Hear ye, hear ye, all come to the Renn Faire! All who hear this heed the call to...
Well, yes, as it turns out, there are Renn Faires here, celebrations of slightly whacked medieval life. With Klingons, so they're terribly traditional. (Sadly, I got no images of Klingons. I am sad.)
I did get many images of the trebuchet, though. People-sized, and fully capable of flinging said people far across the island into the water. Glub.
First it was cow-tossing:
Professor Alphonso Avalanche summoning the cow, and said cow being flung alone. The puir wee beastie. I do think it was stunned, but just look at those eyes on the second cow in line. She's not looking forward to this...
Miss CronoCloud Creeggan, riding her cow. She flew fairly well. I think the wings gave her an assist, however.
Duchess Eva Bellambi trying to hurl herself and a much larger bovine. This did not, in fact, work.
Then came the villager with the pitchfork afire. There's always one, and then there's a mob, and then I'm tied to wood and set ablaze....wait, sorry, we're back at the trebuchet:
This is Miss Cyn Vandeverre daring the fates. She made the lovely head veil she's wearing, by the way. Her shop is more than worth a look. And don't forget to teleport all the way to the top.
My second attempt did not go so well...I admit, I was too amazed to capture the first attempt.
Professor Avalanche, who is also friend and fellow traveler with Professor Oolon Sputnik, takes the shape of the large construct from Burning Life and has himself flung.
I simply must learn inorganic forms. I am going to practice with rocks.
Myself in mid-air, on my third attempt. I was sure I would reach the target now...
...alas, I fell far short.
Mr. Hotspur O'toole flung himself after me, unicycle and all, and while we were speaking for some small time under the water--myself having grown temporary gills, he relying on the restorative powers of ale--I saw a third being flung our direction, in a quaint little terracotta pot and waving daffodil greens. I mentioned this to Mr. O'toole. He did not believe me.
Therefore, I offer visual proof. There, Mr. O'toole, there is the daffodil in question, standing in line to be flung again. HAH.
And, lastly, Mr. Edward Pearse found another use for his Disco Night attire:
Ah, Finnian, even far away and at a medieval fair, we still remember thee. And your shiny...disco...balls.
*Ahem*! I have things to do! I must away!
(But do remember the Faire goes on tomorrow, as well, and is an event for the Relay for Life. There is ale and wenches--though some of them large and bearded, hee--and the trebuchet, and dancing. Do attend if you can.)