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He had one last chance to save his honor.

"ROLLING IN THE GRAVE!" he shouted at the top of his nonexistent lungs, striking out with one clawed hand.

Nothing in the immediate area so much as tipped over.

Okay at least Tseng hadn't seen that.

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The moth boil was feeling a bit more chipper after his invigorating wrestle with the angry ghost's minipet. Had he become hardened today? Maybe the world wasn't full of dangerous toxins just waiting to drive him to final dissipation. He returned to the booth with the arrow game he'd had some luck in as well, confident that perhaps he was building muscle and not walking into a deathtrap of metal and wood.

There was another boil at the target beside the mothboil's and Phil watched with wide eyes when he got a bull eye on the first attempt. Drawing back his own bow, Phil tried to replicate this without much luck. The boy beside him continued on rather energetically, causing the mothboil to drift back into his regular state of paranoia: He could get hit with an arrow, he could be whacked in the head with the bow and find himself unconscious a week later back in his room... or it could rain broken wood down on him.

For once, he was surprised to have his concern validated. "O-OH JACK! It's EVERYWHERE!!! SHIELD YOUR EYES! YOU'LL GO BLIND!" In a fit of desperation to relieve himself of his own arrows, Phil tumbled backwards, resulting in one arrow going so far off its mark, it lodged itself inside the open gut of the boil in the suspenders.

"@n@; ..." Phil stared at the arrow and then at the boil as if he'd just dissipated someone.

"I'LL TELL YOUR FAMILY IT WAS MY FAULT!"

He was obviously ahead of himself in thinking the worse. Once Phil realized no actual injury had occurred, he let out a huge sigh wobbling with his wings ruffling to keep him steady. "Thought you were shot! Oh Jack ,you could have been shot! I'm sorry about that! M-my names Phil. If you need compensation... maybe I can give you my winnings? There's another game right over there." The moth boil pointed to where the others were yelling attack names out as if their power levels were over nine thousand.

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He heard another boil shrieking as his own embarrassingly ghouly scream faded, and then there was an arrow through Carrol's stomach. Kind of. No one had ever been able to explain to him why his species had a bit of a nonexistent torso area, but in this case, it seemed to be quite the lucky coincidence. He might have otherwise been shot, as this boil seemed so keen on pointing out. In this case, however, it just felt like a little like a mild case of heartburn. Carrol yanked on the feathery end of the arrow, grinning and chuckling as he held it up, his many eyes darting between it and the moth.

"No, no, man. I'm good, I'm good," he said with an over-the-top manly rasp, reaching for the strange boil's upper arms with the intent of comforting him like Real Men did in the movies. "It's just a flesh wound." He cleared his throat. That manly thing was tough on the vocal cords. "Not really flesh... you know." He lowered his arms back to his sides. "Did you say something about prizes?" Prizes were exciting! But something else the boil had said distracted Carrol, pulling his attention over to the other game. Don't worry Phil, holographic band-aids distract him too.

He turned to look at the screaming students, not quite sure what they were up to but positive that he could do better. Carrol rushed over and crouched into a wobbly fighting stance before shouting, "LATTE COLONPOPS!" at the top of his lungs. He shrugged back at Phil, wondering what constituted a good job in this case. "Oh yeah! I'm Carrol!" he semi-shouted.

NEW FRIEND emotion_brofist

to here

Nothing in life was simple. Not for Lan at least. The irony being that she was the one who made it complicated. Things got messy because she let them get that way. Do not blame others, only yourself. You cost yourself your honor, no one else. You cost the clan honor, the shame is yours alone. Still, she put value into Tseng's words. Conquest people understood conquest best after all.

"Thank you Tseng." She drew her bow again, weaker this time, almost defeated. She felt weak. Do something Invictus could be proud of. Invictus was proud of few things, (that he expressed at least). Lan guessed if anything, it was better than trying to impress the late Emperor. If it had been him, she might as well have crawled into a hole to wait for death to take her. And not the clan kind of death either, true death.

A snapshot of a thought she looked again to Tseng. "...Do you think it possible, to cause a blight to a bloodline?" She clarified. "Such a infecting one, yet only having it pass to those who are related?"

When Lan took another turn, Tseng stood by, still watching. It seemed she had quite the burden on her shoulders right now. He handed out a prize to another booth goer, then looked back to his comrade, looking a little confused as she presented him with another question.

"Lan... Are you... ill?" he asked. If she was speaking a little more metaphorically, he missed it, but it sounded as if she might have gotten sick one way or another.

Lizzy spent a great amount of time giggling to herself about yelling out a name for an attack, but it seemed like something that might be great fun... Besides, she could see that Tseng took attack naming seriously.

"SPIDER SENSE TINGLING."

... Well, she tried.

The tikbalang may still not completely trust the horsemen, but so far, Tseng hasn't given him a reason to be hostile. Plus, this booth was pretty fun, even if Tro preferred close quarter combat. His performance wasn't too bad, it even got a smile from the tikbalang.

I won I won! I won a sprite hatchling wrath

"Ah! Of course. This idea is quite sound I believe. It is an ambitious goal, but not impossible. Such a feat may be what you need to regain your honor indeed," Tseng agreed.