[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=fdc68a]Ludwig Zimmer[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/c609ea39-2860-4465-a22f-02af61453f04.jpg[/img][/center][hr][hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Russian Tent City, Regent Park, London, England, Europe, Northern Hemisphere, Planet Earth
[b]Skills:[/b] Kielkropf, Smoyler, Ferret Handling[/center][hr]

	It was days like this, well nights like this, wait was it night? It could be, it wasn't when he arrived but he had been there sometime. Oh at least he thought he had. Pressing his hands to his chest, then his back pocket, then another, then his front, then eventually patting himself down he located the item which he was searching for; his pocket watch. It was in his vest [i]pocket watch[/i] pocket. Of course it was. Looking at the time he tilted his head quizzically to the left and to the right. It read 8:15. But was that morning or night? If it was morning, he could be tired. Or not. He had been jaunting around on his mighty steed and that was a time he enjoyed and became lost in. He would be as bushy as a squirrels tail no matter the time. Yet it could be night, his stomach didn't feel as if it had a thousand Nachzehrer fighting over scraps within. So it was probably night time. 

	Maybe but how could one tell when they were inside? Looking around he was pretty sure he was inside. He was a scholar, he could figure this out. Granted just thinking back to whether or not he had passed an entrance was not as easy as all that when one was so small. Three inches changed one perspective. Looking at his feet, his brows rose in unison and in a [i]fascinating[/i] manner, causing his glasses to slip from the top of his nose down to the little button tip. Squinting his eyes together he reached up and pushed them back up. Now he was ready to examine such an interesting item that lay at hit feet. It was really remarkable, very much so. At least he thought it was until he squatted down and took a closer look. Dirt, it was just dirt. That wasn't anything interesting. But it did mean he [i]could be[/i] outside. Or in the mouth of a Mossgapping Tweedle Knocker! 

	What is a Mossgapasing Tweedle Knocker? He pondered that for a moment for he had never heard of one before. Now that did sound interesting and the look that said it was so was plastered on his features as his mouth fell agape in deep consideration. Oh the possibilities. This was something his mind could wrap around until he was sure it was morning, or until he as sure it was night the next day but the ground trembled around him and he snapped back to reality. Knees bending and hands flying out as he tried to keep his balance. It was an earth quake! Or was it? It could be the Mossgapping Tweedle Knocker on a charge! If so, what was he do to? Be trampled? There was nothing to do about it, he would be trampled, here in this very uninteresting dirt. Then the shaking stopped, or it did't stop but he stopped feeling it. Why? Had the monstrosity perished?

	No, he had risen off the ground. Small delicate wings that looked like ones that would be found on a dragon fly fluttered for every twitch his body made, which in the end meant they were in a constant blurry motion. He grinned, he had saved himself! Of course he had. He had wings, he could fly! Yes, fly away from his dirt, this darkness, and all these green things that surrounded him. Yes, fly up and see what was going on, where he was, and what time of day it was. It was all so simple and so he did! Flew right up. The light that was so dull before was growing now in intensity as he came to the top of a large leaf (4 inches across was huge!) and looked around. He was inside! 

	Yes, now he remembered. He had gone into a tent. There was such a commotion outside that he had to get inside, or at least direct his valiant steed inside so they would not be trampled by Mossgapping Tweedle Knockers! Or was it horses? No, horses were of no interest. He hated riding horses. Why he rode a ferret. Why? Because he could. They had darted into an empty tent. His steed had taken refuge somewhere and he had explored. There was a plant in the room. It was starting to make sense now. Everything was fine, it was night, he was inside, and he was alone. It was all good. 

	No, it wasn't. There were people in there now! His wings froze and he landed hand on the leaf, sliding down it and the stem until he landed face first back into the very uninteresting dirt. Spatting out the large particles he sighed to himself. That was not how he wanted things to go. How had he wanted things to go? He didn't know but he was sure this wasn't it. It tasted as if he had just eaten privy full of worm remains. Okay time to move and get out of there before they got comfortable. They had just entered, not sitting as of yet. Turning he darted out the backside of the potted plant and flew down to the table and then to the ground below. It was anything but graceful. His arms flailing about and his torso rotating this way and that yet he pulled it off as he was able to make it to the edge of the tent, and duck outside. 

	The place was very busy, a lot of people mulling about. Did they know what was going on? Did they know their lives could be in danger if the Mossgapping Tweedle Knocker was to come about? Wait, no, they wouldn't need to worry about such. They resided in marches and swamps didn't they? Did they? He had never heard of a Mossgapping Tweedle Knocker before, or had he? Wait, he had, just five minutes ago he had remembered them! So this was the second time he heard of them, that made them very possible at this point! Very possible indeed! His mouth went agape again as he was lost in thought to just what these things looked like. He would have remained there the rest of the night but he wasn't given the chance as a large pink wet piece of flesh pressed against his cheek. That snapped him out of it. The Mossgapping Tweedle Knocker was apon him!!!

	Wait, no it wasn't. It was just his trust steed, Dieter. Smiling like a Granny Nichner Pog he patted his old friend and climb aboard. Wait, Granny Nichner Pog? What was that? It was something to think on but not now, now he rode! To the top of the Ferret, to the top of the wall, now dash away, dash away, dash away all! And so he did. Grabbing a fistful of fur and moving out. Dieter wove along the edge of the tents and across the paths between. Oh how he loved ridding like this. Dieter was so quick, had he fallen under the spell of a... Straw!

	It was coming down from above, it was raining straw! [color=fdc68a]"Bettnässen Seiche Eimer!"[/color] he exclaimed as he completely forgot that when was Kielkropfing his body may have shrunk, his voice did not! Jumping off Dieter he knew he had to stop this nonsense lest he be buried in hay. Resting his hand on Dieter he blinked and within that blink of n eye the world swirled around him and the wind picked up as he shot out of the ground, like a daisy! With a Ferret in his hand. Grinning brightly as he coddled Dieter he looked at the man dropping straw everywhere. 

	[color=fdc68a]"Oh um, hello, yes, good evening."[/color]

[hider=Translations]
1) Bed-wetting piss bucket
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