Lords and Ladies, Fae and Fairies, I hath returned from a most wondrous adventure! I was blessed enough to receive an invitation to a mystical Renaissance Faire of massive proportions located in the mountains close to a fabled place titled New York City. I and my adventuring party traveled many miles in our mystical wagon to reach it. We dressed in only the worthiest of garb and armed ourselves with bags to carry any loot we acquired. The mountain wind chilled us to the bone but we strode through the entrance gate with grinning faces and eager eyes.

The scent of fire-roasted meat, horse manure, and handmade spearmint soap wafted through the air of the faire. My good lords and ladies, hundreds of wooden shops and stalls of all shapes and sizes laid before us to explore, and explore we did! We ogled mini figures of gnomes or bees made from pewter, tried on thousands of brightly colored feathered hats, and bemoaned our lack of coin that barred us from purchasing a glinting sword or its wooden cousin. Thankfully we had no need for weaponry as there were no adult dragons in sight, however, a large shop with a sign boasting “St. George’s Dragon Orphanage” held infant, wingless dragons in vivariums ready to be whisked away to good homes.

            We saw all manner of absurd sights as our brave party traveled through the faire: a lady more sunflower pixie than human rode a unicycle and performed death-defying tricks with a whip, and we later passed a man bedecked in scratched green armor who refused to take off his helmet and had some sort of box on his back as well as a small, ‘L’ shaped item on his belt. We stopped to feast on turkey-legs the size of our heads, then journeyed on. 

            After much exchanging of coin and laughter, our group paused to watch some of the entertainment. One show, titled “The Four Swordsmen”, had swordsmen (one was a woman actually) clashing blades with each other in one-on-one duels to test their mettle and instruct the audience in helpful self-defense, in case any armed rapscallion might try to accost them. The weapon masters mixed clanging metal with quick wit that brought the audience and our party to our feet in applause. 

Finally, dear Dandies and Damsels, we saved the best for last. The Joust. Truly none shall hear a greater tale of heroism, competition, and skill. Sir Gareth, clothed in blue and silver, rode atop a bespeckled steed as he jousted for the order of the moon.

His opponent, Sir Larson (and my favorite) rode astride a majestic, coal black steed, and he wore maroon and gold to display his allegiance to the order of the Sun. They jousted each other round upon round with great ferocity and skill that shook the very ground. The duel threatened to overwhelm the audience with their majesty, so once a tie was reached, a rematch was challenged.

I eventually left and returned to my abode with a lighter pocket and a lighter heart. I had bargained for a ring bedecked with a golden feather, soap with the scent and shape of a blossoming rose, a pair of knitted fingerless gloves dark as night, and a leather- bound notebook handcrafted with the hue of the ocean. Gentlefolk, I do heartily thank the esteemed gaming club, Level Up, for hosting this marvelously magical event! 

“The incalculable winds of fantasy and music and poetry, the mere face of a girl, the song of a bird, or the sight of a horizon, are always blowing evil’s whole structure away.” ~C. S. Lewis