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To Rescue a Retinue

Red and blue banners snapped in the wind as King Skarl and his retinue stepped outside the Hall of Heroes. A dozen metres ahead, Salayne Ritad stood a little straighter at his post and took a deep, calming breath of spiced market air. Though the midday sun baked the stone underfoot, Altador's crisp, coastal breeze offered some relief from the heat.
"Welcome to the Bazaar District, King Skarl," Salayne recited under his breath. This was his first official tour, and he wanted to start off on his best foot. "I'm here to escort you to our finest shops, beginning with the Illustrious Armoury..."
Team Altador had volunteered to be official guides while the city played host to Neopia's greatest rulers. Their captain, Foltaggio, had taken a sudden leave of absence on the Isle of Yooyu, leaving the team feeling unmoored. Salayne was not as upset about their captain's withdrawal as the rest of them. After the dismal results of Cup XIX, he knew Foltaggio needed the break, just as his teammates needed a renewed sense of purpose.
Salayne tore his mind from the Isle of Yooyu as the red-robed king approached. This was his purpose, now.
"Welco-" A pair of Meridell guards hefted a large trunk of coins into Salayne's arms, nearly throwing him off balance. "Er, welcome, King Skarl! I'm here to-"
"Where is this glorious Shopping Centre?!" the king shouted. "Pick up the pace, you sluggards!"
Salayne fell into step with the king's retinue as they shuffled ahead. Despite their two month stay, he didn't recognize many of Skarl's aides; rumour had it, they were on constant rotation.
"Has the grey made him grumpier?" he quietly asked a Shoyru holding a sack of hearty foods-snacks, he supposed, for the road.
The king whirled around to erupt once more, but stopped short at the sight of Salayne walking behind him. "You, Elephante! Where do I know you from?"
The goalkeeper tried to be heartened by this. It was the whole reason the team had volunteered-so they could be familiar faces for troubled visitors in a foreign land. But in this moment, beneath King Skarl's beady red eyes, he wished he'd gone to the Isle, too.
"Oh ho, yes, I remember. You're that keeper for Team Altador. Played like dung."
"Er, thanks." Salayne shifted the weight of the trunk in his arms.
"Strong, though. Could use that. The grey has turned my guards weak and pathetic! Prove your worth here and I'll make you my squire."
As Skarl marched forth, Salayne took note of how dismal the retinue felt: eyes downcast, shoulders slumped. He gently nudged the Shoyru, and quietly shared a little joke to try to build some camaraderie.
"Squire for Skarl? I'd rather face ten Darigan Yooyus!"
A gasp rippled across the retinue, who all shrunk away from the king. Apparently Salayne's voice carried, even in a whisper. The Shoyru gave him a sideways glance, until-
"BAHAHAHA. Oh my," King Skarl said, wiping tears that'd sprung to his eyes. "My, my. I can't remember my last laugh. You're a funny one. Thank you. SCARDELL! Take that chest."
A Meerca squire juggling an armful of scrolls quivered and approached, but Salayne hefted the chest to his shoulder.
"That is quite alright, your majesty," he said, stepping forward to take the lead. "I can handle this one. Allow me to escort you to the Illustrious Armoury."
As they walked the streets of his beloved city, Salayne took courage from being on home turf. The sun was shining, and Sasha the Dancer was performing in the square. Salayne carried the conversation, giving the guards and squires a breather from their king. "Have you tried Altador Buns yet? They're truly a delicacy. Just a bite perks me right up."
As the entourage from Meridell slowly made way, Sasha the Dancer, a Protector of Altador, watched how Salayne's strong instincts smoothed over King Skarl's thorny personality. When her performance concluded, she dashed to the Hall of Heroes with a proposal to King Altador: perhaps the goalkeeper ought to become an official Council Aide.

The Grey Year Brochure
Desk Yooyuball (old staff tournament prize)

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A Trick Up Their Sling

Reb Weemelott, the spotted Nimmo from Brightvale, captures the first Yooyu. He’s quick, he’s crafty, he’s going for goal—! But no, it’s a trick! And “Weems” does not appear to be in on it… the Yooyu has wrapped around his arm! Fenny, Roo Island’s left defender, is doubled over—not injured, though. She and Brightvale’s goalkeeper appear to be… laughing?
Gordo Gunnels calls for a time-out. Once a Roo Island player himself, he got traded to Brightvale in Altador Cup VI. In return, Roo got “Squeaky Clean” Tressif—Brightvale’s old captain!
The Roo Island commentator stopped as whistles blew, and Gordo crossed the pitch to Weems.
“What’s going on? The gummy Yooyus have never been this sticky before!”
From the shade of the far goalposts, a yellow Ogrin dressed in Brightvale green watched the chaos unfold: when the first gummy Yooyu was forcibly removed from Weems’s elbow pad, its replacement reattached in exactly the same way. Weems wriggled his arm around in panic, and Orie tried to suppress another laugh. Not easy with Fenny giggling uncontrollably from the Roo side of the pitch.
Of course Tressif clocked the two guilty parties, that old spoilsport; he waved Orie over to the sidelines to talk. She sighed, taking in the hijinks for a moment longer, then followed him to the water table.
“What do you think you’re doing, Orie?” her former captain asked. He was dressed in that nonsensical Roo Island uniform now, and it was hard to take him seriously. If you asked Orie, he’d looked better in green and gold.
“Playing a scrimmage with a buncha old friends,” she said, leaning against the table. “Fancy commentator you’ve got there, by the way.”
“He needs practice, too. And that’s beside the point.”
“Do tell, Squeaky.” She playfully flicked at a bell on his uniform.
Tressif appeared to chew on words for a moment, seemingly fighting whether to address the old nickname or accuse her outright. Orie raised an eyebrow in anticipation.
“I was only called ‘Squeaky Clean’ because I played for ‘Dirty Brightvale,’” he said, adjusting his Yooyu sling. “I’m hardly ‘Squeaky’ at Roo.”
“Ooh, what are you now, a devilish rogue? I’d love to learn your new tricks.”
Turning a red Lupe redder; an old pastime of hers. Orie almost forgot about the jester collar.
Tressif shook his head and started listing out her pranks. “Switching out all the team photos with Hagan fanart, sticking weights in the gummy Yooyus, sneaking springs into Fenny’s boots?! And let’s not talk about the hundreds of motes we keep finding places.”
She glanced over to Weems, who’d ditched the elbow pad. Gordo was examining it now—wouldn't be long before they found the strong magnets in his old “ice pick.” She and Fenny had placed them behind the metal piece he used to elbow opponents in the gut, hoping the magnets would pull in the old weights they’d stuck in the gummies.
“Don’t you miss it?” she said, turning back to Tressif. “Just a little?”
“Orie. There’s a reason I left. I’m happy here. I don’t have to look around every corner for evidence that you’ve been cheating.” He rubbed his sling arm again.
“It’s just been harmless fun.”
“Not when it starts seeping into the pitch. I know Brightvale…”
“The springs were Fenny’s idea, not mine!”
Tressif’s voice lowered. “Gordo brought you all here in the hopes that the good-natured sportsmanship at Roo could rub off on your team—not the other way around.”
“I dunno. I think I’ve picked up a thing or two from Fenny.” Orie nodded to centre field, where Weems was donning a new Roo Island elbow pad. “There goes the old ‘ice pick,’ for one thing. Then the weights in the gummy Yooyus? Made us all stronger. And you have to admit, the boots turned Fenny into a formidable presence on the pitch for a day. That spring in her step gave her confidence that she’d lacked. I’ve learned… I don’t know… maybe there’s more to fun than winning.”
“Hmph.” Tressif searched Orie’s face for a tell. “And the… Hagan drawings?”
"Ahh, that was just some good laughs. Though…” Orie paused, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “You may want to check inside your Yooyu sling.”
Tressif tilted his head as she darted off. He unbuckled his sling and found a long, bumpy strip of athletic tape stuck to the inside edge. When he ripped off the tape, a half dozen rock motes tumbled to the ground. He laughed, just as the whistles blew.

Yooyu Trapped in a Display Box (old AC prize)
The Grey Year Megaphone (instrument....not a weapon)

Rocky Foundations

“It’s official,” Camila said. “We’re cursed.”
     The young Eyrie tossed the bottle in her hand to the ground. It landed almost silently in the sand, so not a single member of the team paid it any mind, nor did they bat an eye when Camila dramatically twirled around and pretended to faint. To add extra dramatic flair, she even draped the copy of the Neopian Times she’d found in the bottle—presumably with the news that made her declare they were cursed—over her eyes. Tyrra was, as always, nose-deep in another scrimmage plan to try and ‘prove Dacardia has what it takes’ on the Neopian stage; Magnus was juggling Crabby-bots as a reflex exercise, eyeing them like the hungry Grarrl he was; and Ruffaele…
     “I mean, come on! They’re saying he saved all of Meri Acres! How in the name of Grand Councillor Yuli am I supposed to compete with that?!”
     …Was, true to his nickname, “rowdy” as ever over coming second in his imaginary popularity contest against fellow Gelert and Altador Cup heartthrob, Tandrak Shaye.
     “Are you still sore about all that?” Tyrra asked without looking up.
     “Get over it, bud. We’re in the big leagues now; you can’t be the only hunk on the scene anymore.” Magnus caught the last of the Crabby-bots he’d been juggling and set them down on the ground, letting them scuttle away as he went to clap his teammate encouragingly on the shoulder. “Besides, you—”
     “I’m sorry,” interrupted Camila, sitting up abruptly, “but are we not going to talk about the fact that the Altador Cup was cancelled this year?”
     That finally got everyone’s attention. Magnus’s eyes went wide, Rowdy’s ears shot straight into the air, and Tyrra’s big, strong Kougra claws nearly tore through the paper she’d been writing on.
     “What?!” she cried. “No, that can’t—but we just made it to the Cup!”
     “We haven’t even shown them what we’re made of yet,” Magnus said.
     “I haven’t had a chance to show up Tandrak Shaye, either!” Rowdy growled.
     Camila rolled her eyes. “Oh, will you shut up about—”
     “This is terrible.” Tyrra buried her face in her paws. Her shoulders hitched as she took a deep breath. “We’ve worked so hard to get where we are, and at every turn something’s stopped us, and then we finally make it and we…”
     “We almost placed last!” Camila lamented. She plopped down in the sand, wings drooping behind her, and lifted her arms into the air imploringly. “Why is the universe giving us such a hard time?”
     Suddenly, Jarek stood up from his log bench. He had been silent for most of his teammates’ exchange, but he had finally had enough.
     “RRAAAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!” he cried out, making each and every one of his teammates jump. They all looked at him, and he pounded his fists together.
     “Everyone’s having a hard time!” the Chia shouted. “Us! Them! Altador! Meridell! Even—”
     “Well, Meridell’s doing fine, since Tandrak Shaye—”
     “ENOUGH!” Jarek stomped his feet. Rowdy fell silent right away. “Take a lesson from Tandrak! He’s helping others. Just like others helped us with the storm!”
     With another mighty growl, Jarek kicked at the sand. For a moment, the only sound was the waves beating against the shore – the ocean, on the other side of which there were so many other lands, filled with so many other caring Neopians.
     Tyrra was the first to speak. “You’re right, Jarek. They all came to our aid when we needed it, and with this Grey Curse…”
     “See? There is a curse,” Camila chipped in, a broad grin on her face. Tyrra smiled back, catching the joke her teammate had lobbied, and continued.
     “We should try to help the other teams break it, or at least cheer them up if we can. Placing so low doesn’t matter – we don’t play Yooyuball to win, we play it because we want to be part of something bigger.”
     “Hear, hear,” Magnus said.
     “And,” Rowdy added, his cockiness returning, “maybe this’ll finally get my name up next to Tandrak’s.”
     “Ooh, yeah, maybe he’ll finally notice you,” Camila teased.
     “Hey!”
     Before the two of them could get into one of their playful arguments, though, Tyrra interrupted. “What do you think we should do, Jarek?”
     Four heads turned to Jarek. He hummed, low and rumbling, in thought. But just then, a Crabby-bot scuttled into view. It moved up to Magnus and tugged on his tail to get his attention; when he looked down, it lifted both claws, as if asking to be picked up.
     Jarek smiled. “We have so many little helpers. If Lania Cragg will lend us some…”
     Tyrra clapped her paws together. She’d known Jarek the longest out of all of them, so she knew exactly where he was going with this. There wasn’t much they could do individually, but with a whole team…
     “We could build something to help all the other teams get back on their paws!” She grinned, wide and toothy, and threw an arm around Jarek’s shoulders. “Now that, my friend, sounds like a game plan.”

The Grey Year Visor
Covered in Sticky Notes (old staff prize)