Vjun, Vjun...I don't know it, but I LOVE what you've done with the place!

[Mr. Happy]

The ship blasted off, leaving me all to my lonesome. I doubt the pilot minded one bit. Didn't seem to be his cup of tea. Oh well! I couldn't imagine why. Storms of acidic rain, lava flows, and a constant palor of darkness. Well, not everyone could vacation on Ithor, could they? Fortunately, I'd dressed for the occasion. Rubber galoshes, and a corrosive-resistant umbrella! Well, the salesman said it was multi-functional.

*splish-splash, splish-splash*

Drab! Boring! I think the late Darth Vader was an autumn. The castle was that unimaginative kind of monochrome that made you think of slitting your wrists with a spoon. Lightning crackled overhead, and I found the lack of ominous pipe organ in the background to be disappointing. Well, like my old lady used to say, 'Whenever life gives you a lemon, disembowel them and squeeze lemon juice in their wounds!'

I'm just kidding. Mommy never said that. Its hard to talk when you spend your time pickling in a few dozen mason jars! But the moral of the story I just made up is...sometimes you have to improvise

"Singin in the rain! I'm singin in the RAAAAIIIN!!"

After all, nobody frolicks quite like yours truly.

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth was laying down on the smooth rock, looking up at the small trickles of acid rain as they made their way down to his face. The droplets never touched his skin, deflecting away after hitting some invisible barrier.

The rain... I'll miss it once I've left this place behind.

He closed his eyes and spread his wings, flexing them. They had just been mended a few hours prior, and having them free of bandages was liberating. He couldn't imagine what it was like for humans, who spent their time chained to the ground by the forces of gravity.

Splish, splash... Splish, splash...

The winged alien sat up, his ears picking up the sound of footsteps upon slick rock. He looked out across the horizon, vaguely making out a humanoid form. He didn't recognize the stranger at all, and whoever it was had interrupted his meditations. Jeseth got to his feet and sneered, walking towards the visitor at a brisk pace.

[Mr. Happy]

"That's odd...I don't hear any bells!"

I stopped, watching the winged figure approach from the castle.

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth got to within several feet of the stranger, then looked him over. He was dressed in the most unusual atire. "Who are you, and what brings you to Vjun?"

[Mr. Happy]

"Well, I hear the fly fishing's good this time of the year, and of course...the scenery."

I tipped back my fedora with the top of my cane, and gave the scrawny-looking Icarus a once-over.

"Well my name's Happy, and you must be an angel...only I didn't hear any bells on my way up. And well, we all know that everytime a bell rings, an angel gets his wings...and sure enough, here you are."

I cocked an eyebrow.

"Of course, if you're my guardian angel, I'm gonna have to discuss getting my money back from the Man upstairs."

[Maester Wargrave]

"I suppose you have a reason for being here?" the gravely voice came from behind the clown.

"You're a bit bright for a passer by."

[Mr. Happy]

"Oh nonsense, Dad!"

I whirled on a heel, giving my umbrella a twirl.

"I'm sure that once you get under my make-up, I'm just as drab, morose, and brooding as the rest of the Adams family here!"

My shoulders slouched a little.

"Unfortunately, it is my lot in life to play the role of the starving artist. Misunderstood and unappreciated. He must be insane!"

[Maester Wargrave]

Wargrave raised a stony eyebrow, "Aren't you thought? Anyone who comes here at this point in time must be a bit crazy."

[Mr. Happy]

"Crazy is making a living slipping on banana peels, but that's neither here nor there. Consider this my change of employment! I've got a whole new repertoire, and everyone's dying to get a ticket to the show!"

[Maester Wargrave]

"Is that a fact? Well then...what is your repertoire?"

[Mr. Happy]

What was my act? Good question. I had a lot of material, that's for sure...but could I put my finger on it? I always preferred a Jack of all Trades stance on it, but since the job interview was already starting, I suppose I had to look sharp. I tightened up my tie, and removed my fedora.

"Well...I like to think of myself as a slapstick prodigy. What's a little pie in the eye to raise a chuckle from John Q. Public? But, I think the industry is ready for a revolution. My kind of slapstick!"

I could tell that the gist of my spiel was lost on these two. I shrugged, rolling my eyes.

"I'm here to learn under your dark tutelage and rule the galaxy blah blah blah! How cliche' is that?"

[Maester Wargrave]

"You are a Joker then," Wargrave showed a bit of interest

"Where are your metallic cards?"

[Mr. Happy]

"Now we're getting somewhere!"

Maybe a sense of humor wasn't lost on the walking mothball after all!

"Razor playing cards, exploding creme pies, napalm whoopie cushions, poison gas balloon animals...care for a whiff of my posey?"

I waggled my eyebrows at him.

"Think of it this way, Dad...remember those old nickelodeons, and the cartoon coyote and bird? They're a gas, because everybody likes violence! Its a hoot. I'm just...upping the ante! A giant boulder turns a cartoon coyote into an acordion...its a knee-slapper. A grand piano lands on a little old lady, and turns her into a grease stain. That's a frelling scream, dad!"

[Maester Wargrave]

"Right...what is it you want?"

[Mr. Happy]

"Well, to answer that, let me put a little hypothetical to you.

A Jedi, a Sith, and a Dark Jedi walk into a bar, and order a pitcher of suds. After filling their pints to the brim, they are left with a half of what they started with. The Jedi argues that the pitcher is half empty, and they should conserve the beer, and take it easy. The Sith says the pitcher is half full, and that the beer isn't going to drink itself. The Dark Jedi orders a whiskey...its gonna take these two frelling forever"

Despite the joke's questionable humor content, both Jeseth and Wargrave suddenly felt compulsed to laugh. And laugh very hard.

[Maester Wargrave]

Wargrave steadied himself, forcing himself to not laugh.

"I see emotional influence is a part of your abilities.

"Interesting."

[Mr. Happy]

"He likes it! Mikey likes it!"

I felt elated. Getting the point to these two was like passing an elephant's kidney stones. I tossed my umbrella aside, and did a few cartwheels...until...

"Blast!"

(I scrambled for the umbrella again, my suit now smoldering in spots)

"I can see I'll have to keep my tailor on call, around these parts!"

[Maester Wargrave]

"Apparently. I take it the flower is full of acid or some sort?"

[Mr. Happy]

|I...

"Oh I can see nothing gets past you!"

[Maester Wargrave]

"It pays to be an observer Mister...?"

[Mr. Happy]

"Happy. Mister Happy, at your service!"

[Maester Wargrave]

"Undoubtably to go along with that winning smile of yours," Wargrave crossed his arms.

"So why here? Why not with say, Corellia or the other Sith Groups out there?"

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Musical laughter ran through the air.

"Wargrave, don't be silly. The Sith would have no idea what to do with an artist, much less a true jester!"

"Jesssterr..." she hissed through a grin before giggling beneath her red rubber raingear. Unlike the others, Milivikal was laughing because she genuinely found it funny.

"Sir, whats your favorite canvas?"

[Mr. Happy]

I framed my beautiful face in my silk-gloved hands, making the most charming face I could muster.

"I think there are few things more beautiful, than a smile, except maybe a spleen, or something exploding....but I've always believed of having my cake and eating it too! Then again, it is so hard for others to fit my artistic mold. But if at first you don't succeed, try, try again!"

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth listened to the two as they conversed and narrowed his dark eyes at Happy. "I can see that Wargrave can take care of you quite well... I'm going to retire to my study. Enjoy your stay... short as it might be, 'Joker.' Perhaps we'll meet again... or not." Jeseth leapt upwards and spread his wings, soaring towards Bast.

[Mr. Happy]

"Merry Christmas to you too, Clarence!"

I tossed my fedora to the sky in a flourish, as the dour-faced moth man fluttered away in the breeze.

"I'll hang onto Zuzu's petals all the same!"

[Vega Van-Derveld]

On first glance he could have sworn he knew the grinning idiot, but a second look told he was no where near as powerful as the other clown Vega had put up with. Still he couldn’t help but chuckle beneath his breath as the man made a mockery of the questioning he was receiving – it was a change from the usual frown-faced melancholy that Bast was inhabited by. Watching from his perch up on one of the pillars of the gate, the Lupine curved his lips up into a smile as he barked out:

“Bravo!”

[Mr. Happy]

I bowed with a flourish, and involuntarily let a squeaker loose. I quickly righted myself, dabbing at my forehead with my kerchief, and loosened my tie.

"Starship food...gets me every time. Anyway! What say we get out of this charming little april shower? I'm afraid I'm not a fan of the great outdoors."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

"Jester you may be, you simply do not walk within Bast's walls. You must have a trial."

She grinned the daggers that were now in her hands.

"It is our way. Gentlemen!" she said with a hint of irony, "What sort of trial should we have for the Jessterr?"

[Mr. Happy]

"A spelling contest!"

[Evil Hobgoblin]

Hob appeared at the back of the group, having just come from his residence beneath the castle. His sleepy eyes gave the newcomer a once-over, but he did not comment.

[Maester Wargrave]

"Without using the Force," Wargrave said.

"Make us laugh."

[Mr. Happy]

"Well..."

I looked around to the crowd. That was sure a tall order.

"I'm afraid you got me there. I'm a comedian, not a plastic surgeon. You'd need a facelift so swell, that the only doctor capable of it would sooner squeeze a Hutt into a set of B cups."

[Maester Wargrave]

"Of Milli believes you are an artist, then please...use your artistic talents," Wargrave smiled darkly.

"I am sure you can come up with something..."

[Evil Hobgoblin]

Hob yawned widely with a few more sleepy blinks. "Heard better from spacer scum, have I," he pronounced.

[Mr. Happy]

I sighed...tough crowd!

"No laughs? Nary a chuckle? Not even a titter?"

Reaching into my pocket, I fumbled around until I found a rubber glove, which I promptly began to inflate with my mouth. The glove became a five fingered balloon, which also seemed to garner nothing but dour-faced stares from my jovial audience.

"This planet needs an enema!"

I released the glove with a flutter of flapping, deflating rubber.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

A healthy laugh sounded from the gate, as De'Ville watched the group surrounding the newcomer. "Come now, make us laugh? 'A test this is!'" She mimicked Yoghurt's inflections, and shook her head at the gathering.

She walked past Hob, and Wargrave, the two that imagined themselves her equal. Mili was untested by her, but from what she'd heard of the Dark Jedi, the Siren was not to be underestimated. A valuable ally she would be, should the time ever come to allies and enemies. Vega's pride was only bested by his anger, and she lightly brushed his arm as she passed him to face the jester.

"I can think of a better 'test' for this prankster." De'Ville's eyes hardened from their previous mirth, and her hand went out, a push with the Force sending the man falling backwards in the rain. It was not as acidic as it had been, due to the changes in weather patterns that Hob had wrought, and it did not burn through her hooded dark blue cloak she wore.

With a smooth motion she ignited her saber, holding it in an agressive stance, her posture suggesting barely contained energy. "A mere joke and a laugh will not gain you entrance, jester! How practical are your practical jokes?"

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Mili frowned as she watched De'Ville send the clown into the acid rain. Then again, she had frowned at his last couple of jokes. Sometimes Jester's weren't immediately funny until you understood the irony of a situation, which she had not found yet.

"A Prank then. He must prank a Jedi. And, ahhh... document it." De'Ville glanced at her with caged hungry eyes. Predator eyes.

"How would we profit from him pranking us?"

[Mr. Happy]

"Ooh, right in the kieshter! That'll swell up nicely!"

I hopped to my feet, wincing and giving my posterior a healthy rub-down. The pale looking brunette was waving one of those crazy zippo swords at me, and for once, I was a bit at a loss.

"If I've said anything off-color, macho, or chauvenistic, I can assure you, it was all about that other broad."

Didn't exactly work. Oh well, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Now, where was that....I know I had it...last I put it...

I padded my jacket pockets down, in pursuit of my object of desire. Finally, I smiled, and reached into my lapel pocket, pulling out a long, cyllindrical object, and held it triumphantly!

"Ah-ha!"

I twirled the metallic cyllinder in my hands for a moment, before opening one end, and sliding out a wonderfully robust, hand-made cigar, fresh from Ithor. I carefully lopped off the tip, wedged it between my teeth, and cautiously approached De'Ville, angling the business end towards her saber.

"Hey, you mind if I use that for a...ah...that's the trick, right there...thanks."

Puffing up a glowing head on the cigar, I leaned back and smiled.

"Well, you can't kill a guy without giving him a last smoke!"

[Jibrielle Abunai]

The young Apprentice couldn't help but giggle at the strange man's antics. In the small room she had "staked" as her own, Jibrielle had one window to look outside of Bast. It was the wind that carried the voices up to her room to rouse her curiousity like a cat. After peering outside, she saw Hobgoblin, Lilaena, and an odd man that was referred to as, "Jester". The other woman she had not met yet.

Tearing herself away from the view, Jibrielle walked over to the other side of her room and opened the door. After closing it behind her, she fled down the spiraling, stone staircase and down several hallways before exiting Bast.

Breathlessly, she stared at the newcomer with wide, dark eyes. She had never seen such an attire, but that cigar ... Yes, she'd seen plenty of those before, and rather liked the way they smelled.

Lilaena had ignited her lightsaber, however, causing the girl's brow to furrow slightly. What - Ah, yes, the trial. Would he pass it and be accepted ?

She cautiously walked up to where her Master, Hob, was and continued to stare at the man.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

With a quick turn of her wrist, De'Ville sliced the cigar cleanly in two, nearly taking off the man's nose. "You have had your smoke; on to your death now, I suppose?"

She winked, and spun her saber in her hands before swinging around and down at his right shoulder, to cleave him diagonally from shoulder to hip.

[Zasz Grimm]

Zasz was exiting Bast's walls to watch the trial of the comedian. His eyes fell to his master, Hob, Jibrielle, Mili, Lilaena, and even Wargrave. The man was rather funny, but Zasz held his expressionless face, for now. He stood back, on his own to watch the man. A gust of wind caught his crimson hair and it blew in the wind as his blood red pupils watched what was going on...

Zasz had never been in the presence of another trial, other than his own, Shaed's and Jehova's, for they were all together. He watched on, awaiting to see what would happen.

He looked towards Milivikal. How was Cyriam doing? Zasz hadn't heard from the clone in many days. He pushed the thought to the side and then looked back to what was going on.

[Mr. Happy]

"Well....quite an immasculating experience!"

I looked at the pitiful, severed remnant of my cigar. Puffing at it, I was pleased to find that it was still lit. Oh, small miracles! Unfortunately, she had that look in her eye that told me that taking a few inches off my El Presidente was just the beginning of my troubles. Her ruby-colored man-eater was twirling down on Yours Truly, but I'm a spry fella. One has to be, when you're in constant danger of a beating. In this sad day and age, I must say that nobody appreciates a good clown. Anyways...I mustn't tarry! I dipped and dove out of the way, with a quickness otherwise held in check by constant sandbagging. She advanced on me, but...I'm sorry to say, that the surgeon general was right. Smoking does kill you. When she had split my cigar, she had also split a small rocket, wedged inside. About the time as the tattered remnants of my stogie puffed apart in a bloop of ash and smoke, the other end of my cigar...the business end...was just beginning to warm up the small but scrappy warhead, so conveniently now beside her footsies! I flitted the destroyed remnant of my cigar away, disdainfully.

"Well, it won't be the cigar that kills me." I said with a mournful sound...which quickly turned into a hoot of laughter as the warhead went off at her feet.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Just before her uncontested saber strike connected with his shoulder, De'Ville's danger sense flared, and she used the Force to leap up into the air. Changing tack so abruptly was jarring, and the tip of her saber drew a sizzling line into Happy's shoulder as she somersaulted over his head and behind him.

Landing a little awkardly, she steadied herself and then stutterstepped towards him, feinting at his side as he turned to face her. "I would think death is the least of your worries."

[Mr. Happy]

I knew when I'd met my match, and I cowered away from her blade.

"No more! No more! I give up!"

I fumbled for my flask, and took a long hard swig of the ol Captain Morgan. To my horror, my beloved firewater leaked from my fresh wound in a fountain stream.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! AAH! AAH! AAAAAAH!!! You....got me!"

It was enough distraction to screw the lid back on the flask, and click the top of it, priming the grenade as I hurled it in LD's face.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

De'Ville jerked her body to the side, and the grenade flew past her ear, landing some yards away. She grabbed Happy and spun around him, holding him between her and the explosive.

She shoved him towards the grenade as it hit the ground, and threw herself backwards, out of the way.

[Mr. Happy]

I'd been dealt a bad hand! Curses! As I tumbled toward the skittering grenade, A bit frantic, sure...but if I was gonna die, I was gonna die with a laugh! I cowered in fear of the impending explosion, and fished a very small, pathetic umbrella out of my jacket. Hiding behind it...I cringed.

<font color=009900>...sploosh...ssssss...</font>

<font color=FF9900>BLOOP!</font>

I'm SAVED! The grenade landed in a nearby acid pool, which managed to eat away most of the nasty shrapnel-laden casing. The grenade went off with a fraction of its intensity. In fitting humor, a blob of acid drenched the umbrella, eating away the canvas and leaving only smoking spindles in its wake.

"He...hehehehehehe! If only that worked with falling anvils!"

[Lilaena De'Ville]

De'Ville clipped her saber to her belt, and crossed her arms in front of her. "You are either very lucky, or you create your own luck. Ingenuity and invention will get you far in life, but the Force will take your farther than you dreamed possible."

She brushed her hands off, and added, "You pass the test, and are worthy of entrance to Bast." De'Ville didn't bother asking any of the other onlookers, as the feeling permeating the area was unanimous. Mr. Happy was intriguing, and if there was anything the Black Hand loved, it was a good intrigue.