[ WP ] Wizards Magic Fair !

The throng of wizened, grey, pointy-hatted, long-bearded staff-wielding men streamed into the convention center, moving at approximately the speed of molasses. Inside the center, a banner was strung up, reading, `` San Ricardo Magic Faire 20~~15~~16.'' 
 
 Roland made himself skinny and squeezed in between a pair of old-smelling and older-sounding greybeards, earning him an accompanying pair of death-stares. His own robes were made of linen, rather than the traditional woolen robes of the regulars. This was his first Magic Faire, and he had expected... Maybe not a younger crowd, but certainly a more virile one. He'd fix that. Regardless, Roland trudged onward. 
 
 The intended location of his booth was marked with a small sign that read `` Ronald''. Damn Andianton. Roland was n't sure why they put the particularly scatterbrained wizard in charge of writing the signage, but it was no matter. The youthful wizard went to work, his tall, pointy hat falling off of his head and onto the floor to reveal his ginger hair, as he bent over to draw a circle on the floor. 
 
 In perfect Corsican, his magical language of choice, Roland yelled *'' Trasporti! `` * 
 
 Summoned from his home, built atop an identical chalk portal, his booth was now in sight. It was a simple thing. Large in size with few designs on them, and none of them significant. Clean, relatively neutral colors that clashed with the ostentatious and star-splattered booths that were beginning to appear around him, spells being cast in Latin across the auditorium. 
 
 Roland picked up his hat and capped his crown with it once more. He began getting things ready, the gecko's bones piled nicely in one corner, and the alchemical reactors in the other. After a few moments of preparation and nerve-calming tasks of tedium, he was ready. 
 
 It had been fifteen minutes after the Faire was supposed to start. Not that they were late, of course, that'd be ridiculous. They were, in fact, wizards after all. But when it finally came time for the Faire to begin, the judges arrived. A half-dozen grizzled old codgers with simple robes and hats of various shades of brown and grey. They took confident strides forwards and off of the podium, wordlessly going from booth to booth, observing spectacles, spells and new theories and concepts one at a time. 
 
 Blasts of fire streamed out of some booths, while others grew insurmountably cold. In others, lead was turned into gold and gold was turned into women. One of the judges, after visiting a booth, was, for about a minute or so, turned into a sheep. Loud noises and grandiose Latin catchphrases and spells rang throughout the convention center. 
 
 Until, the congregation of judges made their way over to Roland's booth, already clearly unimpressed. 
 
 Roland coughed into a fist awkwardly as the judges gave no indication for him to talk, or to begin his demonstration. Just a glance side to side before the young wizard got to work. Chalk dust and small, minor, incantations filled the booth as Roland the ginger wizard got to work. Small circles, symbols and runes of various cultural origins lined the ground below him and the walls of his booth, before, with his chalk-covered robes, Roland turned back to the judges. 
 
 `` Ladies and gentlemen.'' He begins. `` For all of time, man has searched for a way to preserve themselves. To find immortality, eternal life, and a way of retaining their youth. Chinese Emperors sought after it. The Spanish Kings did. There was a major hunt for the Fountain of Youth, you may remember it, Miguel.'' Roland attempted a jab at the Spanish wizard standing in the back, who did not elect to react. More awkward coughs. 
 
 `` But through the arcane sciences...'' Roland continues after the silence. `` I have managed to find a way to restore one's youth! To turn back the biological clock to the one's prime! What mankind has spent its entire existence hunting for!'' He stretches out a hand, and beckons the judges to step inside. They stand still. 
 
 Finally, Cornelius, the eldest one, front and center, stroked his magnificent white beard, that cascaded from his face onto the floor below for a moment before sighing. ``... Can you grow a beard afterwards?'' 
 
 Roland certainly did not anticipate that question. `` I... Erm... What?'' He asks, flabbergasted. 
 
 `` Your face.'' Cornelius continued. `` It is lacking. I imagine you tested it on yourself, hence your youthful appearance and demeanor. Yet... You have not a hair on your chin. Are you capable of regrowing it?'' 
 
 Roland blinked, and glanced side to side. `` I... Have n't tested for that specifically, Archmagus...'' He mutters. `` Though I'm sure if you just-'' 
 
 `` We're done here.'' Cornelius bowed deeply, as did all the other judges, as they took a step to the side and trudged along, judging the spells as they went on by.
