Pie Baking Contest (WIDE OPEN)

[Applejack Smith]

Applejack entered the field area and just stood there for several moments, staring at the faire area. She was excited for the fair, but she was also surprised by how huge it seemed to be. Even from this distance, she could see game booths and food carts and.... Was that a ferris wheel? She shook her head in amazement. All this had seemed to just pop up overnight. Not that she was complaining. Fall was probably her favorite time of year, and she was happy to celebrate it. It seemed a lot of other people were also happy to celebrate too. Even though it was still pretty early, the festival area was crowded with people. "I knew I shoulda left earlier," she mutter under her breath as she started walking towards the entrance.

Once she entered the fairgrounds, Applejack was part of the crowd. People pushed and surged all around her, but she couldn't really push back. She had a small bag slung over one shoulder and was using both of her hands to hold the pie tray steady. The pie was the whole reason she hadn't left as early as she would have liked. Mainly, her obsession over the pie. Normally, Applejack just did her best and hoped it was good enough, but this was Granny Smith's famous apple pie. If she didn't win at leàst second place, she would feel like she'd let the whole Apple family down. So this pie had to be perfect. It was actually the third pie she'd made that day, and probably like thr twentieth she'd made since learning about the pie baking contest. One thing was certain, her house would not need any more apple pie for a while.

After about fifteen minutes, Applejack finally made it to te contest area. It was a lot less crowded than most of the festival area had been. Mostly, the crowd consisted of contestants and judges, though a few had come to oogle the big pumpkins. She gaped at the pumpkins herself as she passed by them? "How in Celestia's name had they gotten that big?" She shook her head in amazement. "I wonder if I could do that to apples. Ooh-wee, just imagine how many pies an apple that size could make." She smiled at the thought, picturing apple pies as far as the eye could see. She also saw an apple bobbing contest being set up nearby, the apples only just going into the barrel now. For a moment, she considered signing up for the contest. She was pretty good at bobbing for apples. Then she remembered with a shudder the last time she'd gone bobbing for apples at one of Pinkie's parties. The pink mare had put other items in with the apples, and the worry had never quite left her on what she might have pulled out. She shuddered again and walked quickly past.

Finally, Applejack made it to the space reserved for the pie baking contest. She could tell because at one end of a long table was a sign that read Pie Baking Contest: Sign Up Here. There was a bored looking man sitting at the table behind the sign. Applejack took a deep breath and walked towards him. The man barely glanced at her before picking up a pen. "Name?" He asked her in a bored monotone. "Applejack Smith," she answered quickly, watching as he wrote down her name. "Contestant or Judge?" Applejack shifted her grip on the pie plate as if she thought the answer was obvious. "Contestant." "Type of pie?" Here, she frowned slightly. Why did they need to know that? She was about to ask, but the man gave her an impatient look. "Apple," she said with a shrug. Ah well, it probably didn't matter. "You're number three," he said, ripping a big number three from a pad and handing it to her. "Find a place on the table for your pie and put the number on front. The contest starts in thirty minutes. You must be here when it starts or you'll be disqualified." Applejack nodded and took her number before walking away. She set her pie in the middle of the table and put the number in front of it. Then she peeked under the pie covering to make sure the pie was still all right. She didn't know what she'd do if it'd been harmed on the way to the contest. Luckily, it was still looking fine. It was even still warm from the special insulated pie tray she'd bought for it. She sighed in relief and put the cover back. "Thirty minutes," she murmured. "That's a good bit of time to just stand here waitin'." She sighed and looked out at the faire. "Maybe I'll just go for a few minutes and have a look around." She glanced at her pie for a moment, worry creasing her forehead. "Oh, I'm sure it'll be fine." Then she left, heading to look at the big pumpkins again. Maybe she could ask one of the growers how they'd gotten the pumpkin so big.



((OOC: Sign up as a Contestant or Judge!)) 

[Darwin Daugherty]

Darwin had been in the kitchen all day, making a pie he found in a book. A few of the ingrediants he didn't have so he decided to adjust. The crust was made the same way as other pies, but he left the top uncrusted. The filling was a combineation of chopped dried cherries, chopped dried mango, dried cranberries, dried currants (little red berries), chopped candied citron, some dark rum, ground cinamon, molasses, and chopped peacans. The resulting conglomeration looked like a dark brown mass with spots of red, green, and dark brown. He was glad of the results, but didn't notice that the ingrediants he used was actually for fruitcake. He made a few of them getting the consistency down to a pie filling intstead of a cake batter.

His hieght and build led him to transverse the crowd a little easier than others, the pie held high above his head, out of the reach of anyone else as he spun and weaved through the crowd. He was coming from the other side of the fairgrounds, through the fairway. It was loaded with all types of games like the water gun race, pop a balloon, guess your weight, haunted house, and a fun house. He will need to check that out sometime soon. As he made his way to the judges table. He watched as Applejeck made her entry. So the girl born of apples was in the contest too. This should be interesting.

As Darwin sauntered up to the table, the man barely glanced at him before picking up a pen. "Name?" He asked her in a bored monotone. "Darwin Ivor Sawyer Carlton Oliver Reginald Daugherty," he answered quickly, watching as he wrote down his name, obviously missing the middle names. "Contestant or Judge?" "Winning Contestant." "Type of pie?" "Fruitcake Pie" he said with a smirk. "You're number four," he said, ripping a big number three from a pad and handing it to him. "Find a place on the table for your pie and put the number on front. The contest starts in thirty minutes. You must be here when it starts or you'll be disqualified."

As darwin walked over to the table he sat his down in the open space next to Appljakcs and he offered her a polite nod and a hello. Their talk at the barn was quite comforting to him and he didn't mind her company, or was it compony. Pony talk often made his head hurt.

[Eric Cartman]

Apparently today was Eric's binge on pie day. He was literally seeing nothing but pie. Everywhere. Pie on this corner. Pie on that corner. Pie with the green-haired guy. Pie under a tree. So much for his diet, or his attempts to not be a total fatass. Eric would deal with it later, when he stared at himself in the mirror, scrunched up his nose, and tried to decipher the best way to layer his clothes to conceal his excess weight. Right now, the three layers of sweaters, topped off with a blue and black flannel, just made him look like he was suffering from hypothermia.

Adjusting his glasses, which he hated, Eric moved past a trash can and noted yet another pie-themed storefront. This one, however, involved a pie-making contest, for all the citizens of Tenebrae with any cooking skills. Eric smirked - the last time he'd participated in a food-making contest, he'd killed his dad. I mean, there was obviously context there... context that Eric's damaged brain wasn't coming up with... but it was a fun time, from what Eric recalled. His stupid ginger dad, gone forever, a spectre out of his life for good. There was no way this contest could live up to that particular chili cook-off, but Eric stared at the sign-in table for some time. They needed judges, and Eric knew he was pretty good at judging thing. He was a good speaker, and could make an argument for or against anything. The piece of paper hanging up in his bedroom from U of Col basically certified him in talking, after all! Plus, pointless judgmental blaming of people was one of Eric's favorite pastimes. He used to pointlessly needle the man he loved...

Eric shoved the thought down quickly before his giddy mood dissipated. This contest was designed for him to show off his talents, he decided, and he strode up to the sign-in table confidently, where a bored staff member glanced up at him and immediately rolled his eyes. Eric almost did the same, his face souring. He knew this jerk. He was one of the ones who deleted all of his crap off his iPod! Eric forced his face into an eerie smirk.

"Name?" "You know my name," Eric mumbled. Sure enough, the gentleman sighed and wrote 'Eric Cartman' in an untidy scrawl on the paper.

"Contestant or Judge?" "...judge," Eric said sweetly. "It sounds like a good bonding activity."

The man before him didn't believe for a second that Eric was interested in bonding, but he handed over a little sticker reading 'judge' anyways. "All of the judging sheets and pens are at the red table in the back. You don't start eating until all entrants are here. The contest starts in thirty minutes. If you aren't here then, you'll never judge anything in Tenebrae again."

Eric wrinkled his nose. "Little harsh, bra?"

"We have rules for a reason." His monotone was more disturbing than if he'd said it with any emotion. Eric nodded before moving to the back table, clad in red. Well, hopefully he wasn't the only judge. He needed someone to bounce ideas off (read: argue incessantly with) concerning the pies.

[Stephen Schmeling]

Stephen wasn't enjoying himself so much at this "faire".  First of all, the unnecessary "e" in the spelling bothered him because he would continually pronounce it wrong, which brought up his hatred of the English language and it's inconsistent structure.  Second, he kept managing to somehow get hay on his strapping red overcoat.  And he swore the same guy kept stomping on his foot whenever he walked through a crowd.  The former Decepticon was there out of malicious curiosity.  With such a large pool of attendees, surely there was the possibility of enslaving them?  One bony, disturbed little man probably was against the odds if he wanted to ruin the entire thing for everyone - but if Stephen tries once, he can try, try, try, try, try, try, try...

"I'm hungry."

The thought seemed to come out of nowhere.  Some of the other attendees glanced at him like he was nuts before an opening appeared for him.  His fair eyes found the stands not more than a few meters away from him.  He didn't have any money on him to actually purchase something like a normal human being ...robot ...jet.  Not that he had much money anyway, without a job yet.  But if there was one thing the little lair knew, it was doing what you needed to live to scheme yet another day.  Pretending to genuinely want to contribute sounded like an easy way to grab a free meal - and if there was a fee, it was nothing the old Decepticon charm couldn't handle.

Oh Starscream, you are a genius, He praised himself as he fixed his tie tighter around his skinny neck.

A sly smile was barely noticed by the male fleshling at the booth.

"Name."

"Lord Starscream!  Leader of th-"

"Contestant or Judge?"

The yowling speech was cut off.

"Judge, insolent worm!" Stephen snarled, swiping a sticker from the man's hand as he began to lift it.

Not waiting for a briefing, he whipped around and strided toward the table in the back with all the manlyness of a spoiled 16-year-old girl: the heeled shoes he was wearing didn't help.  Stephen found himself a chair and flopped down into it.

"Interrupt me.  Peh.  He's obviously not aware of who he's speaking to," He hissed.

Stephen's crabby scowl wasn't there for too long before he assured himself of his intelligence and smiled calmly.

[Matthew Williams]

Much as he would rather be back at home, perhaps actually joining in with a few things might get people to notice him, and that might at least make his time here a little more bearable. The fall faire was the perfect chance to do that, it was one of his favourite times of year after all, so he was very much looking forward to it, and what better way to get noticed than joining in one of the competitions?

He'd much rather be making pancakes, it was true, but that didn't mean he couldn't cook anything else at all, and actually his maple sugar pie was really rather good - France had taught him how to make it, and he was one of the best cooks in the world. England had taught him to bake a few things as well, but he knew better than to enter a competition with anything Arthur had come up with.

He had edged his way through the crowd, pie carefully tucked in his arms - he was rather good at protecting delicate objects, he was so used to people not seeing him and knew how to avoid getting bumped into - and headed over to the booth, where it had taken a good few minutes for him to be noticed. Perhaps it was because the person manning the booth barely looked up, perhaps it was because Matthew was hovering shyly rather than speaking up, or maybe it was just his natural tendency to go ignored. Whatever the reason, one of the judges was noticed before he was - but that might have been because he was wearing a very bright coat and was obviously very confident.

Deciding enough was enough, Matthew edged closer to the booth.

"Um... excuse me?" he spoke up quietly. Nothing.

"Excuse me?" he tried a little louder, this time the man actually looked up.

"Name?" he asked boredly.

"Canada," he said without thinking about it, until the man continued to stare at him expectantly and he blushed, correcting himself.

"Matthew Williams."

"Contestant or judge?" the man continued like he hadn't even had to wait, writing down Matthew's name as he spoke.

"Contestant." He held up the pie almost like he was offering proof, giving the man a cheerful smile in the hope he would brighten up a little.

"Type of pie?" He didn't.

"Um, maple sugar."

"You're number five. Find a place on the table for your pie and put the number on front. The contest starts in thi-" he paused his obviously rehearsed speech and glanced at his watch "twenty five minutes. You must be here when it starts or you'll be disqualified."

"Okay, thank you," he took the offered number and attempted another smile, it fell just as flat as the previous one so he gave up, heading over to the table to see if the other contestants were any more friendly. He placed his pie on the table and arranged the number in front of it, offering shy smiles to those contestants and judges still waiting for the competition to start.

[Kori Ander]

You could probably consider what Kori had baked a pie. It fit all the technical definitions: being a baked good in a savory crust, with some kind of closed top. However, the insides were... special was probably the word for it. Kori had apparently taken whatever she thought tasted good and combined it together. This was not some specific recipe or some reflection of a cultural heritage or the inherited pie from a long line of delicious pie-makers; it was... unique, unique was the nice word for it. There was definitely bacon inside though, bacon and chocolate and what was probably peppermint of some kind. There were a few other ingredients mixed in there, but Kori couldn't actually recall everything she'd thrown into the mix. At least the pie smelled good: a strange mixture of bacon and chocolate, but definitely good.

"Greetings person doing the---"

You could see the "not another one, gosh darn it" on the face of the man manning the sign up (at least he didn't look bored anymore) as he interrupted: "Name"

"I am Kori Anders, though I was called the---"

"Contestant or judge?"

"I am a contestant! That is why I am carrying this pie; do the judges need to bring their own---"

"Type of pie?"

Kori paused here, standing and blinking. She tilted looked to the man running things, to her pie, and back, tilting her head. "A delicious pie?"

The man was clearly just eager to get what felt like the hundredth strange person. He ripped a big number "6" and handed it to Kori, who took it rather awkwardly, still balancing the massive pie. "You're number six, head over there and put this in front of your pie. The  contest starts in about fifteen, twenty minutes or so. You have to be here when it starts or you're disqualified."

Kori nodded eagerly, opened her mouth with glee to do the thanking and possibly the hugging, but the man was already waving her on and looking to see if he had anyone else to deal with. Kori walked (practically skipped) away, smiling at the various people as she passed. When she saw Darwin, Kori wiggled a few fingers, thrilled to see someone she knew was enjoying the festivities as well.

[Applejack Smith]

Applejack had returned contestant four's smile and nod without really paying attention to who he was. Her mind was already on giant apples and hundreds of apple pies. How much money would she be able to make with all those pies? Maybe she could even sell them to the grocery store as a fresh baked good? She was halfway to the giant pumpkin's when she suddenly stopped. Wait a second! Had that been Discord? A large woman pushed into her from behind, and she spun around, confused. As much as she wanted to treat Discord as a friend, she couldn't get rid of the possibility that he might do something to her pie. Even if he just rained chocolate or snowed sugar on it, it would be ruined. Quickly, she rushed back to the pie contest, arriving just after a pale haired pie wielder.

Applejack made her way back to her pie behind contestant five. She gave Discord a smile before lifting the special pie cover. Immediately, a sigh of relief whooshed out of her lungs. It was fine and still warm. Man, did the pie cover do a good job. She placed the cover back and smiled again at Discord. "Hey, Discord, I didn't recognize ya earlier. Quite the shindig they've set up here, ain't. It?" She looked around her at all the people and booths and especially in the direction of the giant pumpkins. "Didja see the giant pumpkins?" She then looked at the pie in front of him which wasn't even covered with crust. She wrinkled her nose at the mass. "Great Celestia, Discord! What kind of pie is that?" She peered around her tall friend at contestant five, her eyes wide as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

It was then that Applejack heard a very loud thunk as if someone had set something very heavy on the table. She looked up and saw a simply massive pie in front of contestant six. The thing looked so big that she doubted she could carry it, and that was saying something. A. J. shook her head. What was this all these weird pies? First Discord's and now this young lady's. She felt her confidence growing. With all these funny pies, she was sure to win first prize. She tried not to get too eager though. Like Granny Smith always said, never judge a pie by its crust, or in Discord's case, lack of crust. For all she knew, the other pies could be delicious.

Then Applejack noticed that the young lady was waving, wiggling her fingers very flirty like. A. J. looked around her, trying to see who the lady was waving at. It then hit her. She was waving at Discord. Applejack's flabbergasted expression lasted only a moment before her mouth turned to a teasing smirk. "Oooh," she said teasingly, nudging Discord with her elbow. "Looks like someone has a lady friend." She winked at Discord before motioning to the young lady to come join them in their conversation, and while she was at it, contestant five could come over too. Why not? They still had time before the contest started. What else were they gonna do for the next twenty minutes? Just stare at each other?

[Darwin Daugherty]

Darwin Just stood back from the table leaning on the railing nearby. He wasn't too bothered as Aj walked away. Her mind was obviously elsewhere. He understood the feeling sometimes. Heck back in equestria, he sometimes saw his mind pack a bag and buy a train ticket. Noticing the Blonde haired boy give him and the others a smile, [as you learn from Pinkie pie a Smile is either a tactically aimed weapon or a weapon of mass destruction] he just gave him one in return. With the days starting to get a bit cooler, he was wearing a pure white sweater with a stylistic image of Princess celestia in front of her own cutie mark. The black sweat pants he wore had a similar style image of Princess Luna flying up the right leg with mane and tail becoming one galaxy style streak. A little something he made with a screen printing set up he had at home. Hey the guy was bored and tried a lot of new things he found. Catching Kori set her pie down, or swimming pool he should say, He wiggled his fingers back to return the greeting. There were two more that he noticed walk in. Steven and Eric. The two were memorable from the CAUS meeting. Both basically evil. And they wre holding clipboards. Come on. Evil was being tasting judges for the pie of the good guys? As someone who fills both of those roles. good and evil, he wasn't about to let feelings get trampled on just because someone has a stick forcibly replacing their spine, if you know what I mean. And I know you do reader, right. o/*

When Applejack came back he smiled to her. She checked her pie as if she was expecting it to be ruined. "Oh yes quite. And the pumpkins do look interesting from here, I think I see one that can be taken over to the destroyed house and used as a temporary 4 bedroom place.." When she mentioned his pie, he looked over at it, making sure he spoke quietly enough so the judges couldn't hear him. "It's a pie I got in a cookbook from the library. What? I read. I am a cultured Dragonequues. They call it a fruitcake pie." Noticing the blonde girl invite the blonde boy and Kori over, he waited a few moments to see if they would come over or at least get within ear shot for his quiet talk. "Just so you guys know. I read the rules of this competition, and it is supposed to be a blind, meaning they aren't to know who baked what. If they ask which pie you made, just steer the topic away." His this is going to be good smile came to the surface. Of course he was planning mischeif, he was Discord after all. But the other contestants would not be the victums, only the two judges. Of the small group they were 4 of 16 now.