Chapter 1: The birth of the Magik Riktus Clan
The carrot collides with the hollow melons, bringing to a climactic close Amloch's innovative symphony... or so he thought, at least.
But what's this? The composer passes his hat through the crowd, and he doesn't collect a bean.
"At least they had the generosity to throw us a few rotten tomatoes last time", Smirkerth grumbled as they inched along the path away from the Inn, "I made a fine drum skin out of those tomato peels, I did."
... He blew a distracted note somewhere between do and re, (a 'bo', as the specialists call it)...
"It's like squeezing blood out of a turnip with these people..." Dusolair was just beginning a defeatist monologue when Firetellini threw his egg shakers to the ground, and brandishing an enormous broccoli drumstick, he ran off towards the Inn, screaming "I'm going to kill them all, they don't understand a thing about art..."
It took all three of his brothers, and a lot of rolling in the dust, to calm him down that time.
Raw vegetable quartets were a thing of the past in the World of Twelve, at least for the time being, and the violent miming act that Amloch, Smirkerth, Dusolair and Firetellini were busy performing, having run out of suitable words to scream at one another, was no more fashionable.
"We're innovators, visionaries," Amloch lectured, "but the common folk just don't understand. It's up to us. We have to..."
A low rumbling sound rang out and echoed in the moonlit night, just as Smirkerth fell to his knees and began to weep.
"My belly's been talking to me again, telling me to do things. Terrible things. I... I almost ate my leek flute this morning," he confessed, the shame bursting out of him in bitter tears.
In reality, the other three were feeling more than a little peckish themselves, but they managed to hide their suffering better than Smirkerth. Amloch continued:
- We can't go on like this. I hate to say it, but I think we're going to have to start doing what people want. And you all know what people want these days...
- Dofus eggs? Dusolair suggested
- Dofus eggs... no... but how do people get these eggs? Come on, are you with me?
They were not with him. Firetellini had had enough -
- How about we just have a good punch-up with anyone who...
- Exactly, brother! At least one of you is thinking. Punch-ups. Everyone's doing it these days. Remember that show we played last week... everyone was about to leave when a punch-up started in the cheap seats. Every last person stayed to watch.
- That's true, Smirkerth admitted.
Dusolair had his doubts...
- But do you really think that public punch-ups will get the crowds going? There's no way they'll pay us.
- Oh but you're wrong. Because our shows will be interactive. No more silent hat passing when the music's over, we'll take our fee directly from their pockets. It's more convenient for everyone!
Amloch was in such a creative mood, that he took up a cucumber trombone and began to sketch wildly in the thick, red dirt. A banana... and a circle. A banana and a circle?
-What's that, the three brothers chorused.
-That? That's a banana and a circle.
- It kind of looks like a Cyclops with a smile, or a rictus, as they say, said Dusolair.
What followed is too long and monotonous to repeat here, but the important thing is that there and then, the Magik Riktus clan was born
Chapter 2 :The forgotten clan and the lost treasure
The Magik Riktus clan travelled throughout Amakna for the next few months, and for a while they even seemed set to become more popular than the Rogues. Their show was so successful that wherever they went, hopeful young fans begged to join the travelling punch-up. This got the brothers thinking. Power beckoned, and none of the four siblings resisted, or even tried. They opened the doors of the clan to whoever wished to enter, with two simple requirements. Recruits had to be skilled with a bow, sword, staff or wand and had to wear the now feared costume bearing the clan's symbol.
The years passed, and rumors began to circulate that the clan had amassed a colossal fortune as they grew more and more adept at stealing money from their spectators. They got so good that a whole fighting style grew out of their sneaky ways, and soon the clan were expert in fully fledged combat, too. And then one day, the four founding fathers of the clan disappeared. Nothing but depressed fans and cheap t-shirts remained... and then another day a piece of parchment with a mysterious message was found.
It took years, centuries in fact, to finally unlock the secret hidden on the parchment. In our time, the inheritors of the clan decided to end its activities, even as their numbers were growing still. The members became unrecognizable from the ordinary inhabitants of the World of Twelve, and although they had secret signs to identify one another, none of them would ever put on a Magik Riktus costume again or entertain and impoverish an ecstatic cabaret crowd.
The Magik Rictus clan would have fallen into the mists of time if it hadn't been for Yrucrem.
Yrucrem was the first fan recruited by the four brothers, and it was he who became chief when the brothers left. He could not let the clan just disappear. One day he took the parchment, and marched across the square of Astrub to nail it to a tall post, crying aloud the clan motto - "Chomoossgohone!"
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Chapter 3 :The found treasure and the magic formula
Once Yrucrem had done this, many adventurers set out to solve the mystery. The cleverest among them slowly figured it out, and what they found was that it was in fact a formula. It was the secret that had allowed the brothers to steal from their spectators with the ease that made legends of them the world over. As soon as the formula was read, however, the parchment dissipated throughout the entire world, finally disappearing altogether. Nonetheless, the lowest life forms in the World of Twelve - the robbers, the burglars, the apple-pie snatchers, and even a few mischievous children - carried out their business with surprising ease for a few days afterwards.
But the event was not without consequences for the Magik Riktus clan who made the most of the new found publicity, taking their "Punch-up show" back on the road... far beyond the Trool Fair, where Yrucrem's fellow student, Leonzi Trool, had given them shelter for so long.
Adventurers of the world, tie those purses tight!