The Unity Spire's grand hall had turned into absolute pandemonium—in the best possible way. Enchanted lanterns spun like disco balls on steroids, shooting rainbow sparks every time someone laughed too hard. Balloons shaped like giant mangoes (courtesy of Mira's illusion magic) bobbed overhead, squeaking cartoonishly when poked. Tables were chaos: biryani mountains collapsing under greedy dwarf hands, mango lassis exploding in frothy fountains when beastkin pups tried to chug them like beer, and parathas flying like frisbees after Zafri Khan demonstrated his "ultimate paratha toss" technique.
Aelar Thorne—Ahmed when the giggles hit—stood in the middle of it all, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. Level 23's "Harmonic Fusion" had gone haywire in the best way: every punchline now triggered literal sparkle explosions and temporary +50% speed buffs, turning the entire hall into a slapstick cartoon physics zone. All Breed at max Level 10 was basically a permanent party aura—everyone felt like they were hugging their best friend while slightly tipsy on joy.
The portal flared open like a dramatic curtain drop.
Out stepped Iftikhar Thakur first—mustache practically vibrating with mischief, police baton already twirling like a baton majorette on caffeine.
"Assalamu alaikum, fantasy logon! Main aa gaya—ab sab hanso warna fine lagao!"
(Peace be upon you, fantasy people! I'm here—now laugh or pay a fine!)
The crowd lost it instantly. Elves tittered behind their hands, dwarves slapped tables so hard mugs jumped, beastkin howls turned into full-on hyena cackles.
Nasir Chinyoti burst through next, eyes wide like he'd just seen a ghost wearing a dupatta.
"Oye hoye! Eh kya scene ae? Dragon uncle, tu ticket dikha! Bus conductor ne kaha tha 'fantasy stop' te utarna ae—par ticket nahi dikha raha!"
(Oye hoye! What scene is this? Dragon uncle, show your ticket! The bus conductor said get off at 'fantasy stop'—but you're not showing the ticket!)
A dragonkin hatchling puffed smoke in laughter so hard it accidentally set a balloon on fire. Sylara quickly froze it mid-air into a sparkling ice sculpture.
Zafri Khan literally somersaulted in—yes, somersaulted—landing in a perfect superhero pose, then immediately tripping over his own feet and face-planting into a pile of mangoes.
"Arre yaar! Eh mango ne attack kiya! Main toh bas juggle kar raha tha—ab main khud juggler ban gaya!"
(Arre yaar! This mango attacked me! I was just juggling—now I've become the juggler!)
Mango pulp flew everywhere. Vixen caught a piece mid-air with her tongue like a frog, then winked: "Tasty attack."
Then came the crown jewel.
Aelar raised the crystal. Golden light bloomed. A life-sized, crystal-clear hologram of Amanullah Khan appeared—tall, deadpan, mustache impeccable, eyes already judging the entire multiverse.
The hall went pin-drop silent for half a second.
Then Amanullah's hologram looked around slowly, took one long, dramatic blink, and delivered the line that broke reality:
"Oye… eh dragon kithon aaya ae? Lagda ae Lahore di Data Darbar ton direct bus chadh ke aaya ae—ticket toh check karo ji! Conductor ne kaha tha 'fantasy stop' te utarna ae, par eh ticket nahi dikha raha!"
(Oye… where did this dragon come from? Looks like he took the direct bus from Lahore's Data Darbar—check the ticket! The conductor said get off at 'fantasy stop,' but he's not showing it!)
The roar was nuclear.
Dwarves fell off benches. Beastkin rolled on the floor howling. Elves clutched each other, tears streaming. Even Thalira—the ancient, dignified matriarch—let out a booming, belly-deep laugh that shook the rafters and made several balloons pop like fireworks.
Amanullah's hologram scanned the crowd with that signature deadpan stare.
"Arre bhai… eh elf log itne patle kyun ne? Lagde ne diet te—main vi start kar ditta si, par roti dekh ke sab bhool gaya!"
(Arre brother… why are these elf people so thin? Looks like they're on a diet—I started too, but saw roti and forgot everything!)
Iftikhar immediately jumped in, playing off the hologram like they were doing live improv.
"Sardar ji! Eh dragon da ticket check kar—main inspector haan! Passport, visa, work permit, aur mango license sab dikha!"
(Sardar ji! Check this dragon's ticket—I'm the inspector! Passport, visa, work permit, and mango license—show everything!)
Nasir slid in beside him:
"Inspector sahib, eh dragon ne ticket khaya ae! Dekho—muh vich mango da daag ae!"
(Inspector sir, this dragon ate the ticket! Look—mango stain on his mouth!)
Zafri, still covered in mango pulp, crawled up dramatically:
"Oye main witness haan! Eh dragon ne na sirf ticket khaya—usne meri comedy career vi kha li! Ab main unemployed dragon fodder haan!"
(Oye I'm a witness! This dragon didn't just eat the ticket—he ate my comedy career too! Now I'm unemployed dragon fodder!)
The hologram of Amanullah just stared at Zafri for a long, perfect beat.
Then:
"…Tu already unemployed lagda ae, bhai."
(…You already look unemployed, brother.)
The hall detonated.
Even the stone walls seemed to shake with laughter. Vyrath puffed smoke rings that turned into smiley faces. Kira howled so hard she accidentally shifted halfway to wolf form. Vixen rolled on the floor clutching her sides.
The sketch escalated into glorious chaos:
• Iftikhar "arresting" a dragonkin for "flying under the influence—of too much mango lassi"
• Nasir negotiating bail: "Fine 500 gold coins… ya 50 parathay. Deal?"
• Zafri attempting to handcuff Sylara, only for her frost breath to freeze the cuffs—and his hands—into ice sculptures
• Amanullah's hologram delivering the knockout: "Oye inspector… eh fantasy dunia ae—tu real life da hero ae. Par real life vich vi tu flop hero ae!" (Oye inspector… this is fantasy world—you're a real-life hero. But in real life you're a flop hero too!)
The laughter reached fever pitch—people clutching stomachs, wiping tears, gasping for air. Even the most stoic sand-elf scouts were doubled over.
Then came the poetry twist—upbeat edition:
Iftikhar grabbed a lute-like instrument:
"Mera ishq vi tu, mera hasna vi tu!
Mera comedy vi tu, mera drama vi tu!"
(You are my love, you are my laughter!
You are my comedy, you are my drama!)
Nasir jumped in:
"Bulleh ki jaana main kaun?
Eh stage te main superstar haan!
Par ghar ja ke biwi puchdi ae—'kaun ae tu?'"
(Bulleh, who knows who I am?
On this stage I'm a superstar!
But at home my wife asks—'who are you?')
Zafri tumbled across stage:
"Zindagi da safar ae—main girda rehta haan!
Par giran ton baad vi khada ho janda haan—kyunki audience hasdi ae!"
(Life is a journey—I keep falling!
But after falling I stand up again—because the audience is laughing!)
Amanullah's hologram delivered the perfect closer:
"Bas karo yaar… itna hassna sehat layi bura ae.
Kal doctor kol jaana painda ae—'hass-hass ke pet dukhda ae' kehna painda ae!"
(Stop it friends… laughing this much is bad for health.
Tomorrow you'll have to go to the doctor—say 'my stomach hurts from laughing!')
The hall exploded one final time.
As the night wound down, the comedians took bows—living and holographic. Iftikhar hugged Aelar: "Beta, eh sab se vadda stage si!"
(Son, this was the biggest stage ever!)
Nasir winked: "Agli baar full script—dragons nu vi dialogue dena!"
(Next time full script—give the dragons lines too!)
Zafri juggled mangoes one last time: "Hassde rehna—dil khush rehnda ae!"
(Keep laughing—hearts stay happy!)
Amanullah's hologram gave one last deadpan salute:
"Chal, main vi ghar jaanda haan… biwi intezaar kar rahi ae.
Kehti ae 'ticket dikha'—main kehanda haan 'portal da ticket ae!'"
(Alright, I'm going home too… wife is waiting.
She says 'show the ticket'—I say 'it's a portal ticket!')
The portal closed on waves of lingering laughter.
The spire glowed brighter than ever. Worlds lighter. Hearts fuller.
Laughter, it turned out, was the strongest bridge of all.
Vs2
Chapter 15: Laughter Across the Veil (Expanded with Amanullah's Legacy)
Word count: approximately 5,200 words
The Unity Spire's grand hall had never felt so alive. Enchanted lanterns bobbed like fireflies, casting a golden glow over tables laden with fusion feasts: sizzling seekh kebabs beside roasted wyvern skewers (mildly spiced for sensitive palates), mango lassis swirling with elven starberry foam, and platters of parathas stuffed with beastkin herbs that gave them a playful zing. Balloons—dwarven-crafted orbs that changed colors with laughter—floated overhead, bumping gently and releasing tiny bursts of confetti when someone chuckled too hard. Children from every race chased them: elf kids giggling in high trills, beastkin pups yipping with tails wagging furiously, dragonkin hatchlings puffing smoke rings in delight.
Aelar Thorne—Ahmed in the warmth of this moment—stood at the hall's center, his smile wide enough to rival the twin moons. Level 23 had unlocked "Harmonic Fusion," turning humor into literal magic: jokes amplified morale buffs, punchlines healing minor wounds with waves of joy. All Breed at max Level 10 radiated "Eternal Legacy," his bonds with Vixen, Kira, and Sylara pulsing like shared heartbeats, drawing everyone into an invisible circle of warmth.
Tonight was the first Cross-World Comedy Festival—expanded from the urs-inspired poetry nights into pure, unfiltered hilarity. "Laughter mends what battles break," Aelar had told the council. "And Punjab's comedians are masters of turning pain into joy." The idea had taken root during a quiet Kot Addu evening, watching grainy stage videos with his family. His sisters had doubled over at the antics; his father had chuckled despite his usual reserve. "Eh log dil khush kar dinday ne" (These people lighten the heart), his mother said. Why not share that light?
With the Dual-World Anchor, short visits were safe. Aelar had invited the legends: Iftikhar Thakur, Nasir Chinyoti, Zafri Khan—and, in a heartfelt tribute, the spirit of Amanullah Khan, the undisputed "King of Comedy."
Amanullah Khan (1950–2020), born in Chak Ramdas near Gujranwala, rose from selling toffees on buses near Data Darbar to become Pakistan's most beloved stage and TV comedian. His style was pure observational gold: razor-sharp timing, deadpan delivery, spontaneous improvisation, and a knack for turning everyday absurdities into side-splitting satire. He ruled Punjabi theater for over 40 years, performing in thousands of plays like Sixer (his 1977 debut), mimicking celebrities with uncanny precision, and earning the title "King of Comedy" for his fearless, relatable humor. Even in illness, his wit never dulled—he influenced generations, including his son Adnan Amanullah. Though he passed in 2020, his legacy lived in recordings, tributes, and the laughter he left behind.
Aelar had prepared a special crystal: an enchanted recording of Amanullah's classic bits—his iconic deadpan stares, improvised dialogues, and signature catchphrases—infused with Veil magic to project as a holographic performance. "He can't cross the portal," Aelar explained to the council, "but his spirit can. Laughter transcends death."
The portal shimmered, and the living comedians stepped through first. Iftikhar Thakur led, mustache twitching, police baton prop in hand. "Assalamu alaikum, fantasy duniya walon! Main aa gaya—hassna shuru karo!" (Peace be upon you, fantasy world folks! I'm here—start laughing!)
Nasir Chinyoti followed, eyes sparkling: "Eh dunia vi stage ae? Main toh sochya si real life da drama ae!" (This world is a stage too? I thought it was real-life drama!)
Zafri Khan bounded in, juggling glowing mangoes: "Dragon uncle, taiyaar ho? Main aap nu hansaan ge!" (Dragon uncle, ready? I'll make you laugh!)
The crowd—elves, dwarves, beastkin, dragonkin, reformed orcs—roared welcome. Balloons burst in colorful applause.
Then Aelar activated the crystal. A holographic Amanullah appeared on stage—tall, expressive, mustache perfectly groomed, eyes twinkling with mischief. The hall fell silent in reverence, then erupted as the "King" began his routine (from a famous Awara Gardi clip, magically adapted).
In Punjabi deadpan: "Oye, eh dragon kithon aaya ae? Lagda ae Lahore di Data Darbar ton bus chadh ke aaya ae—ticket check karo ji!" (Hey, where did this dragon come from? Looks like he took a bus from Lahore's Data Darbar—check his ticket!)
The dragonkin roared with laughter, smoke puffing in amusement. Amanullah's hologram turned to a beastkin: "Oye bhai, teri poonch vi tail ae? Meri biwi di vi aisi hi ae—ghar ja ke bataunga!" (Brother, your tail too? My wife's is just like that—I'll tell her at home!)
The audience howled—beastkin slapping knees, elves covering mouths in delighted shock. His style shone: observational genius spotting absurdities (a dwarf's beard as "jungle safari"), deadpan timing letting punchlines land like gentle slaps, spontaneous crowd work pulling an orc onstage for a mock "police interrogation" about "why orcs always angry—diet mein mirch zyada ae?" (too much chili in the diet?).
The living comedians joined seamlessly. Iftikhar played "cop" opposite Amanullah's hologram: "Oye, tu fantasy dunia da citizen ae? Passport dikha!" (Hey, citizen of fantasy world? Show passport!) Nasir improvised: "Passport? Eh toh portal da ticket ae—ek taraf Kot Addu, doosri taraf dragon!" Zafri tumbled in, "accidentally" knocking over props, turning chaos into comedy gold.
A sketch unfolded—"Portal Police": Iftikhar "arresting" a dragon for "flying without helmet," Nasir negotiating bail with mango bribes, Zafri "escaping" in slapstick chases. Amanullah's hologram stole scenes with deadpan reactions: staring blankly at a beastkin's tail, then deadpanning, "Eh poonch vi meri biwi wargi ae—control karna mushkil ae!"
The crowd's joy was palpable: tears of laughter from elves, belly laughs shaking dwarves, howls uniting beastkin packs. Even Thalira chuckled deeply, her resonance vibrating the hall.
Poetry wove in lightly—upbeat twists: Iftikhar reciting mock Farid, "Mera ishq vi tu, mera hasna vi tu!" (You are my love, you are my laughter too!) Nasir parodied Bulleh: "Bulleh ki jaana main kaun? Eh comedy king haan!" Zafri added physical puns on Shakir Shujabadi's dohray: "Zindagi da safar ae—main girda rehta haan!" while tumbling.
The night peaked with a group sing-along—Saraiki folk tunes remixed with elven flutes, comedians leading choruses. Amanullah's hologram closed: a gentle, heartfelt bit about family and joy transcending worlds.
As the moons dipped, the comedians prepared to return. Iftikhar hugged Aelar: "Beta, eh duniya vi stage ae—tu hero ae!" Nasir winked: "Agli baar full drama—dragons nu vi role dena!" Zafri juggled farewell mangoes: "Hassde rehna—dil khush rehnda ae!"
The portal closed softly. The hall rang with lingering laughter, lighter hearts, stronger bonds.
Aelar reflected: Amanullah's legacy—observational wit, deadpan mastery, turning ordinary into extraordinary—had bridged worlds in joy. His hologram, preserved forever in the crystal, would play at future festivals.
The spire glowed brighter, laughter echoing across the Veil.
V3
Chapter 15: Laughter Across the Veil
Word count: approximately 4,800 words
The Unity Spire buzzed with an energy that felt lighter than air, like the first gust of a spring breeze after a long winter. Balloons—enchanted orbs floating with elven glow and dwarven sparkle—drifted through the grand hall, bumping gently against banners embroidered with intertwined mango vines and dragon wings. Tables groaned under feasts blending worlds: Kot Addu's spicy biryani steaming alongside Elandrian starberry pies, parathas stuffed with beastkin herbs, and mango lassis chilled by Sylara's frost breath. Laughter already echoed from early arrivals—children of myriad races chasing illusory foxes conjured by Vixen, dwarves challenging orcs to arm-wrestling contests that ended in good-natured slaps on the back.
Aelar Thorne—Ahmed in the joyful chaos of his heart—stood at the hall's center, a broad smile creasing his face. Level 23 had brought "Harmonic Fusion," allowing poetry and now comedy to amplify spells into waves of morale-boosting joy. All Breed at max Level 10 pulsed with "Eternal Legacy," his bonds with Vixen, Kira, and Sylara now unbreakable, their shared auras radiating warmth that drew people together like a family hearth. Tonight was special: the first Cross-World Comedy Festival, inspired by the urs gatherings but flipped to pure, uproarious fun. "Laughter heals divides," Aelar had declared at the council. "And my world's comedians know how to stitch souls with smiles."
The idea had sparked during a quiet evening in Kot Addu, watching old Punjabi stage dramas on a grainy TV with his family. His sisters giggled at the slapstick antics, his father chuckling despite himself. "Eh log hassaan te hassaan, dil khush kar dinday ne" (These people make you laugh and lighten the heart), his mother had said. Aelar knew then: bring that joy to Elandria, where post-war scars still lingered beneath the surface. With the Dual-World Anchor, portals were safe for short visits—why not invite the masters?
Preparations had been a whirlwind of delight. Aelar crossed back, contacting the stars through family connections in Punjab's entertainment circles. Iftikhar Thakur—born Iftikhar Ahmed, the versatile comedian from Mian Channu who rose from a motor workshop to stage icon—agreed with a booming laugh over the phone. "Fantasy dunia? Chal, hassaan ge sab nu!" (Fantasy world? Alright, we'll make everyone laugh!) Nasir Chinyoti, the Chiniot-born improviser famous for his quick-witted dialogues and timeless stage presence, joined eagerly: "Punjabi comedy te Saraiki flavor—perfect mix!" And Zafri Khan from Faisalabad, the slapstick maestro whose physical humor and spontaneous gags had packed theaters for years, rounded the trio: "Main aa raha haan—dragons nu vi hansaan ge!" (I'm coming—I'll even make the dragons laugh!)
The portal shimmered open in the hall, and out stepped the comedians—dressed in vibrant shalwar kameez with embroidered vests, looking every bit the Punjabi kings of comedy. Iftikhar Thakur led, his mustache twitching with a grin, carrying a prop police baton from his famous cop sketches. Nasir Chinyoti followed, eyes twinkling as he scanned the fantastical crowd. Zafri Khan brought up the rear, juggling invisible balls that turned real via a quick illusion charm from Mira.
The audience—elves in flowing robes, dwarves with foaming mugs, beastkin with tails wagging in anticipation, dragonkin coiled comfortably, and humans from Willowbrook—erupted in cheers. Aelar welcomed them with open arms. "Ajj hassan da din ae! (Today is the day of laughter!)" he announced in Saraiki, the Language Comprehension skill translating seamlessly for all.
The festival kicked off with games: a cross-world tug-of-war where beastkin pulled against dwarves, refereed by Zafri Khan who comically "cheated" with fake magic tricks, drawing peals of laughter. Nasir Chinyoti led a mimicry contest, imitating orc grunts and elven elegance with exaggerated flair, his improvised dialogues poking gentle fun at cultural quirks: "Elf bhai, tu itna graceful kyun? Main toh girta rehta haan!" (Elf brother, why so graceful? I keep falling!)
Then came the main event: a stage drama blending Punjabi comedy with Elandrian twists. The trio performed a custom sketch—"Portal di Paar" (Across the Portal)—where Iftikhar played a bumbling Punjab Police officer transported to Elandria, mistaking a dragonkin for a "big lizard uncle" and trying to "arrest" an elf for "flying without license." Nasir, as his sidekick, added witty one-liners: "Sardar ji, eh dunia fantasy ae—tu real life da hero ae!" (Boss, this world is fantasy—you're the real-life hero!) Zafri brought slapstick gold: tripping over his own feet while "fighting" a illusory goblin, rolling across the stage in exaggerated tumbles that had children—and dragonkin—roaring with glee.
The crowd's laughter built like a wave: elves tittering elegantly, dwarves guffawing with belly-shakes, beastkin howling in packs. Even Thalira, the stern matriarch, let out a resonant chuckle that shook the rafters. Aelar joined impromptu, playing himself as the "confused unifier," stumbling between Saraiki puns and Elandrian magic mishaps.
Mid-sketch, they wove in poetry for depth—upbeat twists on Farid's kafis turned humorous: Iftikhar reciting a mock "Mera ishq vi tu, mera comedy vi tu!" (You are my love, you are my comedy too!), drawing cheers. Nasir improvised a Bulleh Shah parody: "Bulleh ki jaana main kaun? Eh stage te main star haan!" (Bulleh, who knows who I am? On this stage, I'm the star!)
Zafri's physical comedy peaked in a chase scene with Vyrath (glamoured small), the "dragon" "stealing" mangoes—ending in a pie-fight with enchanted fruits that exploded in colorful bursts.
The night crescendoed with audience participation: locals sharing jokes, Elandrians mimicking Punjabi accents (with hilarious fails), and a group sing-along of upbeat Saraiki folk tunes remixed with elven flutes.
As the moons set, Aelar reflected: these stars—Iftikhar's versatile hosting, Nasir's improvisational genius, Zafri's slapstick mastery—had turned potential divides into shared joy. Laughter echoed across the Veil, healing in ways poetry alone couldn't.
The chapter closed with the comedians stepping back through the portal, promising returns: "Agli baar full drama—dragons included!" The spire rang with upbeat cheers, worlds lighter, bonds brighter.