Back on the Road

Back on the Road

Postby Treadwell » Thu Feb 04, 2016 1:41 pm

Morning. The exterior of the Broken Dagger Inn.

Aloisius Treadwell stands on the porch, wearing a warm, brown, fur-fluffy robe and his favorite brown, floppy hat. One hand grips his cane, keeping him steady; the other hand offers the tasty delights of a hunk of mutton, mostly devoured. He expects to meet N'vek out front after breakfast, but, for Treadwell, breakfast simply spilled over from the bar to the front door. Munching continues, all the same.

Some ten or fifteen feet distant is the Treadwell family carriage, driven by the portly, elderly butler in black, Gregory, and pulled by that horse that so matches its owner, Arnold. The coach itself is a round-bodied affair, large and comfy within with its cushioned seats and its cabinets of food and drink and its tiny stove just in case there needs to be a little more warmth (or a hasty heating of supper). Right now, a small bit of smoke fizzles out the little stack atop the coach.

A few more moments of waiting pass; the mutton leg, soon picked clean, is flung wide and far to the trees, and Aloisius Horatio Treadwell wobbles in place, turning to peer through the front window of the Dagger while he waits for his young friend and traveling companion.
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: Back on the Road

Postby Shobits » Thu Feb 04, 2016 3:23 pm

Treadwell said he had supplies with him, but N`vek still brought some of his own belongings nonetheless. Warm clothes and a carry sack. He was human of course, it had been months since the boy was last seen as his squiddly self. N`vek himself couldn't even remember, but it seemed to be fine with the boy. He would meet up with Treadwell on the porch, an awkward smile on his face, but he was ready to go.

"Hello, Mr. Treadwell."
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Re: Back on the Road

Postby Treadwell » Thu Feb 04, 2016 3:49 pm

"Hullo, mmph mmph!" Hand that was moments ago holding mutton comes to rest on stomach. "I trust you have eaten, m'boy? Do you need any more time to get anything together?"

And, not waiting for much of an answer, Treadwell starts off the porch, creaking down the steps and toward the carriage. Arnold gives a sniggered, horsey hello, and Gregory hastily hefts from his seat up front to toddle to the side door, opening it and pulling out a sturdy step stool from within. An arm is offered to help the Lord Steward up and into the carriage, and, then, the butler takes a step back to allow N'vek space to get in on his own.

The interior of the carriage is neat enough, with fluffy blankets the match of the one on the couch inside the Dagger resting on the cushiony benches within. The two benches face each other, and sunlight comes in through the opened door on one side and the slats of the shut window on the other.

"Come in, come in, mmph mmph!" calls the seated Tubbian once he settles. "I think you shall like it well enough in here, m'boy! And, Gregory, once we're both in here, hm hm, feel free to make north through town, mmph, on Main Street, and we shall continue from there to, I think, mmph, Swinstead. That's a good three leagues off or so, and given the snow still about. . . Well. I should think it would be reasonable to be there around time for lunch!"

Lunch.

Of course, the old man would already be thinking about lunch.
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: Back on the Road

Postby Shobits » Thu Feb 04, 2016 6:47 pm

"Yes I have, Ser." N`vek answered. "I'm guessing we have a long journey coming." Not that there would be any shortage of food on this trip. "No, Ser, I have everything together that I should need." And once again, as did Treadwell.

The slip of a young man, still retaining that squid-like lankiness even in his human form, followed after the councilor and climbed into the carriage. Even with his small size, and there being two rows of seats facing oneanother, it was still a troubled fit.

"Thank you." N`vek would say to the butler.
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Re: Back on the Road

Postby Treadwell » Sun Feb 07, 2016 1:03 pm

"You are quite welcome, young master!" comes the merry greeting from the old butler as he returns the stool to the inside of the carriage and then closes the side door. In a few moments and with a snap or two of the reins, the carriage takes to rolling sluggishly along as Arnold ambles away from the Broken Dagger.

"Mmph! So, dear boy, tell me, hm hm, are you comfortable? There is a blanket there next to you, mmph, and I have tried to make it as warm as I safely can in here," he adds as he gives a waggle of a hand toward the gently burning stove with its pipe that leads up and out of the coach. "We will go through town, of course, and then it's a fairly straight trip up the road. As I said a moment ago, we will stop for lunch in Swinstead, mmph, as I have a few friends there who would not mind feeding us in their home--the mayor there and his wife, hm hm. He's a young fellow, mmph, name of Cole. He is well-to-do, mmph, and he's made his fortune on the back of a sizable pig farm, yes, and we Tubbians, mmph, used to sometimes fetch some meat from him when I still had the Church meeting here."

Treadwell pauses here to take a wheezy breath and to rub at his chest under that pillowy beard, his beady eyes trying to peek out the side window. With a grimace and some squeaks of his joints, he squirms over and reaches up with his cane to loosen the latch on the window, letting a little more light (and some cool air) into the carriage.

"There! Now we can at least look out at the town, mmph, as we ride through it! There are not many people, hm hm, out this time of morning, but, well, maybe we can see something fun or interesting as we go, eh?"

Another pause, and then a curious addition.

"You are sure that we do not need to stop anywhere for anything before we leave town? I can gladly direct Gregory to direct Arnold down a street, mmph, so we can fetch it."
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: Back on the Road

Postby Shobits » Thu Feb 11, 2016 4:14 am

"Yes, Ser. Quite comfortable." N`vek would reply before snatching up that blanket and draping it about himself. "It's plenty warm, the blanket will be enough. Besides, being human now, I don't have the cold sleep hanging over me." No more cold sleep, that was a wondrous thing to the formerly squidboy. He was even near completely adjusted to being human all the time now. N`vek hadn't tossed something to an absent tentacle in months. He'd nod and listen as Treadwell detailed the trip, mentally chuckling. Of course they'd be stopping at a Tubbian's house for lunch, who else could feed one?

"Is there something the matter?" N`vek would start as Treadwell shifted to the window. But, it was only to let some light and air in, and open up a means to view outside.

"Nothing, Ser. I came prepared." And Treadwell had more supplies with him.
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Re: Back on the Road

Postby Treadwell » Sun Feb 14, 2016 3:16 pm

"Mmph. Well, m'boy, that is well, I reckon."

Eyes peer out. The center of Myrkentown is focused on businesses. The bakery where Gideon apprentices was passed a couple of streets ago--on Baker Street, fittingly!--and now, in the distance visible through the snow and the gray haze over the town at the moment, the Deck and Treadwell's toy shop behind it.

"Home there, lad, or the next best thing!" Cane tips at the building in question. "I had a great deal of trouble, mmph, getting back that property, hm, and others at one time that someone took them all from me."

From the front of the coach, the elderly butler's voice calls back. "My Lord! The road's still heavy with snow ahead here. We shall need to turn off to go around it!"

"Then off to Bridge, mmph, and back to Main by Ravens-ridge, mmph mmph! Arnold and the coach should fit through all of there, hm hm!"

Here, Aloisius wiggles to the side again, this time to stretch a pudgy arm to pull the window shutters closed and then to lock them again.

"Now, N'vek, that doesn't mean, mmph, that I have the lack of sense to leave the window open going through the, ahem, slightly poorer parts. They are still nice enough near the market, hm, but should we have to go too far off from Main. . . well."

A sigh escapes, and Treadwell sinks back into his seat, tugging his fluffy blanket back into place properly. The carriage shifts, creaking through the turn to the left and rolling on slowly, and, soon, back to the right to carry on roughly parallel to Main Street for the moment. In short order, they ride on Ravens-ridge, and then?

"It looks like we're free of the worst of it, M'lord!"

Shift of weight back to the left, and then, Main Street resumes, the carriage clunkity-clunking along. Weavers Row, then Merchants Row, and after that?

The gate out of town stands tall enough. A couple of the laziest guards man it at the moment, one of whom has spent a fair amount of time under the tutelage of the exiting Tubbius Regalis. To his feet he hefts, scratching his middle all the while, and commands are grumped to see gateway opened enough for horse and coach to depart.

"And here! Out we go, m'boy, mmph mmph! Now, should we have no problems, hee hee, we should be in Swinstead by lunch! Now, that is, of course, if we should face no, erm, serious problems on the way."
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: Back on the Road

Postby Shobits » Sat Feb 20, 2016 1:44 pm

"Well, that is good to hear." N`vek allowed himself a small smile, though he was still nervous about this whole venture, bits of stress and unsureness from all the time he'd spent in that squidlike body. But this trip was a good cause. He was helping Treadwell and in turn the children.

Speaking of Gideon, the young man was happy with this work, any son of Treadwell would be working in a bakery!

"Someone took them from you?" N`vek asked, confused. But then they were interrupted. Heavy snow blocking the regular pathways. The bridge was mentioned and the formerly squidboy fidgeted a little. The bridge routinely saw a lot a traffic, a lot of horses, certainly a good deal more weight than just Treadwell. They were perfectly safe. Treadwell was a big guy, his butler was a big guy, and the horse too. But, it was just foolish to think the bridge wouldn't be able to withstand the weight.

Then the window was closed and their view taken away. No more watching the world go by, N`vek turned back to look upon the councilor as he explained the reason. He nodded slowly. it wasn't often N`vek ventured far from the area of Myrken that had become his home. Looking as he did... had. He'd put that behind him now, hadn't he? shed off his other form, the one he'd worn longer than the human he was born as. He was free now. To go where he wanted without hearing shouts of monster. But, it still felt wrong.

The boy was silent as they continued their journey. Lunch. A stop for lunch, if all went well.

"Yes, Ser. I look forward to it."
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Re: Back on the Road

Postby Treadwell » Sun Feb 21, 2016 3:10 pm

"Yes, m'boy. Took them from me, hm hm. It's. . . a fairly long story, mmph, but at one time, I was shrunken down, kidnapped by fairies, you see, as repayment for having eaten one of their own as a roast at lunch, mmph, and, well, put into a magical sleep for about a year and some. In that time, their king took great pains, hrm, to try to ruin my reputation here and see my properties confiscated. He cost me a marriage. . . and I did not find those two children again 'til their mother was dead, mmph, and they were left orphaned, so they thought, at the very orphanage we are going to visit and set to rights."

The great-bellied fellow chortles merrily despite this peculiar story, a grin warming his ruddy face.

"That fairy king, hm hm, and his half-brother physician, and all of his people under his rule? They are all quite portly little Tubbian faithfuls, now, mmph, every last one of 'em, hee hee! We have all made up quite nicely with one another, hrm, and for that devotion, Tubbius blesses them quite, quite abundantly."

A nod sets jowls to rippling beneath beard.

"I lead a peculiar life, N'vek! Most peculiar! Now--harrumph!" Exertion again, as he once more hefts his weight on his seat to reopen the side window and allow chilly air and brilliant sun into the coach again. "We--" a wheeeeee of breath flitters out as he resituates his weight. "We have not very far. . . very far to go, hm hm. Granted. . ."

Getting back to his feet, or at least partially so, finds Treadwell steadying himself against the wall with a hand.

"Greg'ry, mmph!"

"M'lord?" comes the aged call back through the breeze outside.

"Pass right by Saint Thecla, mmph mmph! I usually have little reason to deal with 'em, and I do not care to do so today!"

"Yes, m'lord!"

And back into his seat Treadwell goes for the second time in such a short while. Fluffy brows scrunch up over eyeglasses as breath escapes in a frosty huff.

"I have not had the most pleasant encounters with the folks at that monastery, mmph, for a good many years, now. I should care to avoid them if I can."

And from up front?

"We are passing it now, sir! Are you sure you don't care to stop?"

"Why would I, Gregory?"

"Well, m'lord. . . we have to get around a lump of snow somehow. It blocks the road fairly well."

"Hmph."

Eyes squint past N'vek, and, failing that, Treadwell leans to one side and forward, his belly barely managing to fold on itself. Breath is taken with a gruff gasp, and beady eyes scrutinize a map hanging behind the former squid-child.

"North to Fyeden, Gregory! It means going off the North Passage Down, mmph, but if you stay northward or thereabouts, mmph, we'll reach Fyeden in short order!"

"As you wish, m'lord!"

And thus does Arnold and carriage begin to shift lazily northward, a slight right to correct course through largely open fields.
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: Back on the Road

Postby Shobits » Mon Feb 29, 2016 4:41 am

Even with his squid history, N`vek was a little loath to believe Treadwell's story. There was just something that seemed, well... wrong with Treadwell being small. Sadly, the part about the councilor accidentally eating a fairy was more believable. But something just still felt off. The presently human boy fidgeted and stared. He knew it was rude to interrupt mid-telling, but he needed to ask some things. Another moment passed and then N`vek asked his question to the large man.

"As a roast? Was the fairy turned into a pig or something? I mean I think you'd notice a roasted fairy." He'd hoped Treadwell would notice a person shaped roasted figure and raise some questions. Heck, even N`vek himself had turned green (literally and figuratively) at the idea of eating squid, and that just bore a passing resemblance to his former form. "How did you accidentally eat a fairy?" And he was shrunk and sleeping. "Did they replace you here?" Changelings, but an adult? The young man frowned. "Sorry..." Sorry to hear the tale and sorry for the interruptions.

It also seemed that Treadwell had a personal stake in the orphanage.

N`vek was treated to more of Tubbian linkage stories, but there were questions. "How did you make up?"

I lead a peculiar life, N`vek! Most peculiar! Peculiar wasn't the word that N`vek himself would have chosen. "It feels like many Myrkeners and the surrounding lands do." Fairies, dragons, unicorns, Faeries, monsters in the forest, and a host of other beasties, including me, N`vek thought darkly. Even with the ability to change, he still was one of those beasties.

N`vek looked out the window once it was opened again. The fresh air felt pleasant and he had something else to see. Something to distract him from the nuances of politics and connections Treadwell chatted with Gregory about. He didn't ask, but Treadwell brought the attention of the why another detour back to him. N`vek pulled away from the window and looked upon the large man again. Why would a monastery and Treadwell hold grudges?
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Re: Back on the Road

Postby Treadwell » Wed Mar 02, 2016 1:17 pm

"The fairy was plump enough to pass for a morsel, mmph. At the time, m'boy, not all fae folk of Hibera were as portly as they are now, but this one--one of a very few at the time--certainly was. He was tasty enough, mmph, but, well, he was one of his king's chief advisors, hm hm, one Hiram Ginnis by name. He was slathered in garlic, hrm, he was roasted, and he was the reason that Richard Aengus saw me shrunk and put to sleep, hm hm, for a year and some."

Ahhh, more details!

"But you did not ask for a recipe, mmph mmph. You asked how I made up with the Hiberan fairies!" Treadwell's usual easy, warm smile returns to his face, having briefly slipped away at the description of his stature-reducing punishment. "After I woke and escaped from their kingdom, mmph, I returned home and promptly had to undo a whole mess of problems. You see, mmph, the king had been working hard at telling folks that he was the real Aloisius Treadwell, hm hm, and that led to questions of ownership of lands, titles, my home, mmph, my toy shop. . . and it even led to my wife, Raylan, seeing our marriage dissolved, running away, and taking our children off to Geilston, hm hm, where we are ultimately going, on this trip. I was furious!"

Fingers drum on gurgly stomach in an attempt to quiet the swooshiness within.

"Well, rather than deal with the possibility of my sending in a whole slew of Myrken guards to assault New Hibera in revenge, Richard promptly stopped being a bother and hid in his little holed up cave, mmph mmph. You see, fairies of his type are only three or four inches high, hm, so they can easily be caught in nets or stepped upon or, mmph, swatted. A formal apology was issued, mmph, and that was that. . . until, hm, he claimed a divine revelation from Tubbius Himself, mmph mmph, led to the fat, pink fae's wholeheartedly joining the faith. His half-brother, the court physician, was a scrawny little bit of nothing at the time, and, well, he was likewise apparently contacted, mmph, and suitably blessed! The poor little whitewing--mmph, that's, err, the term for their sorts of fairies, you see. They sort them by colors, mmph, like pinkwings, whitewings, and the like. The poor little whitewing--"

A pause here for the toymaker to wheeeeeze a breath or two!

"He had no clue what to do about his suddenly burgeoning appetite, mmph mmph, and in short order, to the mystery and bewilderment of all Richard's court, mmph, Orin Barrin, court physician, had plumped to the same size of his days-older sibling. Now, what better portrayal of a divine influence, mmph, and mission than for an old fairy who had lived hundreds of years a veritable twig, mmph mmph, to take up vows as a priest of Tubbius?" Hands pat-pat that burbling belly, again, and Treadwell huffily stretches to withdraw a slab of cut ham from a basket by his bench. Munching begins.

"With that done, Tubbius tested the fairies of New Hibera, yes yes. He allowed their food stores to swell immensely, magically increasing all they had there, with his two representatives--their king, mmph, and that doctor fellow next in line--preaching the need to do nothing else but to eat to please Tubbius, mmph, and to ensure further bounty. It, hm hm, took a bit of time, yes--"

Chomp into slab of ham. . . Chew. . . chew. . .

"Mmnd mmbt they--"

Swallow!

"They started to enjoy themselves quite nicely. You must understand, m'boy N'vek, that these are fairies who had had very little to ever eat for centuries, and here, hm hm, before them was suddenly a seemingly unending wave of delights and morsels! All they had to do, hm hm, was merely to eat, to drink, to turn their devotions from an uncaring, mmph, Great Fae to a god who clearly meant for them to thrive quite well, hm hm, to have all they might ever want! By Tubbius's great gut! Every last one of 'em, hm hm, swelled to right merry balls in a year's time! A great many of their bluewings and whitewings--their scribes, mmph, and their mages--took up vows in the Church of Tubbius, mmph. It quite nearly became, hm hm, a veritable theocracy, mmph, with Richard's merely being a figurehead."

A fat pointer jabs upward, though, sudden and spike like and sharp.

"And then, as they began to actually read their holy scriptures, The Folds of Tubbius, they came to understand just whom they were worshiping; the faith makes it quite, quite clear that their god, mmph, likes to take shape as a mortal every so many years, hm hm, favoring the family line of one Tobias of Amasynia. . . . Said mortal body always ascends to the leadership of the Church, and, well, a bit of research and study, mmph, had them learn that, well, the faith dictates that their Tubbius and their poor, poor, Mister Treadwell were one and the same."

Another great grin wraps Treadwell's face. From outside, Gregory's squeak of a voice interrupts with "Nearing Fyeden, m'lord!"

"Of course, Gregory! Find us an inn to stop at, mmph, where you can rest Arnold!" Neck turns back to N'vek. "Ooooooh, m'boy, the number of prayers and apologies that went up to Tubbius the night they found all that out, mmph mmph! Hee hee! Now, m'boy, that is the short tale of just how the fairies of New Hibera became the greatest little bunch of Tubbian priests I have yet to lead!"

Treadwell's great, merry grin finally sinks into a gelatinous, slippery frown.

"And that is also quite why I would rather avoid Saint Thecla at all costs, mmph. Apart from my, mmmm, butting heads with the head of their order numerous times on matters relating to property and land as Councilor for Revenue and Finance, interim Governor, mmph, and Lord Steward, they do not take very kindly to a fellow who is head of an opposing church, hrm, that wholeheartedly declares said fellow is a god, toddling 'round in an obese bag of a body, hm hm. It quite throws all their ideas of denying the self, and restraining one's appetites, and all that rot, hm hm, away and stomps all over 'em! We, hrm hrm, quite honestly and quite simply do not see eye to eye at all."

From the front of the carriage?

"The Smoking Pipe Bar and Beds, m'lord! Does this sound suitable? It is the only tavern I have seen yet, but we are just on the edge of this town, all the same?"

"Perfectly fine, Gregory, mmph mmph! Let us out by the door, hm, and see Arnold to the stables to take care of him. We'll have our lunch here, I think, instead of Swinstead, and I reckon we can stay here for the afternoon and leave out again in the morning. A bit of resting or shopping or merely strolling 'round, hm hm, shouldn't hurt us a bit, eh?"

Treadwell's face lights up again in an ear to ear, jowl jiggling smile.

"It's a town of lumberjacks, wood workers, and the like, m'boy! They are excellent craftsmen and hard working fellows, hm hm, and some of 'em have most wonderful carvings and furniture for sale! And, well, the beer and black bread here at this very inn, hm hm, is quite good, too."
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: Back on the Road

Postby Shobits » Sun Mar 13, 2016 10:10 am

So,, not only had Treadwell accidentally eaten a rather plump little fairy, but the man called him TASTY, and described the way the little fairy had been prepared. N`vek was feeling mighty queasy by now, but the young man took some solace in the fact that Treadwell at least knew the poor fairy's name. But, all in all, these were things that N`vek did not want or need to know.

The details, indeed.

"I... I could have gone without knowing the recipe, Ser." The not a squidboy nearly squeaked the words out. He couldn't get the image out of his head now, a tiny fat human looking thing, all roasted and dressed up with an itty bitty apple in his mouth. Though the fairy surely had not looked the slightest bit like a fairy at the time. N`vek swallowed and while he wondered just what his question had gotten him into now, he did sit back and listen to Treadwell's story. Being shrunk sounded horrifying to N`vek and some of his squid thoughts returned to his very human mind.

He, himself would quite resemble a fishing lure or bait at the size Treadwell described.

Treadwell woke up and escaped, then came home. "But... weren't you still the size of a fairy at that point?" Treadwell had said woken up and returned home, nothing about his size, unless the fairies had just shrunken Treadwell to easily spirit him away and he'd been full size whilst he slumbered. He quietted up mighty quickly once Treadwell described the disaster of home he had returned to. This was not something he felt comfortable interrupting with his own question, a little sense as the story was making. It was some time ago - long before N`vek had even been born, he should excuse and yes, even expect some missing bits and perhaps some embellishments.

The sound of Treadwell's guy was quite audible. N`vek had to (jokingly of course) remind himself, he was a guest and not some packed lunch for this voyage.

"I can imagine how that could have turned out for the fairies... although if they had the magic to shrink you, they could likely deal with an army easily enough, especially if the army lacked magic." N`v ek, like most children had grown up hearing stories about mischievous fairies and punishments they gave out. If N`vek hadn't physically seen the witch, his own predicament could have easily been blamed on fairies.

Then there was a slight detour on the subtypes of fairies and for Treadwell to catch his breath. N`vek was worried again, was telling a long story taking too much out of the old man?

The fairies grew fat from the bargain. It was confusing and alarming to the lanky boy, but he was face to face with the proof of Tubbius right across from him in the carriage. Proof that pulled out a ham. [i]Weren't they on their way for a lunch stop as it was?[i/] The story of eating a fairy had swiftly evolved into a tale of Treadwell's church.

N`vek could quite imagine the horror of the fairies when they realized they had kidnapped and ruined the life of their new found god. Truthfully though, N`vek wasn't sure he'd been following the story 100% as it was. But he was saved from further questions and reactions, they arrived at the town for their stop. Good, N`vek was getting hungry. Talk of Tubbius, Treadwell's stomach growling, and his ham hadn't helped.
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Re: Back on the Road

Postby Treadwell » Sun Mar 13, 2016 12:20 pm

"The Smoking Pipe Bar and Beds!" comes Tready's cheerful squeak as the carriage rolls to a stop and Gregory huffs his way around to side to open the door. "I should think, dear boy, that you have heard enough of my troubles with fairies, mmph, for now! We ought to go fetch some passable lunch, hm hm!" Cane is taken in hand, and hat is plumped atop head, and out the coach, a-wobble on the way, lumbers the brown-furry-robed fellow. He is assisted out of the vehicle by his old butler, both men giving much unhappy groans at the heft of his weight, but soon they both stand by the carriage, with Treadwell rubbing an aching lower back and his elderly companion offering N'vek an outstretched hand for support.

What they see around them, of course, is wood.

Fyeden is a town surrounded by trees; its people make their livings from the trees they chop and carve and fashion. The Smoking Pipe Bar and Beds is no exception, with its carefully set heavy logs that make up its walls. A stone chimney rises from the side of the tavern, some of the only rock about the place, and it currently gives a slow float of gray smoke from it. A smaller, similarly smoking extension connects in the back--apparently the kitchen. A small, nearby stable offers housing for four-legged visitors.

The road itself through the town, on which the carriage sits and the horse snuffs and Treadwell grumbles as he takes a few toddled steps, is mere dirt, of course, and hardly much of a road at that. It stretches past the buildings--homes, stores, and the lone tavern--and allows people reasonably safe passage. One muscled, red-bearded man, taller than the Lord Steward by about a foot, rolls past on his thick legs, carrying an axe in one hand and a bundled up roll of logs in the other. Two children scurry along some dozen feet behind him, a boy and a girl, both with the same red hair of their father, the boy perhaps twelve and carrying an arm load of wood as he trudges, the girl perhaps five and tagging along after with hands empty and dirt-smudged face smiling wide.

"N'vek, m'boy?" comes that familiar, aged call from the portly toymaker as he turns back to the carriage, and, while he does, the young girl slows her skipping, her eyes going wide.

And then, renewed vigor! Eyes go wide, direction changes, and, in but a few seconds, Aloisius Horatio Treadwell finds his brown, furry robe being hefted up from behind to reveal the brown coveralls he wears beneath.

From him? "Oh! What--?"

And from her? "He's no warm, Tom! He looks like--"

"Regan! Oy! Take y'ands offen 'is coat!"

Angry father, lumbering forth. Tom the twelve-year-old comes plodding behind. Robe is released, falling back about the startled Treadwell's backside and legs.

"He looks like a man-warm in Grampa Keef's book, Da. . . ." Sullen, retreating behind her father and staying well clear.

"Beg y'pardon, m'lor'. M'girl Regan--she's no sense 'bout 'er." Dark eyes and red beard turn atop a thick neck to glare at the child.

"Hrm hrm! 'Man-warm,' sir? What does the child mean by--?"

"Naught! She means naught! Silly, dumb girl's fancy! Regan, t'ome wi' Tom. Go!"

And children go a-scurry. Treadwell turns his eyes to N'vek, then to, "Gregory? Do see to Arnold and the carriage, mmph. I aim to eat here," a nod to the inn, "and, sir, I hope to know your name, hm hm?"

"Tom. Tom Lytton."

"Tom? Like your. . . son, hm?"

"Or him like me."

"Of course, mmph! I am Aloisius Treadwell, hrm, that fellow leading away the coach is my man, Gregory, mmph, and this young fellow is my dear friend--umm?"

Treadwell turns about, interrupting himself as he seeks to introduce his traveling companion, his beady eyes a-squint through his glasses. In all this commotion, he has lost his idea of just where N'vek is.
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: Back on the Road

Postby Shobits » Tue Mar 22, 2016 1:45 pm

N`vek certainly had heard more than enough of accidentally eating fairies and being shrunk and having his life ruined by rightfully disgruntled fairies. And their retroactive horror at having treated their newly acquired deity in such a manner. It was enough to make N`vek's head spin. The portly old man had certainly lead a very interesting life. Not to say N`vek's own was without its tumbles. Still, a mostly cured squidboy paled in comparison to all Treadwell had been through. But N`vek was a lot younger, just starting to be a man. Treadwell, a patriarch of his own clan with many years under his ever widening belt.

Treadwell calls for a lunch to be had at their stop, an inn N`vek had never heard of let alone been to. A lunch. The man had eaten before and during their journey, but that was how Treadwell was, N`vek should be well used to it by now. Even if he hadn't glimpsed the man's alter.

"Yes, Mr. Treadwell. I am getting hungry." A word Treadwell was simultaneously unaware and oblivious of. He took Gregory's hand and ambled his way out of the carriage.

Fyeden.

N`vek tried not to turn into full blown skittish mode and was doing well at it. After-all, he was looked human at the moment, WAS human. He'd been doing fine without letting that other side off him out. Even with spring... But back to the present. There was no need to be worried or afraid. He was old enough to be considered a man. Even if his gangly looks and wide eyes said otherwise.

Wide eyes which were taking in all the sights of the new town. Attention only broken and called back to Treadwell once his name was spoke.

"Yes, Ser?" then the little girl started up with her antics. N`vek hadn't a clue what Man-Warm meant either.

But N`vek didn't hear if Treadwell had anything to answer. In the distraction of the two children and the bustle of a town, N`vek was not there when Treadwell next looked for the boy.
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Re: Back on the Road

Postby Treadwell » Tue Mar 22, 2016 2:17 pm

"N'vek!" comes the sudden, whistled squeak from the elderly toymaker. A flurry of brown fur as he turns about with a whuff follows, and, "Mister Lytton! The young man who was with me a moment ago, mmph, did you see where he went?"

Treadwell is answered with a simple shrug of the shoulders. "Too busy watchin' m'own kids leave. He your son?"

"No!" And a flabby hand flutters, sweaty and nervous, along the great dome of his stomach. The other tightens around the handle of his walking cane. "Just. . . if you see him, mmph mmph, send him to this here inn for me? Please? You'll be paid suitably for it, hrm, if you do."

Thus, with a glance back at Arnold's leading the carriage safely to where it will rest in its stable by the inn, up the dirt street Treadwell lumbers with his rolling-waddling gait, leaving the curiosity-stricken lumberjack. Treadwell is no tracker, no ranger in the wild. Sorting out N'vek's footprints from anyone else's would be impossible. Likewise, the former squid boy is no Tubbian; if he were, Aloisius would know precisely where the child would be with but a few moments of reflection. As it is, up the street he toddles, his nervously fluttering hand taking a place near his lower back for what little added support it can offer, his beady eyes scanning and scouring and squinting desperately for his missing companion.

Shops: on one side of the street, the inn, two stores devoted to furniture, one devoted to wooden carvings and statuettes, and then a general store that, at a glance, seems to specialize in hunting and woodcutting supplies. Only the inn might be a likely place for N'vek.

A swish of robe from the old man in the middle of the street. A rumbled gurrrrrrrgle from the belly brings a shudder of squishy-squooshy, rippling pain.

The other side of the street? A small apothecary, it seems. A few houses beyond to complement the ones continuing up the road on both sides. A baker with its tempting aroma (gurrrrrrggggggle). Butcher.

But the one building within just a few feet, that he ends up looking at, that doesn't have any stairs like most of the other log-built locations here?

A tiny square location labeled "Books" above the door.

"Start there, hrm hrm! And then down the street!"

Whuffle-huffle breathing and thunder-clumping feet signal his arrival as he looks around. Before his eyes can take in any real study of the surroundings, a white-haired wisp is standing before Aloisius, a finger held to the Lord Steward's lips instead of his own, offering a hissed, "Shhhhhhh!"

Of course, wheezing huffs continue. Treadwell has been in quite the hurry traversing this mere distance of some few dozen yards.

"Y'ave t'quiet y'self in 'ere, sir! Town liberry, an' the books ain't for sale!"

"Hrmph mmph!"

Gentle swaying to right, then left, supported by cane. Eyes study the tables and their corresponding chairs. To either side are half a dozen parallel rows of books. Granted, from his position, with this fellow standing in front of him, he can only see the few books on the shelves immediately near the entrance. Light from outside glows through open windows, offering some semblance of warmth to the room.

"I am a visitor to Fyeden, sir, mmph, and I have lost a dear friend, a young boy, lanky-limbed, mmph, named N'vek. Have you--"

"Name's Keef. Quiet y'self. Ya's in a liberry, I said."
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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