Road Trip?

Re: Road Trip?

Postby Treadwell » Sat Nov 24, 2012 4:29 am

Afternoon of the twelfth, into the morning of the thirteenth.

Lunch, for this gathered group of Tubbians plus one, was a noisy, sloppy feast of devouring in the name of devotion. Afterward, the full-bellied, middle-aged and elderly men left to their separate rooms (with a trio of spare rooms in the various houses being offered to Treadwell, Alldale, and Maxwell) for a good, long nap there if desired. Snores will roll on through the tiny village; the tubby fellows will actually sleep through supper, for the most part, barring Treadwell who will get up to find himself a snack before returning to bed.

The morning of the thirteenth finds the trio and horse on the road once more after breakfast, for a largely uneventful ride that continues on until dusk on the next day.

The city of Westenford is a large, sprawling metropolis on a cliff overlooking the Sea of Amasynia. Coming slightly downhill into it after an uphill grade for most of the journey gives a decent look of the city itself: buildings residential, religious, and economic sprawl and clutter everywhere, a small river that flows eastward through town and neatly divides it into halves, and to the far side, nearer the edge of the cliff, is a flat, stone plaza surrounded by fallen stone arches and decorative columns.

The carriage is brought to a stop with a tap-tump of Tready's cane on the inside wall. That cane is then waggled out of Treadwell's side window at the various parts of the city, pointing here, bouncing there.

"Westenford is a lovely old town, dear fellow, lovely! Large and massive and old, a center of commerce! To the north, hmm hmm, is what we call the Promenade; it's where, mmph mmph, all of the rich folks live, and, thus, I know it quite, quite well. To the south of the Aeryn River, though, across the bridge and the gate on it, is the, ahem, poorer half of town, which any sensible man or woman will stay well clear of."

A clearing of the throat, and then Treadwell continues.

"The stone plaza there, on the far end, north of the river, hmm hmm? 'Armadon er Domedthron,' in the ancient local tongue everyone's forgotten about over the years! It's the central area where the Parliamentary Ruling Council--or 'Bellies' in the vernacular, hmm hmm, for obvious reasons--meets to oversee the problems and issues that the city's a-having! I've been Chief Magistrate over it all for a number of years, on and off, since I was a young, young fellow, hmm hmm, and I still command a lot of respect here for it! Around that area, you'll find most of the businesses worth anything, hmm hmm, most of 'em owned by the local council members or their families, including my daughter's former pub and, likely, the tailor shop I'm here to take care of!"

A sudden jerk of the cane toward the end of town nearer the coach, bouncing in vision across a mix of steeples and domes before settling on one particularly large, round dome central in the town. "Ahhhh! A new addition! Churches of many faiths, dear Maxwell, mmph mmph, most of 'em Tubbian, as noted by the great, big domes atop! He holds a wonderfully powerful sway here, hmm hmm, and rightly so! In a town so blessedly given to excess and gluttony and wealth--well, at least in half of it!--is it any wonder that belief in Tubbius is, hmm hmm, even stronger here than back in Myrken?"

Aloisius gives a thump on the carriage again, and, in a moment, it jerks into motion. He calls out to Mr. Alldale, driving, "To the stone plaza opposite in town, Jack, and stay clear of the south of the river for all you're worth! None of the poor folks, hmm hmm, care much for all the town magistrates and rich old butterballs who visit 'em!"
"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: Road Trip?

Postby Maxwell » Sat Nov 24, 2012 5:56 am

For the entirety of the ride, Maxwell had strained to get a word in. He wanted to comment on the architecture, on the northern climate, on the effects of a body of water on a city like this, on local flora and fauna, on certain ways to make the road plan more efficient (The Maxwell Stratagem, he called it), and of how to tell the scent of one city from another. In the end, however, old Treadwell had learned a thing or two about how to deal with the scholar, and here, with a hometown advantage, he was able to dominate the conversation.

"Well, that is.." Maxwell flailed only to get drowned out once more. The effort, for some reason, seemed to be doing him good. The longer the trip went on, the more he came out of his shell and the more his ensuing madness receeded. He even put on a few pounds, beginning to look more health once again.

Finally he clapped his hands and coughed loudly. demanding attention no matter what. "That hardly says good things about excess, Councilor." He glanced around. "Law and order is kept here? I think I might be able to hire a mercenary group and have a go at the place." Ill-tempered perhaps but he'd gone a long time listening and not talking. Maddening! He half wanted to hire some mercenaries.
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Re: Road Trip?

Postby Treadwell » Sat Nov 24, 2012 4:34 pm

Early afternoon of the thirteenth.

"Law and order are being kept perfectly well, mmph mmph! I should know! I wrote a good many of the laws about keeping order!" To the town gate the carriage rolls, pulled by that corpulent horse, Arnold, there for its occupants to wait their turn to be allowed entrance.

Soon, a red-floofy-mustached, jowly face pokes into the opened window with a "Hullo in 'ere!" as black eyes squintily study the interior and the folks within. "Chief Mag'strate Tread'ell! Ye just keep a-fattenin' up, don't ye, sir?" Then, pausing to wiggle about on his own flabby legs, the great-stomached guardsman clears his throat. "Beggin' yer pardon, good C. M. Ye be a-lookin' right hale and stout and happy in yer old age! What'll we be a-doin' fer ye today now that yer home?"

"Ooooooh, mmph mmph, free entrance and safe passage, ahem, to my house so I can find the tailor shop and home of the late Regis Drivel, Officer! The blamed fool wrote me into his will, hmm hmm, 'spite my not being here often enough to really do much about all his stuff and possessions!"

"Regis i' dead? Bless me! 'e had some busted britches o' mine set out for stitchin' up, he did! Popped ever' last seam down the arse on 'em t'weeks ago, C. M., an' he hadn't got the pair back to me yet. Guess I 'ave a good reason fer that now, eh?"

Treadwell turns briefly to Maxwell with a whuffff for breath. "You don't know a thing about running a tailor shop, do you, sir?" and then, back to the guard, "I'll get in there and make up some sense of it all! I know a little about tailoring, myself, but not terribly much--just enough to keep this old belly covered up, hmm hmm?" A hearty laugh escapes the tubby, sweaty Chief Magistrate of Westenford. "I'll tell you what I'll do. Escort me home, and then meet me at my new shop tomorrow after lunch time, mmph mmph, and we'll see what we can do about your clothing, sir!"

A nod follows from the red-mustached snout, and then, as the guard steps away from the coach, "Let 'em through! It's Chief Maggie Tread'ell, 'ere on bu'ness!" The front of the carriage shakes mightily to accomodate the guard's well-rounded girth as he huff-puffs into place next to Jack, and then the ride continues into the town, passing first the churches circling the outer rim of the city, as if to keep the sinful excesses held at bay.
"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: Road Trip?

Postby Maxwell » Mon Nov 26, 2012 6:58 am

"I am an utmost expert on seventeen known languages including three dialects of Ghreu Fenn Bog Talk. And I haven't the slightest what that peculiar crimson mustachioed man was saying." Maxwell just stared after him, as the carriage started to move on. "In such situations, with strange and potentially dangerous natives, it's best to respond accordingly." He took a deep breath and leaned out, looking back towards the guardsman, before shouting loudly and slowly. "WE COME IN PEACE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR ASSISTANCE. ASSISTANCE MEANS HELP. IT IS VERY WELL APPRECIATED. WHICH MEANS WE THANK YOU FOR IT." He finally dragged himself back in to the moving carriage. "See, I imagine that little exchange will do wonders for how we are seen around town." All smiles, young Maxwell.

"As for a Tailor Shop, while I have no actual practice in doing so, I once read a fascinating treatise on courtly clothing trends of the Trae Kelsan Aristocracy in the grand reign of..." A bump made him bite his tongue rather violently and he let out a yelp. He continued to speak on, however, despite the pain, not taking the chance to lose the initiative. "Ahnnnd I thihhhnk ihhh wihhhll beh ihhvahhhuubuhhl." He began to go into detail on how meaningful the decorative sash was, his smarting tongue adding quite a bit of color to the proceedings.
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Re: Road Trip?

Postby Treadwell » Tue Nov 27, 2012 10:36 am

Mid-afternoon on the thirteenth.

The ride through Westenford takes less time than one might think; with the guard pointing out the reasonably safe shortcuts through alleyways and crowds, Jack guides the round, elderly horse tugging the carriage easily enough. Soon enough, as requested, first to his house and then continuing just a short distance--next door, really--to the considerably smaller residence (only one floor compared to his house's two) left Treadwell in the will of the late Regis Drivel, tailor. Out of the carriage the rotund fellow hefts himself, coming down slowly on his legs and cane, back stiff and knees creaky. To that, the guard rolls out a hello.

"Thissa be-asuitin' ye, Chief Mag? Mus' be a-sayin' yer place ne'door is a little run down. Y'ain' been up here in a while, yet! I reckon ye'll want a look 'round at the property, though, an' as Regis di'n't have a wife and ne'er did sire a youngin', I figger it's all yers, clothes, movables, and all!"

As Treadwell sluggishly straightens up, rubbing his sore, throbbing back, the guardsman mumbles the rest of what he's saying, something surely detectable by younger ear's than the Councilor's. "Grant, I don' thin' none o' Regis's stuff'll fit a'tall, bless yer big belly! 'e was a fat 'un, but 'e weren't nothin' like our good C. M."

Aloisius, meanwhile, waggles an arm for Maxwell to follow, of course, fishing a massive, jangly keyring loaded heavy from his coat, and noting to Jack, "Take Arnold into the stable there behind my house, and go make yourself at home in there, Jack. Here's the front door key," worming one key free of the ring and passing it over, "and Maxwell and I will be in here! I have a bit of looking 'round, mmph mmph, to do!"

The front door unlocks easily enough, revealing a simple living room just inside, with a couch and round table to the left, a rock fireplace in the far wall, and doors to the left (beside the couch) and right (near a coat rack with a burgundy velvet cloak draped on it). A warm grin spreads jowl to jowl on Treadwell's face on the old man's seeing the cloak on the coat rack, but, pausing to ignore it for the time being, he bustles about, bending over and working to get the wood in the fireplace lit up and, after that, the two oil lamps plucked from atop it.

"Now, time for a bit of exploring, mmph mmph!"

The lamps are set aside long enough for him to pluck the cloak from where it hangs, draping it over his shoulders. Made for a man about half of Treadwell's girth, it barely covers much of his back and sits too snug everywhere it lands, but there it rests, with Aloisius beaming quite merrily.
"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: Road Trip?

Postby Maxwell » Thu Nov 29, 2012 6:19 am

To be fair, this trip was doing Maxwell good. There were flashes of memory everywhere he looked. Cities, glorious ones, ruined ones, small, large. A building would make him remember one from years past, one he had never seen but that was locked into his memory. A flash of conversation would send his mind flailing, not sure where he was or even who, but this was happening less and less, or perhaps, he was just getting better at recognizing its onset. There was an absurd regularity to Treadwell, a circular static status quo. He was a planet around which change seemed almost impossible. No matter how far one strayed, the gravity of his presence would return them to where they had begun.

And it was keeping Maxwell quite grounded. Grounded but hardly subdued. "Isn't there a conflict of interest here, Councilor?" He scrunched up his nose as he looked about. "All of this property, a thriving business, such reverence for a city in a province you have your position in. I feel the tug sometimes, as a Heathian, as I said. I work so closely with the Governor, his invaluable right hand, you know! I wonder if my own loyalty might not be sorely tested sometimes!"
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Re: Road Trip?

Postby Treadwell » Fri Nov 30, 2012 3:34 am

Mid-afternoon on the thirteenth, continued.

"Mmmm. A little small." Off comes the cloak with a spin and a flap, being put to hang back on the rack it came from. "A conflict of interests, hmm? Hardly! I don't intend to let all this, mmph mmph, get in the way of aught at all! In fact, I've a most wonderful, most curious plan for it all, hmm hmm!" With that said, and no more, Aloisius turns and, still wearing the green, yellow, and orange attire from a couple of days past, trundles away through a door, lamp in one hand and cane in the other. It leads into a simple hall, with a few doors on either side.

A merry giggle precedes his peeking through one to the left, and then, "Ooooo! Come look! Come look, dear Maxwell!" Tready toddles within, setting the lamp on a table. He stands in a room with an array of wardrobes all around, with numerous rather round mannequin bodies wearing various suits, cloaks, and robes, and one wearing a smart-looking, red-and-gold, vertically striped vest. "It seems, hee hee, that our dear Regis was not only a tailor, hmm hmm, but the plump little gent apparently fashioned his own garments!" Pudgy fingers run carefully down the sides of the vest, tugging a little here and there. "Splendid fabric, mmph mmph. He'd have been about the same height, dear boy," a glance down at his own monumental girth is followed by a slow circle of the clothes hanging on their stands, "but he's not at all fed enough! Why, I doubt I could squeeze a thigh into both of his pants legs, even though he was quite tubby himself, mmph mmph!"

A sly grin comes to the Councilor's face. "I shall have to fix this, hmm hmm!" He carefully takes up the lamp again, and, giggling still, out he goes, turning right and continuing on. Next, with a squeeeeeeeak of the door's hinges, "Do look at this bed, dear Maxwell!" A hoot of laughter shakes the great belly, the lamp is again set aside (this time on a hook by the door), and over to the floofy, pillowy bed near a matching overstuffed seat at a wide, wooden desk covered in a pair of trousers in progress Aloisius goes. Onto the bed the old man sinks, letting out a wonderfully happy, long sigh and folding his hands on his stomach, thumbs hitched under his vest.

"This is simply marvelous, hmm hmm! Maybe our exploring deserves a break--or at least mine does! I do think a good, mid-day nap is in order before supper, eh, and then something to eat, and a little time to go see the new tailoring shop? Unless," he calls back, "you've the urge to go on already and see it yourself, hmm hmm, Mister Maxwell? I'll be right here!"
"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: Road Trip?

Postby Maxwell » Mon Dec 03, 2012 2:23 am

Talking to a wall. A flubby, blustering, rubbery wall. He spoke, and the words bounced back into his face. Nothing like petulant horror to restore one to his senses. It was really just what the doctor ordered. He had a whole line of conversation that had been rebuked in the name of stroking fabric and squealing over the size of a bed and the thinness of a dead man. If one could feel one's eyes becoming more bloodshot, Maxwell would.

"I.." He snorted, coughing, flabbergasted by it all. "have my errand to tend to, in the shops of town. Let me gather my supplies. You nap well and soundly." He was still able to nasally affect the tone of a toady, even in his pique of annoyance. "And we'll meet up later today once I get things loaded."

The young man would storm out, lips pursed in constipated concentration.
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Re: Road Trip?

Postby Treadwell » Fri Dec 07, 2012 7:42 am

Night of the thirteenth.

When Maxwell does return later that night, he will find a very merry Aloisius. A monumental feast is set aside--merely for the two of them, of course--in the house's dining room, with its simple, long, wooden table and its excessively cushioned chairs. As for Treadwell himself, he immediately begins blabbering on, something about having taken a short nap before having had someone take a little time to magically alter all of the dearly departed's clothes in the house to match his own girth ("Mmph mmph!") and, by the by, does he not look wonderful wearing them? Of course, the first he had to try on was the red and gold, vertically striped vest he'd seen earlier, with its matching, long-sleeved shirt and trousers.

So, thus newly attired, while reaching for a hunk of warmed bread slathered in butter, Treadwell finally gets around to asking a much more important question. "Were you, hmm hmm, able to get everything Governor Burnie sent you here to get, mmph mmph? Did you have any problems?"
"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: Road Trip?

Postby Maxwell » Mon Dec 10, 2012 3:28 am

"Problems." The squirming young man replied with a frown. "I had a ... rather quick but quite lovely repast with a very regal family. A queen, her princesses and princesses. It went quite well indeed until one of the younger princesses had something lodged in her throat. A hairball I think." There was a slight look of mania in his eyes. "it was embarrassing to all of us, of course, but I am well trained for such eventualities. Manners and etiquette. Proper social grace." He inhaled with a sniffle. "In the end it, it was but a slight distraction and I had no problem fulfilling my mission. It shall help to overturn some of the losses," and knowing his employer, Glenn would somehow leverage the vittles to some end or another. He just played his humble part.

Humble indeed. And with a contented nod. "With my errand completed, I do think things shall be free and clear from here on in, my good, stout Councilor. Why, the rest of the trip shall be a breeze!"
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Re: Road Trip?

Postby Treadwell » Wed Dec 12, 2012 3:31 pm

Night of the thirteenth.

"Splendid! I trust we'll be seeing the food and the like packed into the carriage, or, mmph mmph, shall it be following us in its own homeward?" An arm is waved at the meal, waiting. "Enough about it! Eat, dear boy!"

Afternoon of the seventeenth.

The recent days have been no breeze for Aloisius. Constant trying on of his new clothes to find that they all fit him, now, after his aforementioned bit of magic has been one thing. Another has been a frenzied wobbling about this wealthy part of town, wearing again an old burgundy robe and fat, shiny, gold medallion about his neck (safely tucked under his floofy beard). He has been shmoozing, and studying, and eating, and drinking with many other men just like him--the town's ruling council, who have welcomed their ever-growing Chief Magistrate (a title he retains in more of an honorary status than not at the moment, given his work in Myrken Wood) with open, pudgy arms.

He has also been researching various property laws on the Westenfordian books, as well as asking about for the continued services of the mage who so miraculously resized his new wardrobe. Tready has a mission, a purpose!

He also has a nice plot of land to move a new tailor shop and spare house to in Myrken Wood. . . .

The afternoon of the seventeenth, a wobbly, tottery, overfed and overdrunk Treadwell comes toddling back up to Maxwell, wherever he might be, moving to clap an arm around the man's shoulders with a hiccup, a gurgliness of his gut, and a squeaky, "'lo again, mmph mmph! I'm ready to go home, hmm hmm! How 'bout you, m'boy?"
"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: Road Trip?

Postby Maxwell » Thu Dec 13, 2012 2:33 am

Oh the food would be following them! Far from Treadwell's grasp!

---
Maxwell has walked in and out of another man's past over the last few days. The attacks are sudden and extreme, usually leading to some sort of warped behavior. Often times, despite the breadth of the memory, the behavior itself is limited to what the scholar knows about Catch, a mimicking of reported activity. Once he had to be pulled out of a tavern for stacking chairs, for instance. Perhaps his mind could not truly process the actual behavior of those memories and it compensated by replicating what he did concretely know.

Or perhaps he was just mad.

During the rest of the time, however, lucidity was increasingly the rule. He had put on some much needed weight, unsurprisingly. Color had returned to his cheeks. Warmth to his body. His former bluster had returned in form as well and he had likely proven himself absolutely invaluable in both reviewing and loudly and irritatingly critiquing the laws Treadwell was trying to learn.

Finally, however, there was this question and the young man would nod. "Absolutely, Councilor! I rather thing Myrken is in an ill state indeed having missed us for so long!"
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Re: Road Trip?

Postby Treadwell » Fri Dec 14, 2012 7:20 am

Afternoon of the twentieth of the eleventh month.

I rather think Myrken is in an ill state for having missed us for so long!

Or, perhaps, if not Myrken, then Treadwell is in something of an ill state. Whether a result of his excesses on the seventeeth, of the horrendous sum he had to pay a magician to safely spirit his newly inherited house and shop to part of the land owned by the Tubbian Church in Myrken Wood, or of something else, the trip home to Myrken Wood has been absolutely miserable for Aloisius. He has been insufferably hot despite the chilly temperatures and rainy, muddy slogginess without on the trip back through Amasynia, and he has dealt with a constant gurgliness in the guts of general belly discomfort (though, mercifully, he has had no dreadful accidents all the while!).

And, perhaps to Maxwell's discomfort, a feverish and grumpy Aloisius has ridden in the carriage for the last day and a half wearing nothing more than his one-piece, bright yellow pajama jumper with its button-up front. His matching yellow robe, waistcoat, and trousers were tossed in a heap across to the other bench in the carriage some time around lunch of the eighteenth. Only on the return to the outskirts of Myrken Wood does the frazzled, wearied old man finally dress himself properly again, still looking an exhausted mess as they--and the carriage of food behind them--roll through town toward the meetinghouse.
"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: Road Trip?

Postby Maxwell » Thu Dec 20, 2012 1:48 am

Miserable for Aloisius! Absolutely miserable for Treadwell? What about Maxwell. Poor, besieged Maxwell. Assaulted by memories of a world he did not make. Beset by chills due to the sheer proximity of a man that so resembles a butcher. Taken by fits where he thought the clouds themselves could speak to him. One looked like his father, expressing disappointment over something he did a hundred years ago. As if he could be blamed for that! He wasn't even born yet. Nor was his father's father!

The fits and spasms were hardly as severe as when the journey began but they'd still keep Treadwell from getting any prolonged sleep, no matter what color pajamas he was wearing. Was it any surprise that upon reaching the meeting house, Maxwell would jump down, looking as if he'd kiss the ground itself. "Never in the whole vaunted history of humanity, with all of its glories and all of its tragedies has this many cursed land ever looked so welcome and full of succor!"
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