Examining the Toy Store

Examining the Toy Store

Postby Treadwell » Wed Jan 03, 2007 6:06 pm

The heavy brass key still fit the door lock to Tready's Toys. The door itself, though, had warped some in the almost year and a half of disuse. It took a good heft of Treadwellian weight to shove it open.

That's when the sneezing started. Dust goodness knows how thick had accumulated in the last fifteen or sixteen months.

The oversized rocker by the fireplace was Aloisius Treadwell's first destination. It still fit. . . mostly. It creeeeaked some. It was layered in dust. But it was still comfy.

Beady eyes tried to take in everything around old Treadwell this afternoon; Helstone had given him back the keys to his lakeside cabin and his toy shop in the middle of town, for the small price of officially severing economic and political ties to Westenford. It was small, indeed, as it had largely been taken care of already. This was merely a chance to get it all in writing among Myrken records.

So Treadwell just sat there until dusk. In some ways, though he'd been away from making toys en masse for some time, it was heart rending to sit in the toy store and see unused, unappreciated goods that were still perfectly good despite needing a good cleaning.

So he sat.

On getting up, it was to light a lamp in the window of the shop and to lock the front door. The first chore was the obvious one, as an odor both stale and rotten reeked from the kitchen. The kitchen window was soon opened as wide as possible, its stuck wooden shutters being thrown open as poor Treadwell found himself gagging horridly. Ruined food--basically everything from the kitchen stores save a bit of wine in a barrel--was taken outside and tossed out back of the shop.

Other doors were forcibly opened, too. First, from the kitchen going to the right into the bathroom. Treadwell's massive bronze tub with its purple silk lining was intact and unused--and dusty. That would need a great bit of loving care taken to avoid damaging it. Well, Treadwell thought, that was what his new servants at his new mansion estate were for! Second, from the bathroom into the bedroom.

The bedroom was, like the rest of the place, largely untouched. Dust blanketed the great, thick, fluffy, red and green plaid comforter. The bed itself was, surprisingly, still intact, able to hold up the portly Councilor's great bulk. A look under the bed revealed a book--to be examined a little later, when time permitted, perhaps the morning!--and a long since missing pipe. On top of the nearby night stand lay a candle, half melted, and flint and steel to get it lit. On the wall over that night stand hung, by a nail, a great, broad, leather belt jingling and gleaming with chisels, hammers, knives of various lengths and thicknesses and cutting edges, and pouches of nails and buttons and needles and thread of varied colors.

The holes in the belt, sadly, proved to be for a waist more than a few inches smaller. Living perhaps a bit too well in the past months was the sole cause of that, of course, since the majority of his time away had been spent magically suspended, asleep in a fairy cave. A new hole was chiseled through the belt at about the right spot--there had been a good bit of overlap in its leathery length in case something like this had happened--and with a grunt from its owner, a satisfied and happy grunt for once, Treadwell buckled it around his middle for the first time in what felt like ages. With that belt of tools in place, all was right with the world.

Now if only the clothes in the wardrobe could be so easily altered. The only things in the building that still remotely fit poor Treadwell were a handful of shirts and his old Mister Hoppy suit. The big white bunny in the purple vest and trousers still fit due to a simple enchantment placed on it when it was made. The suit stretched to fit, and in that respect, it would still be quite comfy to wear--perhaps even more so than the big black suit the Councilor currently had on.

Mr. Hoppy was thus hung up on his own rack just inside the back door to Treadwell's bedroom. Anyone trying to enter through that--admittedly locked--entrance would be in for a wonderful surprise. The wardrobe was left open to be fooled with later. Removing the tool belt long enough to change clothes, Treadwell changed into a simple white, long-sleeved shirt, wriggled into a pair of too-tight brown trousers, and worked a pair of accompanying brown suspenders over his shoulders.

He had work to do and dust to clean! Come tomorrow--or maybe the day after--Tready's Toys would be back open for business!
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
User avatar
Treadwell
Member
 
Posts: 2079
Joined: Sun Mar 16, 2003 5:00 am
Location: NC, USA

Postby Hope » Thu Jan 04, 2007 1:53 am

Poor Treadwell.

When he had left there had been little in the way of competion for his shop. Things change, though, as time is reluctant to hold things still for anyone. There was a man, a foreign man, who has set up his own shop: Maeda Ken'ichi. Ken'ichi, the former tavern guard -the once samurai who had a fondness for working with his hands.

It was not simply a toy store. It was a treasure trove of wood works. There were beautiful furniture pieces with his signature touch of carved designs upon them but also were there shelves of toys. This was a skill learned in his younger years, creating toys to amuse a younger sister and those left behind for a not yet born son that he would not see again until he was two.

These were also made of wood, beautiful women and stoic soldiers. They were not only created in the fashion of his homeland but also of the people that he has observed here. It was not strange for someone to stumble upon the shop and marvel how this figure looked like this person, that this one reminded them of another.

They were different. They were exotic. They sold well ... Especially upon Winter Solstice with the lack of Treadwell's own toys.

There were dolls too. Beautifully carved faces, such delicate looking hands ... Soft bodies sewn of fabric and fluff by the very hands of this man's sister, Midori. Raw silk was used for their clothing and ... by rumor it is said that Elil had been seen helping the man by painting some of these lovely treasures.
Failure lies not in falling down, but in not getting up.
User avatar
Hope
Member
 
Posts: 91
Joined: Thu Jul 20, 2006 12:43 pm

At long last, a sale!

Postby Treadwell » Mon Jan 08, 2007 1:38 pm

This morning found Aloisius Treadwell opening the front door of the toy shop, shuffling inside it to the back bedroom, and changing into a big brown fur-lined robe and matching floofy-fluffy cap brought from his new mansion estate. On the outside of the robe in question was soon buckled his big brown belt of tools for making toys, and, so jingling-jangling along, he went back to the front door to put up a lavishly carved sign reading a single word.

OPEN!

The door was gently closed--the weather outside being too cold for him to leave it open. Thus, he busied himself puttering about the shop, working on toys, reviewing sketches left around by the newly apprenticed Samariah, and enjoying a few good meals before a warm fire. A few, yes, as the kitchen had been restocked these last few days. The clothes in the back bedroom in the store, too, were also slowly being altered by his newly hired servants as best as they could be to try to fit him again. So far, everything was going quite well.

So, of course, no one showed up for most of the day.

It was nearing dusk, when Treadwell usually shut up the shop, that a few knocks at the door caught his attention. So, picking himself up, the toymaker-councilor opened the door to reveal a nearly middle-aged gent with reasonably warm clothes and a hat to tip and a perky, familiar, town crier voice.

"G'evenin', Counc'lor Tread'ell! Wonderin' if I might come in a bit!"

The scrawny man's accent had worsened over this long time of the two men not seeing each other, but there, before Treadwell, was. . . .

"Town crier Jack Alldale! What brings you by, hmm hmm? It's been, mmmm, right at a couple of years or so since you've bothered poking your head in here!" That said, Treadwell found himself stepping back to let the fellow inside.

"Well, Counc'lor, if you'll pardon, 't ain't been open for business, y'see. I'd still like to get m'boy--Lil' Jack, y'know--som'ing now 'at you're open for sellin' again."

"Good good! Have a look around!"

Feet stomped snow off their boot soles, and into the room came a man slight and curious. A few moments later, Jack Alldale was busily moving around the shop. A few moments after that, he was awkwardly stumbling outside, his arms carrying two big stuffed bears--for children next door, he said--atop a sled he said would be perfect for his boy with the snow that remained.

Treadwell found himself smiling as the man left. Tready's Toys might sell toys that are largely old fashioned, toys that might not be the most exotic things in the world, but they get the job done!
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
User avatar
Treadwell
Member
 
Posts: 2079
Joined: Sun Mar 16, 2003 5:00 am
Location: NC, USA

Postby jacktim » Mon Jan 08, 2007 3:14 pm

Mostly disreguarded for a time, Sabrion had attempted to drop off a small article of his at the old shop. Finally through a near week of being forgetful, he finally brought himself to finish his work. He crossed over the small section of town that separated "Treadwell's Toy Shop" from "Sabrion's Armory" and laid a moderately sized package down against the door. He gave a light cough, knocked on the door and ran.

A small package, wrapped in a a dark cloth sat against the door, a small note on top of it read:

"Welcome back Sir Treadwell, here is a measure of good faith and well wishing for you and your business."

To which was politely signed, "A friend."

Inside the councilor would find, a small steel shield made into a sign, that read, "Treadwell's Toy Shop", the crest of which bore a rocking horse, and a wooden mallet.

"I hope he likes it," Sabrion said, hidden behind the far walls of his own shop.
-Fleshy, bloodfilled, homeless trees... :evil:
User avatar
jacktim
Member
 
Posts: 164
Joined: Thu Nov 02, 2006 8:00 am
Location: Wouldn't you like to know?

Postby Treadwell » Mon Jan 08, 2007 3:55 pm

A knock at the door would have been enough to get Treadwell's attention, but Treadwell's finding no one out there in time would mean a bit of grouchiness and grumpiness.

Then the small steel shield would slide down and land soundly on Tready's foot. That would work!

Soon enough, a still grouchy, still grumbly Treadwell would be hauling the shield inside and shutting the door. The limp back to the rocking chair by the fire would be a bit more pronounced, but in moments, he was inspecting the shield in question with squinty eyes and an appreciative, "Oooooooooh!"

The rest of the evening would be spent at his shop, trying to stay off a fairly sore right foot.
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
User avatar
Treadwell
Member
 
Posts: 2079
Joined: Sun Mar 16, 2003 5:00 am
Location: NC, USA

Postby Pipkin » Tue Jan 09, 2007 6:19 am

It was a simple morning walk. A stroll around town as the sun had just creeped over the horizon. Elil loved to go outside when the sky was orange, and the sunlight, not so harsh.

This day, however, she stopped in the middle of the road..eyes peering at the large toy shop with the elaborate 'OPEN' sign posted in the window. Arms crossed over her chest to ward off the cold, her shoulders gave a small shiver at the sight as lips pulled downwards into a tight frown.

Oh, the money her family had made over Yuletide. The customers who thanked them kindly for selling toys while Treadwell was no longer open. It was a thought..one that hounded her mind as she wondered how many of them would return to the fat man with their coin.

When Elil stepped over the threshold of Ken`Ichi's wood working shop..her sandals placed outside at the door..words rang from her lips, spoken outloud, but nearly muttered in her own language to the stoic man who would be her husband.

"Treadwell-san re-opened his Toy shop...."
Even a single lamp dispels the Darkness.
User avatar
Pipkin
Member
 
Posts: 247
Joined: Sun Mar 02, 2003 5:00 am
Location: Deep within the bowels of the mighty Sperm Whale

Stricken!

Postby Treadwell » Thu Jan 11, 2007 4:44 pm

"Oh goo'ness! Y' say y'seen him yerself, boy, when y'peeked in 'is shop 'is mornin'?"

The date is the morning of Friday the 12th. The time is shortly after dawn. A frantic, breathless runner for the town criers--one Billy by name--has just finished telling his boss, one Jack Alldale by name, a simple fact.

"Misser Tread'ell's lookin' downright sick, like he's 'bout half t'die! Go an' see yerself!"

That was motivation enough for the ever faithful Jack to leave his post and scurry to the toy shop, quite nearly barging his way in to find a weak, weary Treadwell being spoon-fed soup a slurp at a time by one of the man's newest estate servants who, as orders would have it, would have been intending to merely check in on his master this morning.

Information is gleaned straight from the source soon enough, well wishes are given, and soon Jack is soon back on his way to his post to fill in the rest of the town with his warbling accent.

"Counc'lor Tread'ell foun' ill in 'is toy shop some time las' night or 'is mornin'! 'e says it was his heart, but 'e's getting better!"

There would be a pause, a chuckle, and then a very typical addition by this particular crier.

"Get-well gifts can be made to 'im in person at 'is shop! Food or money only, 'cause we all know tha's wha' makes ol' Tready feel the bes'!"
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
User avatar
Treadwell
Member
 
Posts: 2079
Joined: Sun Mar 16, 2003 5:00 am
Location: NC, USA

Shadows

Postby `Bishop » Thu Jan 11, 2007 5:25 pm

The dark figure hovered over the platinum basin, peering at the image of a pathetic, fat human being nursed back to some semblance of health by one of his servants. The sight disgusted him and he hated the fact that he was commanded to watch over this wretch and ensure that no harm came to him. There was so much more uses that he could perform! His talents were being wasted.

Just he thought that the door to his chambers opened and his superior entered.

The dark elf, dressed in a flowing black cloak and robes, swept across the room and peered over his subordinate's shoulder. Unlike other male drow, this one kept his hair cut short and styled it in a way many called 'human'. The first drow thought it made his superior look gaudy, even foolish. Though, he didn't inform him of that.

"How is our friend, hm?" asked the second dark elf, studying the image of the large human appearing still quite sickly in the basin.

"Ill but well fed, I would surmise, since this is his third meal of the day," replied the first drow, a sarcastic hint in his voice.

"He's a man who enjoys that which life offers him," replied the second. "I don't see how we could fault him when we, ourselves, do."

"Yes, but in moderation," argued the first.

"I would hardly agree with that assessment considering the number of times you visit the brothels in the city," replied the second, an amused grin coming to his face.

The first drow merely scowled and looked away. Of course he knew he was being watched everytime he left the caverns of the Clawrift, but he didn't like the fact his whereabouts were known flaunted before him.

"So, why are we bothering with this pathetic human anyhow? Would it not be easier to simply slaughter the wretch in his sleep and assume his identity?" asked the first, curious about this menial task given to him and the motives behind it.

The second merely chuckled quietly. "Yes, you would believe that. Which is why you're hunched over this scrying basin and I am making the decisions." Though, quick to soothe his companion's bruised ego, he laid a hand on his shoulder and gave a firm pat. "Rest assured, we will gain from this, my friend. Your work is important, even if it isn't apparent now. Have I ever let you or anyone else in our merry little band down?"

A pause was given, if only to give his superior something to consider, though when the second answered, it was truthfully. "No."

"And I shall not fail us now," declared the second confidently and swept his hand from the other drow's shoulder as he turned to leave the chamber.

"What of Faeryl and her plans for this place?" asked the first, the idea suddenly coming to him.

That didn't even slow the second's stride to the door and he only gave a laugh when he reached the door, half turning in the threshold. "Her fanatic quest will burn itself out, as do all such ventures of a zealot. Religion will get one only so far, my friend. Remember that."

And with a wink he was gone, leaving the first drow alone with his basin containing the image of the sick fat man and some lingering doubts.
`Bishop
Member
 
Posts: 35
Joined: Mon Apr 10, 2006 1:39 pm

As Luck would have it other eyes were watching

Postby Sherazade » Fri Jan 12, 2007 9:24 am

Hand itched, wanted to go to the knife she still wore out of habit as she watched the drow with her new employer, Honey amber gaze was glitning with fury... she hated them she really did dirty dark skinned murderers the lot of them, none of them could be trusted not ever. Anger kept her frozen hidden in the shadows, the only surviving half breed forest elf from a tiny villiage that the drow wiped out of existance.. well they paid all of them and so would any other drow that stepped out of line. Just as well for this one that he helped treadwell otherwise... Lips curved up into a dark smile she had not worn in well over a year allowing Sam to keep her anger from prompting her into foolish action.
Words of wisdom for life

Sleep i forget what that is *laughs*
Sherazade
Member
 
Posts: 315
Joined: Sun Aug 31, 2003 9:01 am
Location: New Zealand

Postby jacktim » Fri Jan 12, 2007 8:21 pm

Sabrion had waited outside the door to Treadwell's mansion for nealry thirty minutes, waiting for the staff to make sure Treadwell was still well enough to *receive visitors*. When he walked into the room he had seen that the taxcollecter had fallen unconscious again. He laid his payment for his own shop down on the nightstand nearby, "Get well, sir," Sabrion said as he exited.
-Fleshy, bloodfilled, homeless trees... :evil:
User avatar
jacktim
Member
 
Posts: 164
Joined: Thu Nov 02, 2006 8:00 am
Location: Wouldn't you like to know?

A New toy and New idea

Postby Sherazade » Sun Feb 18, 2007 7:01 am

It had been an upsetting day for Sam, the sighting of the Drow, had stirred up memories , dragged forth emotions, she would much prefer stayed buried. After all she'd spent 7 years training for then tracking down every drow that had mascared those in her village, granted the last few had been killed by others but still they were dead. It was over . why couldnt the memories leave her be.

A sigh left her lips as she carefully lay atlias the puppet into a box, oh so careful not to tangle the strings and set him in the window so those passing in daylight could see him. In was as she was turning away that she spied the fat bumblebee, intrigued she picked him up and discover his fce was that of her employer, soft laughter bubbled from sam's lips as an idea finally chased away ghostly memories and saddness. now this would make a wonderful wooden tooy and settling into a chair parchment and charcol were reached for as her mind began to race with ideas.
Words of wisdom for life

Sleep i forget what that is *laughs*
Sherazade
Member
 
Posts: 315
Joined: Sun Aug 31, 2003 9:01 am
Location: New Zealand

Postby Treadwell » Mon Feb 19, 2007 8:06 am

It's rare that Aloisius Treadwell stands in one spot very long. He tends to ease into a chair or onto a couch in no time at all. However, the occasional passer-by of the toy shop might just have to do a double take through one of the windows. Tready, it seems at first, hasn't moved all day, leaning against the fireplace. Or hasn't he?

In what might be his greatest act of toymaking yet, Councilor Treadwell has made a life-sized, rather detailed stuffed doll of himself, for decoration. It wears one of his spare long-sleeved white shirts with brown trousers and suspenders pulled up over those poofy arms, and it takes up just as much space as he does at the moment with its excessive stuffing and fluff. There's even a little of a rarely seen smile on its round face, peeking through the poofy white beard.

Maybe this oversized doll will have a practical use some day?
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
User avatar
Treadwell
Member
 
Posts: 2079
Joined: Sun Mar 16, 2003 5:00 am
Location: NC, USA

Postby jacktim » Fri Feb 23, 2007 3:51 pm

It has been a long while since the blue bard had happened by the toy store. Many busy days keeping him from seeing the tax collector and his wares. Today Sabrion found himself to be in a particular lack of work so he strolled down the street a ways and walked inside. He began to admire all the toys, even pausing for a moment to look at the large Tready-doll. "That ol' sod's done it again...", Sabrion chuckles softly poking the nose of fake-Treadwell.
-Fleshy, bloodfilled, homeless trees... :evil:
User avatar
jacktim
Member
 
Posts: 164
Joined: Thu Nov 02, 2006 8:00 am
Location: Wouldn't you like to know?

Postby Treadwell » Fri Feb 23, 2007 4:47 pm

"Mmph! Yes, it *is* a charming one, isn't it, mmph mmph?" Spoken by a tipsy, tottery Treadwell. It's Friday, the middle of the day, or thereabouts, and he's recently come home from a session of gorging at the Dagger. The portly old fellow hasn't even bothered to change out of the red suit he's wearing into clothing a little more appropriate to being in the toy shop, such as what the stuffed Tready-doll wears. But, there he is, coming out of the back rooms with a massive sandwich in one hand and a mug of something that could only be beer in the other.

"What can ol' Treadwell help you with, hmm hmm?" he asks as belly meets countertop on the far left of the room. Teeth close hungrily around the sandwich, despite visible evidence of his being much too full already (namely, a roll of his belly visible over his red cummerbund through a partly unbuttoned shirt). Does he not have any shame?
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
User avatar
Treadwell
Member
 
Posts: 2079
Joined: Sun Mar 16, 2003 5:00 am
Location: NC, USA

A face in the Window

Postby Sherazade » Thu Mar 01, 2007 9:23 am

It had taken several long days for Sam to recover from the consequences of healing mister Treadwell, and yet as difficult as it had been she did not regret it. How could she? For now her parents faces were as bright in her mind as they had ever been and she had made new friends... The blue bard Sabrion who had seemed so concerned and tended her when she had first fallen after the healing, and one who had helped ease the pain in her heart the curious cat-girl.

A smile curved Sam's lips as she moved around inside the toy shop it was time to place the brightly painted tready bee in the window and see what comments it wrought. In fact she placed it right beside the puppet who was a perfect replica of Atlias Bromn.
Words of wisdom for life

Sleep i forget what that is *laughs*
Sherazade
Member
 
Posts: 315
Joined: Sun Aug 31, 2003 9:01 am
Location: New Zealand

Next

Return to Downtown Myrkentown



Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest

cron