Jester's Holiday (ft. Sabrion Misele Valanche)

Jester's Holiday (ft. Sabrion Misele Valanche)

Postby jacktim » Sat Mar 31, 2007 6:13 pm

Sabrion walked out onto the desolate streets of Myrkenwood. Even the guards didn't seem to be about today. "Hmm" The bard thought to himself, "There are not enough decorations up..." Sabrion sighed, there was little the blue bard could do, he had no supplies for a job of this sort. "That'll have to be something we need to remedy, Sabrion," an unfamiliar voice said beside him. Sabrion turned to view the voice, an odd man, dressed as a harlequin jester stood beside him, in his full holiday glory. Sabrion stared the man down, "And how do you intend to do that?" The bard answered back. "I have all the necessary things with me..." The man waved a hand at large bundles situated around the bard's shop, at least he was serious....

Inside the bundles was a large assortment of items: Confetti poppers, banners, masquerade masks, hanging scrolls, and a small assortment of fireworks. The confetti poppers were tied to doorknobs, forcing anyone who opened a door to be greeted with a loud bang and a rain of confetti. Banners were spanned from one building to the next, and trees covered in hanging scrolls, lines of fire crackers, and more. Before the first rays of the sun could even dare to gaze upon Amysinia, Sabrion had prepared the town for the coming festivities.
-Fleshy, bloodfilled, homeless trees... :evil:
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Postby Treadwell » Sun Apr 01, 2007 5:31 am

Sabrion, it seems, is not the only one seeking to cause fun and mischief in Myrken Wood!

Rumor spreads quickly, particularly from the warbling voice of Jack Alldale, town crier, that "a big fat white rabbit" is out and about in Myrken Wood. Word has it that the oversized bunny walks upright, using a velvet-padded crutch for support and wearing a bright purple velvet top hat, vest, and pair of trousers. White furred feet flop along merrily despite the obvious limp and the use of the crutch. In addition, children have noted that a fluffy white ball of a tail shows through the seat of his pants, and a great poofy white beard sprouts from his face and spreads over his bosom. There is no evidence of the pipe the rabbit in question has smoked in the past. Perhaps he's abandoned that dreadful habit in favor of some other, healthier one?

Some have even noted the suspicious absence of Councilor Aloisius Treadwell. . . .
"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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Day One:

Postby jacktim » Sun Apr 01, 2007 3:31 pm

Confetti poppers expended Sabrion sat about through the midday, watching the merriment as a few of the patrons pass through in harlequin merriment. Drinking, pranking and general teasing on this the Jester's Holiday. He especially enjoyed the good natured comedy of a recent cohort of his... an unnamed jester. What a fun day it had been.
-Fleshy, bloodfilled, homeless trees... :evil:
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Postby Treadwell » Mon Apr 02, 2007 5:02 am

Monday, Jester's Holiday week.

Sightings of a great round yellow chicken in a red and yellow jester's suit abound in Myrken Wood. Sources claim the jovial excuse for supper spent much of the morning shuffling around town with a cane in one hand and a faux-bejewelled scepter in the other, playing with children and chasing them about at his own slow-wobbling gait. Small painted wooden statues of the chicken, who claims to be one "Fussen Feathers, lord of the Great Nest, the flightless fool," are also being distributed by the bird himself as gifts before he waddles away to seek out more entertaining mischief.

And, on a surely unrelated note, Tready's Toys sits closed for the 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
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Postby Treadwell » Tue Apr 03, 2007 7:27 am

Tuesday, the third, Jester's Holiday week, A.R. 207.

It is said that if one believes in something, then that something is real. People believe in their abilities, their gods, and their imaginations. To those suffering under duress brought on by phobias, what most would deem mere minor worries are indeed large and looming great. To those seeking comfort, a character of mischief and fun is very much an oasis in a desert of reality.

The wondrous beliefs of children and the fancy of an old man with a jolly side to his seemingly eternal grumpiness has power. There is one character already in town who is a jester in multicolored garb, and he exists, so why should this great flightless fool not? If one can see one jester, one joker, and then one can see another, what difference does that make to a child? A town councilor turned toymaker in his old, old age sees no reason for a distinction, and neither do any of the merry little rugrats playing and scurrying about with dances and songs and bright colored cloaks and little statues of a portly, brightly colored bird.

Neither, it seems, do fabled Spirits of Celebration. A wonderfully woven backstory of a ruler of a mythical Great Nest with happy hens for wives and royal chicks and cocks for children, a convincing and genuine personality, a decidedly fun and outlandish suit of clothing. . . and an unspoken, though heartfelt, wish for a certain sort of immortality from a toymaker. . . all add up to an invisible shifting in spiritual boundaries, to a rewriting of circumstances as some of the more jovial Spirits agree to assist--though in a way as to leave Mr. Treadwell completely normal, for once in his life.

While a costumed Aloisius Treadwell rocks in his toy store rocking chair, staying perfectly normal and remaining oblivious to anything unusual at all, in an ethereal realm invisible to mortals, a startled "Buckaw!" splits the air--the shock of appearing suddenly into being, with memories and life and age and weight and family. Then, all is well. Sitting in a nest for a throne, as cross-legged as those flabby thighs can be, with a silver scepter with real rubies and topazes for jewels, and a crown of the same, and with a silk red and yellow jester's outfit, a buttery-yellow-feathered chicken sits. Black, spherical eyes blink a few times, studying his surroundings, and a great orange beak widens in a smile.

Floppy orange feet streeetch their toes and find safe purchase amid the twigs and sticks and leaves and straw of the area called the Great Nest, and a now existent Fussen Feathers rises, giving his fluffy yellow wings flaps--testing them. There is life in all his limbs, from the swooshy-swishy state of his tail to the jaunty bounce in his steps to the jiggliness in his impossibly round stomach. This life is in resistance to nature; he has appeared in this state an old chicken, and there remains a stiffness in his limbs. But, nature be shoved aside a moment! This Spirit of Celebration and misrule has much to do before the week is out.

The first step is to let those black eyes lose their focus on his surroundings, his Great Nest, to take stock of an old man now snoring quietly in a rocking chair in another land--one called Myrken Wood. The beak slips into a smile; the toymaker's suit is an excellent likeness--or would that be the other way around? A wiggle of the ruler's tail feathers and a nod of his head lead to the disappearance of Fussen Feathers from his native land and, secretly, to his reappearance in a toy shop in Myrken Wood. A silent nod is given the snoring fellow--and a look of admiration, of gratitude--and then a great yellow chicken quietly toddles out of Treadwell's front door, peeking around at the wonderfully alien area that is Myrken Wood.
"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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The Aftermath...

Postby jacktim » Mon Apr 09, 2007 1:31 am

The small holiday was something to be remembered, Treadwell in a chicken suit, Sabrion in a harlequin outfit, confetti poppers, pit traps, and the odd gentleman that aided in the decor... Sabrion smiled at the prospect of future holidays, and what joyous events might occur, while he helped to clean up the streamer bands. "See you next year, Jester's Holiday..."
-Fleshy, bloodfilled, homeless trees... :evil:
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