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| − | OOC NOTE: This bio piece is written in character, as told by Tready himself. One thing to remember is that this backstory is, in many ways, filled with a number of half-truths--completely credible background details made from the imaginations of [[Richard Aengus]], [[Benjamin Lucas Octavius Augustine Treadwell|Octavius Treadwell]], and various fairy advisors during [[Richard Aengus|Richard]]'s reign some sixty-one to sixty-five years past. For a more truthful, out of character trove of information on this same person and his current status, see the article on [[Richard Aengus]].
| + | Aloisius Horatio Treadwell, aged sixty, has led one of the most confusing lives of any of [[Myrken Wood]]'s patrons, temporary or permanent. His time in Myrken Wood began approximately three years ago when he left his birthplace of [[Westenford]], [[Amasynia]], and it all started with his secretly impersonating dead governor [[Gad Phuri]] shortly after his arrival. As deception turned to truth, and after Treadwell was freed from a brief stay in the town jail, he found his calling in Myrken to be the same as it was back home. |
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| | + | Treadwell entered Myrken Wood politics. He was already well entrenched in politics from his time at home. Being the son of [[Benjamin Lucas Octavius Augustine Treadwell|Octavius Treadwell]], the former [[Chief Magistrate]] of Westenford, Aloisius was able to weasel his way into politics there, beginning as a mere Clerk of Court and working his way to hold the same vaunted position as his father. In Myrken Wood, Aloisius used his brash, forceful personality to work his way into the post of [[Councilor of Administrative Sanctions]] for around a year before his disappearance. |
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| + | From the end of A.R. 205 and well into October of A.R. 206, a man claiming to be Treadwell reappeared in Myrken Wood; that man was [[Richard Aengus]], fairy king of [[New Hibera]]. In short order, the revelation that Treadwell was supposedly a fairy from the very beginning caused the Myrken Council to lay claim on his house and to the toy shop he had inherited from [[Roderic Cliché]], claiming that a fictitious entity, a disguise for a visiting fairy king, could have never held them. It also led to his wife [[Raylan Treadwell|Raylan]] taking their infant children, [[Nicholas Treadwell|Nicholas]] and [[Arella Treadwell|Arella]] and leaving Myrken Wood. |
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| | + | In October, A.R. 206, a very much human, life-sized, and angry Aloisius Treadwell was teleported back into Myrken Wood, claiming vehemently that he had been held as a sleeping prisoner, a victim of daily concentrated doses of Fairy Dust, as punishment for eating a roasted fairy during a meeting of the Westenford Ruling Council. |
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| − | Dear me. You wish to know about '''Aloisius Horatio Treadwell'''? Of all the things you had to ask! Why in tarnation would you ever want to know anything about lazy, foolish old me? Honestly, mmph mmph, there isn't that much to say, I'm afraid--dreadfully dull story, starting, mmmmm, perhaps back in childhood, some fifty-something years past. I'm sixty, now, so, well, I can't rightly start with the day I was born, could I? Besides, there's nothing to say about that. Terribly hard labor for my mother--she was an older, rounder lady, and, well, I came out looking a bit like I do now. But, mmph, enough of that, hmm hmm?
| + | Treadwell currently seeks, in some fashion or another, the chance to return this ruinous favor on the fairy king. "Let me squash the fat purple bug" has crossed the former Councilor's lips on numerous occasions. |
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| − | You see, Aloisius Treadwell wasn't the firstborn of his family by any stretch! No, that falls to my dear, darling, very much skinnier to the point of being downright gaunt, sister [[Elizia Treadwell|Elizia]]. Granted, she's only a handful of years older--some two or three, p'raps, hardly a much older lady by any means. Either way, I came along a bit after she did, and, well, let's just say that at seeing a baby boy bounce out of his mother at birth, a formerly disappointed [[Benjamin Lucas Octavius Augustine Treadwell]] became quite the pleased portly politically-minded poppa! Growing up--and out, yes, there's not been a thin Treadwell apart from Elizia in a good many years--happened in very short order, and that's how things went until I was, mmmm, old enough to go out and about on my own for a bit.
| + | Otherwise, Treadwell's life has been littered with problems--some familial and some magical. From the re-emergence of his sister [[Elizia Treadwell|Elizia]] to his first divorce from his wife [[Blanche Treadwell|Blanche]] the disappearance of his daughter [[Babette Treadwell|Babette]], to the above trickery played on him by Richard, Treadwell has led a life that has occasionally had him wondering his place as man and father. In addition, this onetime actor turned politician turned toymaker has held, like Roderic Cliché before him, a fleeting, temporary place as Myken Wood's own mythical persona of snow and jolliness, [[Father Winter]]. At the moment, Treadwell seems to relish the decadence and gluttony in which he lives out the rest of his mortal years, unhampered and untouched by magic. |
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| − | When you're my size, about your only choices for work are in cooking or in playing on a stage. I ended up doing both, serving as the cook for a local group of traveling actors. I never said I was a wonderful player, mind you, but I was at least a competent one. It kept food in the belly on a regular enough basis. I was doing all this when I was, ohhh, maybe between sixteen and my early twenties.
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| − | Why was I doing all of this in the first place? It's simple. My father insisted I get off my lard-laden rump and go do something if I were to earn any sort of inheritance off him! Now, granted, he looked then about like I look now, and my work on the stage didn't last terribly long--not after that, erm, incident with the rotten planks on the stage outside town. Either way, I arrived home in short order, and he didn't live very long, I'm sad to say. Poor chap flopped over in court one afternoon, reeking of sweat, flushed all over, and complaining of his chest a-hurting him. Terrible. Mmph. Have to say I've been that way myself once. Well, err, where was I? Oh! Since Elizia was reportedly missing, hmm hmm, that left her dear old brother Aloisius to take his share of the family inheritance--the majority, of course--and to settle quite comfily into his loving father's political position of Court Clerk in [[Westenford]], [[Amasynia]]--err, a fairly small town out there on the coast of Fisherman's Bay, mmph.
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| − | So there I was, taking care of my mother with my newfound wealth--and quite a bit of wealth, too. [[Benjamin Lucas Octavius Augustine Treadwell|Octavius Treadwell]] was quite an important man in Westenford, and he was also the biggest, so most folks in town knew what to expect from his son, and that meant pleasing and pampering the town's newest court clerk who was well on his way to being a judge! Soon enough, though, I was alone; my mother passed, and that left me in search of a wife. That's about when [[Blanche Treadwell|Blanche]] entered the scene. I was, ohhhh, perhaps twenty-five, twenty-six, or so. I was, well, smitten. Immediately. She, sadly, wasn't. . . . But, I persevered. We courted for quite some time, and it ended up with the two of us being married at her parents' insistence. Her family was wealthy, too, so it seemed like a good match. Within a few years, [[Babette Treadwell|Babette]] was born. I was ecstatic. Blanche. . . .
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| − | I gave Babette the best of everything growing up. In fact, she still has her own tavern in Westenford that she runs--just a little something to give her some money. The next thirty years went by quickly enough. I stayed in politics and quickly worked from the rather nice position I then held all the way to the town's [[Chief Magistrate]], holding that post for a good many years. Wonderfully pleasant experience.
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| − | And then I came to [[Myrken Wood]].
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| − | It wasn't quite the noblest of beginnings, no, showing up nicely drunk at a get-together to which I certainly wasn't invited. That, though, is where I bumped into--quite literally--[[Gad Phuri]], then [[governor]] and the only other man besides my father and perhaps [[Pritchard]] who could feasibly come anywhere close to matching me in the waist. We started up some reasonable little business between ourselves, and then Gad had to go off and do something foolish.
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| − | He dropped down dead, mmph mmph! Well, in all honesty, someone upped and killed the poor fat fool. Dreadful shame. What's even worse is that someone--one Councilor [[Giscard Guillaume]] by name!--had this foolish notion of secretly turning me into the man's replacement! Well, seeing as I wanted rather far from [[Blanche Treadwell|Blanche Sinclair Treadwell]] at the time, and I was getting cozy enough sitting here, well, I took the job! And, well, I ran [[Myrken Wood]] nicely enough for a couple of months or so, and then I ended up in jail a few nights for it. Mmph. Terrible. At least I was made the town's tax collector--pardon me, "[[Councilor of Administrative Sanctions]]"--for the trouble.
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| − | The rest of it all since then hasn't been dreadfully elaborate. Blanche left me for our butler--mmph! I do hope the bumbling blunderhead gets what he deserves from her!--and Babette's moved to Myrken. Right now, she's staying with some lord on the outskirts of town, mmph! For shame! In the meanwhile, I've settled down here nicely enough--always getting a little rounder and a little jollier--taken up a new wife, my darling [[Raylan Treadwell|Raylan]], fathered two children with her, our wonderful little [[Nicholas Treadwell|Nicholas]] and [[Arella Treadwell|Arella]], and long since taken up an [[Roderic Cliché|old friend's]] toymaking business. Speaking of such, I think I should rather be returning to my store. It's right over yonder, you see, hmm hmm, and, well, I've a few more animals to stuff and dolls to carve before I can go find something for supper! Good day, hmm hmm!
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Aloisius Horatio Treadwell, aged sixty, has led one of the most confusing lives of any of Myrken Wood's patrons, temporary or permanent. His time in Myrken Wood began approximately three years ago when he left his birthplace of Westenford, Amasynia, and it all started with his secretly impersonating dead governor Gad Phuri shortly after his arrival. As deception turned to truth, and after Treadwell was freed from a brief stay in the town jail, he found his calling in Myrken to be the same as it was back home.
Treadwell entered Myrken Wood politics. He was already well entrenched in politics from his time at home. Being the son of Octavius Treadwell, the former Chief Magistrate of Westenford, Aloisius was able to weasel his way into politics there, beginning as a mere Clerk of Court and working his way to hold the same vaunted position as his father. In Myrken Wood, Aloisius used his brash, forceful personality to work his way into the post of Councilor of Administrative Sanctions for around a year before his disappearance.
From the end of A.R. 205 and well into October of A.R. 206, a man claiming to be Treadwell reappeared in Myrken Wood; that man was Richard Aengus, fairy king of New Hibera. In short order, the revelation that Treadwell was supposedly a fairy from the very beginning caused the Myrken Council to lay claim on his house and to the toy shop he had inherited from Roderic Cliché, claiming that a fictitious entity, a disguise for a visiting fairy king, could have never held them. It also led to his wife Raylan taking their infant children, Nicholas and Arella and leaving Myrken Wood.
In October, A.R. 206, a very much human, life-sized, and angry Aloisius Treadwell was teleported back into Myrken Wood, claiming vehemently that he had been held as a sleeping prisoner, a victim of daily concentrated doses of Fairy Dust, as punishment for eating a roasted fairy during a meeting of the Westenford Ruling Council.
Treadwell currently seeks, in some fashion or another, the chance to return this ruinous favor on the fairy king. "Let me squash the fat purple bug" has crossed the former Councilor's lips on numerous occasions.
Otherwise, Treadwell's life has been littered with problems--some familial and some magical. From the re-emergence of his sister Elizia to his first divorce from his wife Blanche the disappearance of his daughter Babette, to the above trickery played on him by Richard, Treadwell has led a life that has occasionally had him wondering his place as man and father. In addition, this onetime actor turned politician turned toymaker has held, like Roderic Cliché before him, a fleeting, temporary place as Myken Wood's own mythical persona of snow and jolliness, Father Winter. At the moment, Treadwell seems to relish the decadence and gluttony in which he lives out the rest of his mortal years, unhampered and untouched by magic.
