Fri Dec 10, 2004 12:38 pm
OOC note: Posting this a day early because I don't know if I'll be up late enough to rp this tomorrow night on Saturday. Church Sunday morning and all, y'know.
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He'd had to insist.
Raylan Treadwell, Myrken's Mother Winter in disguise, wanted desperately to go with her husband this year. She'd said over and over that she was going to, that with his going to new places this year than he went to last that he might just get lost and need a hand getting home.
It took some coercing on Tready's part. He didn't want to risk his darling wife's safety at the hands of something out there in those darkened, monster-filled Myrken Wood trees.
So it was that the tubby old gent started out once more at the stroke of midnight in a sleigh carrying himself and his bag of toys, drawn by just one beast of burden: his fat, old, ever reliable horse of definitely mixed parentage, Arnold. This year, Father Winter was quite decked out, wearing one of his white robes with the fluffy fur trim as he rode forth into the night with a snowy white glow 'round him, his horse, and his sleigh. As he rode forward, a gentle drifting downward of snow would begin where he went. Soon, all of Myrken Wood would be blanketed in a gentle, soft, not *too* deep layer of the stuff by morning.
Two things would take him by surprise. The first of these is the combination of speed and stealth at which he found himself going, not only from house to house but also inside each. No children would see him coming, and, despite the glow about his person and sled, no one would see him going, either. Those were the result, of course, of the Elven assistance he'd received but a few short weeks earlier, when they supposedly "empowered" him one morning. There would be no run-ins with the guards the next morning, no thirty-seven counts of breaking and entering to answer for again.
The second surprise is one far more complicated. It's the world beyond Myrken Wood and Amasynia. Driven to far away lands by little more than a primal desire to be there, Treadwell would see landscapes ranging from the snow-pelted mountains of the far, far north--the region where his newly adopted Elven friends have set up a new toyshop for him, apparently--to immensely wooded regions thicker set than those in Myrken to a smooth, soothing ride along the downright chilly coast of eastern New Dauntless.
On the whole, the trip would go surprisingly well. As he'd hoped, Father Winter would find nothing attempting to block his progress; no fighting would be required on his part this sacred night. So it is that, come the morning of Sunday the thirteenth, when children all 'round the region and beyond would be discovering the treasures brought them through the night, the tuckered out old fellow would find himself back in bed after taking the time to feed, care for, and house his horse.
Sat Dec 11, 2004 11:48 am
As always, this elf had been in the right place at the wrong moment. As Treadwell made way to take off with his sleigh and bag of toys, the elf had looked and noted the man speeding off to unknown ventures. A blink of surprise made as violet hues watched him disappear into the horizon. She had known he harbored a secret, but was unsure of what till now. She had sensed a magical air about the old man, but could not place it till she had seen with her own eyes.
A soft smile rose upon her lips. She would confront Treadwell the next time she sees him. With hesitant steps, the elf turned back down the path and back towards the hovel she called home.