The forest manor

[Harlequin]

-Pardon the short manner of this post. Rushed with RL stuff, but wanted to at least get this up before I left for the weekend.-

Therus was rather happy with his work,and the look on his face was one of unmitigated satisfaction. He'd found a patch of woods, holding only trees but near the road that lead to the tavern, and decided since it was useless and unused, he'd just place his home there.

No loud crashing construction for him, and no crews of peasant labor. Too noisy and unreliable, all of those... no, instead he felled the trees,and used a few simple spells to craft himself some workers that were far better at recieving orders. With his magick working alongside of them, the golems made fast time upon the work, and by the evening of last night he had a large manor built, rising above the treetops. Furniature was called out of nothingness, and other small details, and at the end of it all, stood his new home. Granted he'd never purchased the land, nor informed anyone, but those small concerns were not things that even occured to him. In fact, now, the only concern he had? Was getting drunk.

[Treadwell]

And, as of the morning of the 10th of August, Aloisius Treadwell has already confronted the man in the bar about the manor. He'll be going to see the new house soon enough, in keeping with his tax collecting role. . . but something about there being golems and magic worries the old tub.

Then again, anything with magic worries him. Fairies putting him to sleep and taking his place, golems, wizards bumblingly turning him into a man-sized bumblebee, elves turning him into a symbol of yuletide merriment for two years, a draggawuu turning him into a pig, or even doctors.

Hmph.

Why can't people all be nonmagical and sensible?