Gad's Pulled It Off

[Treadwell]

The town crier blinked a few times at the message he'd received moments before. A cruel joke? What woman could *want* to love *that* man?

But, there it was, in the Governor's own sloppy script--a hastily written note in blotted letters.

"After mourning the (previously unannounced) death of my wife Hebecka a little over a month ago from a sudden illness, I've found a young lady to be the next Mrs. Gad Phuri. Her name is Violet Smithwell; we were married in a late-night ceremony here in Myrken Wood at what will remain (for the moment) an undisclosed church. Witnesses were Lieutenants Dvorak and Estefan of the Order of Straka and my own butler, Marcus Stevenson.

"We chose a private, unannounced ceremony in the interests of security; trying to announce such to the public and carry it out without any possible interference or mishaps would have been a possible nightmare that none of us needed. I do hope the good citizens of Myrken Wood can rejoice with us in this matter, putting aside the recent problems in the weather, market, cemetery and inns to enjoy, if but for a moment, their governor's wedded bliss."

The crier blinks a few more times. What to announce? When? "The fat old coot's went and done it again--and announce that *now!* Toby, get the ladder in position! Now, boy!" Ahhhhh. Half past one and all is weeeelllllllllllllllll. . . . .

[gothicwords]

Wedded Bliss my arse!! "

The sound of Alexi's voice rang through the market place as she got word of the blessed event. Gad Phuri had married. Lee did his best to keep her calm as the gathered group was starting to stare at the woman as if she'd lost her mind. She'd taken up both sides of her skirt and was stomping around in a mad circle.

"Married. He Married?" The sound of her voice was as if she loathed the idea. Considerably.

"Madame, you didn't know?" Asked Lee quietly into her ear. Pulling her closer and firmer against him. His eyes bore down into the merchant, quirked brow, bushy and light at her reaction.

"You hadn't actually "loved" that, fat, pompous son of a .. " Lee clears his throat and begins again. "Lexi? What ever you may have felt for this, man you must put it behind you. What ever he may have said or god forbid did to cause this sort of reaction in a lady such as you. Bury it. You must." Encouraged Lee, with a tuck of fingers up under his new employers chin.

The look of surprise and heartbreak that had just moments ago nearly wrecked the woman had changed to something else. The hollow appearance in her eyes seemed to thicken. She narrowed them to form the words and project them quietly to Lee.

"If I should have ever had feelings for Gad Phuri I can not remember. Truly." Her voice cracks as the merchant's head is tucked into the tall shoulder of her driver. Finishing her sentence in a muffled light sob. "Truly I shall never feel such again for any." Lee blinks, guiding her from the square discreetly.

But Lee had a feeling he couldn't keep her discreet for long.



"

[Maggie Mandlor]

Violet Phuri!

She simplely could not! Would not! believe it! Who would have Guessed that She, Violet SmithWell, simple Peasant-once Ghost would become the Governor's wife! certainly not She and she could only Wonder for her good fortune. Her mother had always told her "Violet if you can find a man that can give you all things AND Love then hang onto him and never let go" It just so happened that Violet worshiped the very ground that this particularly man walked on (or made Tremble depending on your footing in the room at the time).

So what now? she could only Ponder completely unaware of the cold hollow Rage of a woman she had never even Met. Violet new exactly What, to Make Gad perfectly and acceptablely happy in every single way she could (which involved three massive meals and plenty of slave labour in the kitchen) and to make herself a respectable "lady" so she could make him proud in public.


Life was happy, life was perfect......at lest for Now.

[gothicwords]

Near Six feet of muscle, A bulked appearance as the hooded figure moved through town, because beneath the garments was everything he would need to torch the betrayers modest home. It would not take much to scale the fence. He's driven here plenty of times. He knew which one was the Governors. The new gardens, now blooming with fresh spring flowers. Pathetic.

One dose of lantern oil, one small spark of a match was all it would take to start a destructive blaze. Followed by a loose brick through a window. Followed by the torch. Another, matched, another torch and the curtain is set ablaze. To be sure the fire is well on its way. Two more bricks and two more flaming torches through the windows - before the stalking figure makes work of torching the garden. -

"Burn. Burn in Hell."

The figure cantered off. Scaling over the fence and running to escape the gaining attention of the fire and damage the Fire was creating. If he couldn't have her, someone would suffer. They all would suffer. He'd start with the one's she loved. The Betrayer.

But he wasn't done just yet. There was more to burn.

[Treadwell]

OOC:

Well, I figure all this means Gad and family are in deeeeep stuff.

Alexi, in case you don't get a reminder by mail or something, please check your private messages on here. I'm not trying to start a fight or a flame war or anything--just noting a couple points that you might want to consider. Thanks. . . .

Please, no one, reply to this message with further OOC. Like I said, no flame wars.

[Treadwell]

"Good gods. . . . Marcus--the house! Violet!"

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the two-story, stone, though homely little house--or what's left of it. Reins were being jerked back on to halt the horses. The black-haired youth sat there on the front of the coach, blinking at the blackened--though mostly intact!--stone walls of the house and the ashes of the gardens. The two guards forced their ways out--and Gad jerked past them on wobbly legs, jogging toward the building.

The front door had been oak. It was now a nice little arch, slightly charred. The parlor had had a lovely little overstuffed couch right there. That couch was now mostly gone, as were the table and chairs near it.

"VIOLET!"

"One side, Governor. Back to the carriage, sir. We'll take care of this."

The two men hustled by Gad, swords drawn, and start going through the house. The furniture in the rooms that the torches were initially tossed was gone. Most other rooms on the first floor were in varying states of damage, most of it severe. The kitchen was emptied. The study was a sad, sad loss; the living room and parlor were soundly scorched. The servants, one remaining guard, and Violet would not have had the resources or the time to put out everything, but at least presumably would have put out what they could before being forced to leave.

The majority of the second floor was, surprisingly, untouched. Stone stairs with no carpeting meant that, if *anything* were burnt, it was all downstairs. Thank heavens. . . .

"Governor, the house is empty; your wife and servants aren't here."

"Th--They're not?"

"No, sir."

"They must be safe, then, yes? But--where? Dear me, where?" He paused to think, and then bellowed out, "Lieutenant Dvorak! What's the penalty for arson?"

"A year in the gaol, I believe."

"And for an attempted assassination?"

"Hanging, Governor. Public hanging."

Gad swallowed. Fear was turning to rage. The white-suited official stomped his way out of the house and hauled himself back into his carriage. One guard hauled himself in after, the other staying to investigate.

"MARCUS! Find me Captain Kanashia!"