Mischief Makers (open!)

[Mikeavelli]

(OOC note: I've got a direction I'm going with this one if I end up having to go solo, but others are welcome to come in)

Beddingsford was a small farming village several days travel from Scara Brae, located near the edge of the Brokenthorn forest, at the edge of a stream that eventually fed into the nameless river that runs through the heart of that forest. The land was fertile, the oxen were healthy, the children were strong, and nothing much out of the ordinary ever seemed to happen there.

Enter into this idyllic life the seed of adventure, a disturbance to the lives and welfare of the citizens of Beddingsford. This is something they, quite frankly, want no part of, but will quickly find it forced upon them! At least, if this festive fellow in travelers clothes walking alone down the dirt path that leads into town has anything to say about it.

A few of the friendlier farmers waved to him on the way in, and he waved back, greeting them with a genuine smile, but it wasn't until he was just outside the town proper that he had a prolonged conversation. It was an old man, stooped low with age and infirmity, that joined him on the road, "Hello stranger, what brings you out all this way?"

"Preaching the good word my friend! So many towns and villages about the countryside lack a man of faith to tend their spiritual needs. So, I have set out on a pilgrimage to serve where I can." With that, he held up a small necklace, a silver chain with a small circle at the end of it; in reality it was barely worth the metal it was fashioned out of. In the eyes of the old man however, it became a work of art that shone brilliantly in the setting sun, taking the shape of the holy symbol of the god the old man most wanted to see; a silver ring forged in imitation of the Light of the Ebon-Brand,

An excited glow leaped into the old mans eyes, "A Priest of Y'edda! Well bless my old eyes, We haven't had one of you through here since I still had a full head of hair! Come, come, you'll get a warm welcome here in Beddingsford! What's your name, young man?"

"I'm Thomas Beck, from Scara Brae, and it's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr....?" Thomas let a little blush come into his cheeks, appearing visibly flustered at the excited reception.

"It's an pleasure, an honor, to meet you too Thomas. Don't mess around with that Mister nonsense, that's what children call me. I'm Donal, now come along, I'll see to it that you're introduced to everyone in town." Donal led, and Thomas followed. True to his word, Donal had introduced Thomas to nearly everyone in Beddingsford before nightfall. He'd even offered Thomas a place to stay while he was in Beddingsford!

All in all, a good start.

[Azlen]

All in all, it was a bad start. He had been traveling for three days at least, and he still hadn’t made it to his destination. Tired and worn, Azlen didn’t know what he was going to do if he wasn’t able to rest soon, and get some food into his stomach. His brother lived in a part of town that wasn’t one of the melodies of the countries gossip, but it should not be this hard to find a town in Scara Brae. He couldn’t remember what it was called, but his brother said he would know it when he found it. Now he couldn’t find it, and it irked him to no depth.

You’ll know it when you find! Well damn! You didn’t expect me to not be able to find it did you Goten?

Azlen had sat down for a quick smoke in the forest; he had found a large fallen log rotting and housing many insects that would suffice for a short period of rest. It was near a river-of, which he didn’t know the name- that he had been following through the Brokenthorn Forest, for he knew that most rivers ended up flowing to a town. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the pipe. A magic pipe that he had saved in his small horde of items he had acquired from his travels. It didn’t need a light, all you had to do was blow on it and it would light by its self. Now the blue smoke flowed up from the tip of the mahogany pipe, swirling around his head as he stared at the map his brother had crudely scratched into the tan weathered pages. His body relaxing from the mix of herbs he had gathered that had soothing properties, with a little bit peppermint so that it would give his breathe an especially mint taste and smell.

He felt a chill as he settled onto the fallen log; a strong wind had been blowing for the past few days, foreshadowing a possible storm. The skies were clear though, and the Aeromancers, masters of the weather, had not sent word about approaching storms. Azlen tapped the map impatiently with his finger. Beddingsford was the name of the village; and he seemed to be pretty close to the place. He was almost out of the Brokenthorn Forest, and he was coming to a more rural part of the country of Scara Brae, which is how his younger brother had described the place in his letter.

His brother, Goten, was supposedly getting married, and since his father had died, it was Azlen’s time to see that the two were wed. He had been hearing about this young lady for the past two years, and had only been introduced to her a few months before his father died. Goten had told him then that he would be marrying her, “She was the one,” is what he had told him, and he had no reason to doubt his brother’s words. They had not rushed into marriage at all, as a matter of fact; they had been meeting with each other for two whole years! This made his father upset, he believed that a man should not have to think about whether or not he should marry a woman. It was all politics to Azlen’s father. This was something neither Goten nor Azlen had inherited from their father, the mind for politics. Instead they had inherited most of his physical beauties.
Every move Azlen made was a testimony to him being his father’s son. Azlen had his slow gait, his high cheekbones set with dark red eyes, his deep booming voice, and even his long dark brown hair. Azlen’s dark brown hair was a little longer than his fathers, for his traveled to the small of his back, while his father’s hair stopped at his neck.

He stood up and threw down the now used pipe; it was only good for three uses. He folded the map up and started walking, only stopping to adjust the broad sword hanging on his back. Fortunately he had not encountered any monsters or beasts of any type as he traveled the woods; it was almost like they were hiding. He didn’t mind though, for the grass was springy under his feet from recent rain, and the sun that was high in the sky did not shine hard on him because of the foliage protection from the trees. The wind could blow, but that didn’t deter him from his path either, for he was going to get to his destination. Joining Goten with his fiancé in matrimony would make him feel better about abandoning them in their time of need earlier that year.

A couple of hours later, he finally came strutting over the hill into town, his belly grumbling with cries for food. He patted it and spoke softly “You’ll be fine in just a little.” Anyone else would have thought this strange, but he was known to talk to himself. It was a habit he had started when he was younger. The town spread out before him like a platter, he didn’t know exactly where his brother was located, but he thought to ask the local villagers for help. Thus he started off into town, relieved with his finding of the small village called Beddingsford.

Any nuances I may have left out or need to take out, just let me know.

[swcn]

mind if i join in?

[Mikeavelli]

". . . And this is my Grand-daughter, Rebecca, who is promised to be married!" Donal finished introducing his extended family; two sons, one daughter, four grandsons, and two granddaughters, of which Rebecca was the last, youngest, and by far the most beautiful. Her hair was a luminous strawberry blond, and her eyes were bright green, the same shade as a forest in Spring. Even modestly dressed as she was in a long, loose dress, Thomas couldn't help but notice the way she curved in all the right ways.

Stricken though he was by another mans bride to be, Thomas never lost his bearing, or betrayed his thoughts by staring. "That is wonderful news! Thank you all, so very much, for having me during this special time. Your hospitality is... It's overwhelming." Thomas spoke in the humblest of tones.

"Honored enough to perform the ceremony yourself?" Donal brought up the question everyone knew had been coming, "Normally we just get the oldest man in the village to say a few words, but if dear Becca could have a real priest for her wedding, why, it'd mean the world to her, and us."

The entire family was hanging on Thomas' response, even Rebecca, whose face was now a shade of red normally seen only on tomatoes and (something red?). Thomas waited a while, hesitating, as though he had to put any kind of thought into this decision at all. He looked around, to Donal, into Rebecca's eyes, and smiled. "I would be honored."

--------------------------------

After dinner had finished, the children had been sent to bed, and Thomas took Rebecca aside to learn a little more about the couple whose wedding he was going to bless."Tell me a bout this young man you're promised to marry"

She looked down, avoiding his eyes. Her blush had never really gone away, but it deepened again as she spoke of her groom-to-be, "Goten, the young man, he is a very good man. Strong, handsome, and very brave."

"And you love him deeply, you're a very lucky woman. Tell me more, what drew you to him" Thomas verbally prodded, drawing open that great emotional floodgate

Rebecca gave him an odd look, confused for just a moment why Thomas cared so much about this. But she felt something overtake her, fill her with passion and life like she'd never dared to experience before. It was like every shred of embarrassment and humility was falling away, freeing her from her inhibitions, the question of why she could open up to this man she'd known for only a few hours fell to the wayside. She looked up at Thomas now, a sparkle in her eyes, "I've always loved him, ever since we were children. He was never mean or cruel like some of the other boys. You know how children are, malicious pranksters to the last, but Goten was always kind to me.

He was brave, too. I remember once when we were younger, we'd gone off to the forest, and lost track of the time. The forest near here isn't safe after the sun sets, there are ghosts that live there, they hate us for being alive, and try to frighten to death anyone still out there. But, we were out alone. . ." She caught herself there, her mouth snapped shut once she realized what she said.

Those put his hand on her shoulder and said, "Don't worry, Rebecca, you've done nothing wrong being alone with the man you love, the man you're marrying. Go on."

"No-one else knows about this, you must promise me you won't tell anyone. Anyone at all!" Rebecca had a pleading look in her eyes, desperate to make sure this secret didn't come out.

"You have my word, not one word of this will leave me lips, but you must tell me the whole story." Thomas goaded her on, savoring every word she spoke.

"Thank you, thank you! Oh, I've wanted to tell this to someone for so long, we were out, miles from the village, and only noticed the sun setting when it was nearly done. Goten is swift as a horse when he wants to be, he could have run back to the village before the sun set, he could have left me there, but he didn't. He kept me close, and braved the horrible things out there for me. I don't know how he did it, but he brought us home, and that's when I knew we'd be together. Nothing could ever tear us apart." She finished with a lost look in her eyes, reliving the memories again, it must not have been nearly so terrible as she made it out to be, because Thomas could see love in her eyes, not fear or terror.

Thomas smiled, and stood, he hadn't felt so full in many months, he didn't want to burn through this in a single night. He spoke to her as he turned to leave, "Yours is a rare love, and you will have a magnificent wedding. I will take great happiness in marrying you two. Now come, it's getting late, and there's much to do tomorrow. We should both be heading to bed."

"Yes, of course," Rebecca came back down as suddenly as she'd been lifted up, "I do feel very tired now. Goodnight, Thomas, and thank you again."

"My Pleasure, Goodnighht."

[Dischordant]

"Ghosts?" Eade said skeptically as he pushed a low-hanging, thorny branch away from his face. The forest wasn't called Brokenthorn for nothing and the musician's pricked, bloody hands were a testament to that fact.

"Yes, Ghosts," Deloris hummed from her place on Eade's back, her strings vibrating with what her companion could only describe as annoyance.

If anyone was watching it would be clear that this wasn’t the first time Eade heard his guitar talk. In fact, he'd been hearing her talk almost non-stop since he rescued her five years ago from an estate sale in Lubbock, Texas. The only slightly disconcerting thing, though a more introspective man would probably find it comforting, was that now everyone could hear her talk. Still, loud-mouthed or not, he loved her. She was beautiful - a cherry vintage 1973 Gibson custom Les Paul, and she sounded sweeter than any instrument Eade ever played. And, perhaps most importantly of all, she was the only thing in the world to always have his back (so to speak), no matter what.

Eade ducked under a another branch. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with ghosts? Projectile vomit pea soup at them then get thrown out a window?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Deloris sniped back. "Remember the Valley Ho in Phoenix?"

"That was totally different. That girl was no ghost."

"But there was still vomit, a broken window, and you looking like an asshole."

"True," Eade said, ceding the verbal bout to his companion. "Quiet down, I think we're here."

Eade cleared a last, thick tangle of thorns from the narrow path and stepped out of the forest. A pastoral valley ripe with farmland stretched out before him. Fields of wheat looked like seas of molten gold in the setting sun. Lone cottages dotted the fields, slowly increasing in density as they converged upon the village proper.

"Let's try and keep a low profile," Eade said as he started down the hill.

"Sure," Deloris agreed in a ghostly B-flat. Eade rolled his eyes and groaned; that was too easy.
________________________

The Fertile Calf Inn - which, incidentally, Eade thought was a disgusting name - seemed to be the only place in town to get a drink. It was one of those quiet, local places where townies sloshed away their savings and complained about their day. Not exactly the type of joint the former rock star normally frequented, but it would do in a pinch. Eade entered the wooden building and headed straight for the bar. Of the five stools, one was open, squeezed between two sweaty farmers arguing boisterously about the benefits of using oxen versus horse manure as fertilizer.

"Don't you dare," came a steely hiss in Eade's ear. "Those men look like horse manure themselves and I refuse to just sit on your back all night."

Like a puppet pulled by invisible strings Eade changed his course, heading for a small, unoccupied table near the northern wall of the Inn. The locals gave him strange looks as he passed, though he hardly noticed. Eade started getting strange looks the moment he woke up in this crazy place a week ago. People seemed to think he was sick, or an evil deviant, or some crazy bastard who was going to snap at any moment. Eade couldn't really blame them; he didn't exactly look like Farmer John's best boy. He was thin, pale, generally unkempt, and constantly looked like he was on the verge of either falling asleep or yelling obscenities. People on earth they called it hip. Here it was just weird.

At the table Eade slid Deloris carefully off his back and placed her in one of the two empty chairs, positioning her so she could look out at the crowd. As he sank into his own chair a young barmaid approached the table. Eade eyed her quickly. In a few more years she would be hot, but now she just looked like a girl. Not really his taste.

"Evenin'," the girl said politely, trying desperately to keep her eyes on Eade and not the contraption seated to his right. "What'll ya 'ave?"

"Shot and a beer," Eade answered immediately. "Strong."

The girl nodded and turned back toward the bar. Before she'd gone three steps Deloris' sharp voice rang out. “One shot and one beer?” The girl stopped.

Eade buried his face in his hands. “We’ve been over this. I’m poor and you can’t eat or drink.”

“Oh, so now I’m a cheap date? Is that what you’re saying?” The guitar screeched loudly. “You think I’m some Sunset whore who’ll sleep with any guy nice enough to talk to her?!”

The barmaid looked stunned and Eade lifted his head to look out at the other patrons. All eyes were on him.

So much for keeping a low profile.

[Azlen]

He hadn’t seen him in so long, and already Goten looked twenty years older than Azlen. A little time and hard work doesn’t do you as much as good as people says it does, because the stubbly face that looked back was sporting ruby red blood shot eyes. Large cracked lips formed the man’s mouth and large built muscles formed the man’s body. He looked almost like Azlen, but Azlen was definitely more of a pretty boy.

Azlen had been staring at this face for the last twenty minutes while they caught up with life, including the wedding that was happening soon. “You never told me Azlen.” Goten’s deep clear voice nervously came out, as he shifted to the left in his rough wooden rocker.
“Told you what?” Azlen answered sincerely, blinking his eyes a few times trying to hold off sleep. “What you thought about her. You never told me what you thought about Rebecca.” The words rushed out of Goten’s mouth hurriedly, as if he was embarrassed to ask his older brothers opinion.

Azlen smirked and ran his hands through his long brown hair. “What do you think I think about her?” Azlen said playfully, leaning back in his own rocker, the small fire in the fireplace illuminating the gleam of roguishness in his eyes. “I don’t know, maybe you don’t like her, maybe you do. Not that it matters to me, I just wanted to know.” His voice sounded like he could start shouting at any minute, so Goten bit his lip to calm down his nervous energy.

“Then again I know you always sided with father on everything!” Goten stood up and paced, no longer paying attention to Azlen. “He wasn’t particularly happy about this marriage when I told him, and ever since he died…I just can’t help but think, I’m disgracing his memory by not listening to him. I don’t know please tell me what you think!”

He was eager to see what Azlen thought about his love, he had been waiting for three weeks for his older brother. Someone to confide in! Except Azlen sat there with his eyes closed and head down sleeping, finally overcome with weariness. It had taken him about an hour to find his brother’s house once he got into town, and Goten wasn’t the best cook either. Hunger and tiredness combine had finally fallen on him in a heap.

“I swear if I hadn’t promised Mother I wouldn’t kill you, boy I would kill you!” Goten said jokingly a small smile smoothed across his face, though he stilled felt uneasy about not knowing Azlen’s feelings along with other things.

Goten decided to just let the fire burn out, as he walked with anticipation to his small bedroom. Not ready to go to bed at all, but ready to be up and wedded!

[Mikeavelli]

Mr. Bradoc was a cultured man, the sort of man more at home in the back offices of a large store, counting coinage and making little marks on pieces of paper. He was the sort of man who wanted to live a quiet, comfortable life in the middle of a big city, with a good woman and well-behaved children.

He’d sought employment in the Brokenthorn Lumber company for its reputation, a large company guaranteed to give him a steady paycheck so long as he did his job and didn’t make the wrong people angry. Unfortunately, he was also a textbook case of the competency zone, the tendency of large organizations to promote their employees until the point where they’re unsuited for the position they’re in, at which point they sit on their incompetent arse and make poor decisions until someone above them notices.

When someone noticed Mr. Bradoc, it meant reassignment to the small town of Beddingsford, where he couldn’t do much, if any, damage. Mr. Bradoc didn’t come outside much, didn’t associate with many of the townsfolk, and didn’t like it when he had to. This morning, however, he’d finally forced himself outside, to track down that new priest that wandered into town.

Thomas sized up the man as he came up, He was middle-aged. His hair, what little of it there was, still held more brown than gray, and his taste in clothing was a dusty old outfit that would have been unremarkable even when he’d bought it new, back when he actually lived in a city. A pair of spectacles sat on his very crow-like nose, and the eyes behind them were squinty and vaguely suspicious.

Mr. Bradoc’s mouth probably hadn’t smiled in the last decade, and the voice that came out of it wasn’t much better, “You there, you’re the priest, right? Finally showed up, I sent word months ago that we needed you, what the hell was the hold-up?”

“Excuse me?” Thomas inquired with a purposefully irritating casual tone.

Mr. Bradoc’s forehead wrinkled with contempt, “The Priest, the one from Scara Brae? The one who’s going to take care of this superstitious nonsense the locals have gotten into their heads and get us cutting down timber again?”

“I wasn’t sent by any company, sir, but I’m here taking care of whatever ministering this town needs. What problems are you having?” Thomas took on a softer tone now, there just wasn’t any challenge in irritating someone like this.

“Like I already said,” Mr. Bradoc spoke like he was talking to a small child, “Locals have it in their heads that the woods are haunted. One of ‘em got spooked working late at night, came back with wild stories. They’d always been saying things like that, but nobody had ever actually seen anything until a couple months back, now half the town’s so scared they their jobs, I can’t meet my quota, and the bigwigs back in town are blaming ME for all of it! I need someone to go in there and say a few prayers or whatever it is you do to put ghosts to rest, or at least convince the townsfolk that they’re safe. Can you handle that?”

Thomas looked at him thoughtfully for a few moments before responding, “No… I want to know what problems you are having. Brokenthorn lumber is just a company, it doesn’t have a soul, and I can’t minister to it. You, have a heart that’s broken, and a soul that needs my help, if you want it?”

Mr. Bradoc took a deep breath, and tried to calm down…. Unsuccessfully, “Look, I’m not coming to you for the sermon, I’m coming to you because I need this job, in the real world, done.”

“You already said you’ve waited for months already? What’s another afternoon going to cost you?”

He meant it rhetorically, but Mr. Bradoc was the sort of man who knew exactly how much it was costing him every day he didn’t have men working the woods. “Too much. Listen, alright, I get it, you’ve got your job, I’ve got mine. Damn things are only supposed to come out at night anyways, if I sit through your preaching while you try to save my soul, will you go out there and help me out?”

Thomas smiled widely, “Of course.”

[Mikeavelli]

“So you see, by maximizing your core business components, and empowering the workers under your purview to become pro-active points of decision, you open new opportunities to facilitate your own advancement. It’s a win-win synergistic relationship for everyone involved.” Thomas hadn’t the slightest idea what most of those words meant, if they even had any meaning, but they were the product of a full hour of conversation with Mr. Bradoc.

The old man had started out this morning, and every morning for the past few months, filled with bitterness and spite. Now, however, something in those words, had brought him outside with a bounce in his step and a smile on his face. “Yes, you’re right! By the gods, I’ve been wasting my life micro-managing when I should have been delegating! I’ll start those changes right away, thank you so much for teaching me!”

Thomas smiled, “I didn’t teach you anything, Mr. Bradoc. Everything you’ve realized has been inside you all this time, I just helped you realize it. Thank you for listening, now I’ve got my end of the bargain to hold up.”

“Yes, the ghosts, even that isn’t going to stand in my way anymore, but I’ll be eternally grateful if you could take care of that too.” Mr. Bradoc put his hand on Thomas’ shoulder, “You shouldn’t go alone though, even if the ghosts aren’t real, there are plenty of wild animals out there at night, it might be dangerous.”

“Thank you for the warning, I think I know just what to do.”

[hr]

Thomas walked into The Fertile Calf Inn, the only building of any real size in the whole town of Beddingsford. He nodded to several people as he passed, smiling and waving to the few townsfolk he’d personally met, and to many others who’d already heard he was in town. It was late afternoon, and most of the young men were here after a long day’s work in the fields, the perfect audience for this sort of announcement. He simply walked up to a small stage, and began speaking, counting on the power of his voice and reputation to make everyone pay attention.

It worked.

“Hello everyone! Thank you so much for your hospitality, it’s only been a few days since I’ve arrived here, and by the grace of Y’edda I’ve done my best to help as many of you as I can. Tonight, I have to ask for the help of some of you, I’m looking for a few of the bravest men in Beddingsford.”

Thomas paused a bit to let that sink in, looking directly into Goten’s eyes, the young man who would soon be married by his own words, one man he knew wasn’t afraid of whatever was out there, “I’ve been told restless spirits haunt the woods just outside of town, poor souls who torment the living who go there. I cannot, by my oaths, or by my conscience, let these spirits continue to suffer, or allow this town to continue being tormented. Therefore, I have resolved to walk into the woods tonight, and do what I can to lay them to rest. It may be dangerous, and will be frightening, and there is every chance I will not to be able to do it alone, so I invite anyone brave enough to come with me to stand now.”

With that, he waited for the results.