Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Trick or Treat: Black Pine Crossing

Jonathan awoke from his afternoon nap in the library sometime around supper. The sun hung low in the sky, nearly set, as would be expected for a late October evening. Strange that Maddox hadn't been the one to shake him awake, though. Usually the redhead was meticulous about making sure his master never missed a meal, especially with winter on the horizon and the ancient wizard's frail health showing more each year.

He glanced at the dwarven timepiece set on the mantle above the hearth. It was nearly eight, and he hadn't seen or heard anyone else in the dimly lit library of his home for quite some time. With a grunt, he hauled himself upright, off the sofa, and headed for the doors, leaning perhaps a bit more heavily on his silver and black staff than he might otherwise, had he not just woken up.

As soon as he stepped past the threshold to the library, past the silencing spells he had laid into the doorframe centuries ago, a cacophony of calls and a symphony of smells practically pounced upon him. He shuffled down the hall and looked left over the balcony that hung over his home's grand entrance hall, where tables were lined up with all manner of festive foods, and his employees milled about setting up even more treats. Odd decorations lined the walls and pillars of the hall. Carved pumpkins from the garden, with candles lighting them from the inside, were lined up along the staircase leading up to the second floor, and paper garlands with cutouts of spiders and spirits were strung from the rafters.

Perhaps oddest of all, every one of his employees participating in these activities wore strange clothing.

"Maddox!" Jon called, finally spying his chief of staff among the crowd, currently laying out some sweet smelling pastry filled with pecans and maple sugar. The redhead was dressed ridiculously, a long yellow tunic with wide black stripes covering his torso and wire antennae woven into his hair. "What in Leyar's name are you doing to my house?"

Black Pine Crossing's chief of staff went almost as red as well-trimmed beard after being called out by his master and distant relative, stammering for a moment as he tried to find his words. "Well, I... ah, you see... There's ah, there's a holiday some folks celebrate at the end of October--"

"All Hallows Eve, yes. I've heard of it." The old man interrupted as he descended the stairs to stand next to his distant nephew. "But why are you dressed like that?"

"Oh..." Maddox briefly stared down at his getup before answering. "Apparently that's a bit of a... local tradition. It was Ari's idea. Apparently among the people who celebrate, there are some who also wear costumes and visit the homes of others who celebrate in search of treats, hence..." The redhead trailed off, waving his hands around the banquet laid out in the hall.

Jonathan let out a long sigh, staring around at the other members of his household who had all come out for the occasion. Ariathel, the wood elven cook, waved at him from across the hall, where she wore a green dress and a hair piece that made her look a bit like a flower. It wasn't hard to imagine who suggested which outfit. Her younger brother, Bralthrawn, the gardener, smiled from where he laid out warm dinner rolls in an orange shirt with pointed ears and a stuffed orange and white tail. A fox? Maybe. The stable boy was nowhere to be found, but he didn't find that surprising. He could still be shy about these things, and with the full moon on the horizon... maybe he would be making himself scarce.

"I suppose that means we'll be expecting guests." The wizard grumbled, noting the many pairs of glowing eyes in the shadows of the room. All the little dragons that call this place home, his prized pets, had been spooked by the ruckus caused by all of the party planning. No matter, hopefully that meant they wouldn't disturb the guests. "And I suppose that means I should probably find something to wear too."

"Far be it from me to advise it, sir. But you may want to put on more than just your housecoat if you'll be joining us tonight."

"Hmph."

Jon grunted, turning back toward the stairs and disappearing into his quarters on the third floor. He emerged sometime later dressed in the kind of finery many would consider fit for a king. Layers of embroidered silk robes, a heavy mantle, all in shades of blue and gold with a circlet rested atop his head. He didn't look happy about the transition, much preferring his loose cotton trousers and comfortable housecoat, but the formal regalia served as a good enough costume that he won't have to waste spells on making himself look different. It wasn't really a costume, of course, just the clothes normal people expected him to wear on a regular basis, but it would do.

He stepped back down the stairs, and as he did he waved his hand off to the left, then to the right, throwing magic across the room and bringing the decorations his people had put up to life. The spiders strung on garlands wriggled their legs, moving up and down as if on webs of their own. The shadows at the corners of the room formed ghostly shapes that danced across the floor. The faces carved into the pumpkins scrunched up and grimaced as each came alive with frightening cackles. A phantom hand arose from the punch bowl, reaching for any that dared come too near, as similar apparitions flew through the rafters.

Now they would be able to entertain guests properly.

Decked out in a sparkling fringed rodeo shirt, a pair of bright red leather boots coated in puffy glitter glue, and an old cattleman hat encrusted with diamond rhinestones, Gabe Kendall stood perfectly still in the cold, misty air of a foreign landscape and… blinked.

He was not dressed for the bone-chilling weather of autumn in the mountains; he hadn't even taken the slightly milder weather in the valley into consideration when he picked out this chintzy jeans-and-chambray costume from Goodwill. He'd been milling about in the toasty, overcrowded halls of the downtown community center a moment ago, where children screamed in delight and ghoulish tunes like Monster Mash poured out of the overhead PA system. He'd anticipated a headache, certainly, but not hypothermia.

The unexpected stillness of the silent forest made his ears ring and his pulse skyrocket. And yet… suddenly finding himself in an unexpected location with his breath billowing out of him like a steam engine wasn't nearly as strange as the sheer volume of unrestrained, full-strength, natural, wild magic vibrating through the air all around him. And through him.

It was like waking up in a utopian dream. Or, considering the tidal wave of unmonitored arcane energy likely meant the government of his homeland had experienced a severe and total collapse… slightly dystopian. It would depend on who you asked. To Gabe, it felt wonderful.

He shook his shock off and hurried for the door, silently praying the wards he sensed on the property weren't an omen of an unfriendly groundskeeper.

After making use of the door knocker (no answer, but he heard voices and laughter inside) he let himself in and had to stop again, glued to the floor from amazement at what he saw.

"...I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto."

The eighteen-month-old toddler strapped to his chest (dressed in a do-it-yourself pony costume made of felt and yarn from Dollar Tree) babbled a reply that wouldn't mean much to most parents, but Gabe's telepathic bond to the child clued him in on the boy's swell of pure delight.

Gabe had to agree: the place was awe-inspiring.

"Excuse me?" He called out to the nearest cluster of folks and waved sheepishly. Tall as a street lamp and wide as a barn, it was impossible for him to blend into the strange environment even before adding his garish costume into the equation, but standing out was not something he did with much comfort. The oversized man cleared his throat and made his best attempt to project a soft-spoken baritone above the din.

"I don't mean to intrude, but I think we've gotten horribly lost. Could someone point us back to the main road?" If such a thing existed.

Whatever sorts of guests Jonathan was expecting to arrive to this party, the man who walked through the doorway certainly wasn’t it. Nearly as tall as the mountain his home was built on, clad toe to top in reflective gemstones, and toting a child (who seemed to be dressed as a horse) strapped to his chest…? He was certainly an odd sight. But a guest was a guest, he supposed, and this was the first one of the evening, if his eyes did not deceive him. Even dressed up in their costumes, it was still easy enough to recognize the various members of his household milling about, enjoying the games and snacks.

The wizard smiled up at the man as he approached, intending to stow his usually abrasive mien in favor of something more polite. It was an attitude usually reserved for political meetings and court hearings, but he guessed it would serve him just as well tonight.

"Welcome, young sir." Jonathan voiced his greeting to the garishly clad individual, choosing a respectful title not only out of habit, but because he assumed that anyone who could afford such a lavishly decorated outfit must be either very wealthy, or very well known. "There is only one road on or off this mountain, the one that leads back to Agate Pass, which you would have come up to get here. But I would invite you to stay awhile, if you please. We have plenty of food and festivities to share."

The mage lifted his hand, then, gesturing to the long tables set with food and drink with the wine glass he held, and offering everything presented to the young man.

"Tell me, friend, what is your name?"

As Gabe drank in the medieval decor and splendid illusionary magic all around him, he felt he was beginning to understand how he had come to arrive on the charming mansion's doorstep.

It all started at the Community Center.

There had to have been another mage in the crowd. Someone quite powerful, who liked to have a good time and possessed a wonderful sense of humor; someone who was extending the invitation exclusively to other mages, hence the large concentration of arcane energy on the property. And finally, someone who wanted to celebrate the holiday away from law enforcement interference by hiding their festivities in the middle of the wilderness. Kind of smart, really.

Somehow Gabe had to have stumbled across their transportation spell on his way to the candied apple stall, like triggering a tripwire or a trap door. Distracted by the children, and the noise, and his lingering grief, the magic had caught him unaware. That's all. And he's sort of glad it did; he might not have walked into the trap if he'd known it was set.

Anyway, whoever the mystery host was, they had to be someone very wealthy. The rental costs for the place, let alone the catering… And the man who greeted him so attentively was surely a hired thespian. Had to be. The Vokunan accent rolling off his tongue, melodic like the lilt of the Irish, really sold the whole 'transported back in time' theme.

"I… see." Gabe scratched his cheek while fighting back a smirk. 'Agate Pass' had to be code for something recognizable, but what? A landmark? A service road? Maybe this was like an escape room challenge and he'd have to solve the riddle before being released back home…

"I'm Gable, and this little colt is Lee."

The toddler stared deeply into the old man's eyes without blinking.

Silently appreciating the quality of the man's costume, Gabe cleared his throat lightly. "Is the host around? I'd like to give them my compliments for such a dazzling show. This sure beats candy corn and bobbing for apples."

Wide eyes and confused looks were passed between some of the other members of the group listening in on the two men's conversation. But the wizard himself seemed not to care too much about the stranger not immediately knowing who the host was in this situation. In fact he kind of liked it, the brief and fleeting feeling of anonymity that came from being just another man for a moment. A moment that couldn't last, of course.

"Jonathan." The mage offered his hand to shake in greeting as he introduced himself, his fingertips still glowing with residual magic, while meeting the toddler's gaze with a friendly smile. "Well met, Gable. And I would direct you to the host, but you are currently speaking with him, so instead I will simply say: Welcome to my home."

As a bit of an afterthought, Jon reached forward to poke the staring child's nose, just a light tickle, in an attempt to garner a smile from him.

Gabe could feel the confusion and curiosity as it swept through the crowd milling around them, but he was slow to realize what had caused it. The older man's next words made his eyes widen.

"This is your home?"

It wasn't like Gable had never seen a mansion before (on the contrary, he'd been inside at least six and lived in two—and a half, if his aunt's summer 'cottage' counted) but it was the age of the place that made his mind whirl. It was incredible for something this precious to be privately owned.

He returned the handshake, speechless.

The toddler, Lee, made a happy noise and reached out his hands and attempted to grasp the old man who had tapped his nose. Gabe matched his son's urges with parental reflexes that scooped those grabby little paws into a wordless, impromptu game of something like 'patty cake.'

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. …And to be surrounded by so much magic." He could still feel it tingling on his hand from when they touched. A slow, happy smile spread on his lips. This place was like a dream come true.

"If that offer for refreshments is still good, I suppose I am a mite hungry. We'd only been at the community center for fifteen minutes or so before I stumbled upon your conveyance point. Hardly enough time to get a cider, let alone a donut, in those lines."

It wasn’t until their hands met that Jonathan was able to detect the presence of the young man’s own magic. It felt welcoming and homey, like warm mulled cider on a chill autumn day, but also wild, like worn leather and peppered jerky mixed with leaf litter and sunlight. It was a sharp contrast to the roaring river of his own, the sound of which sometimes drowned out his own thoughts.

“Indeed, and I built a good deal of it myself.” The wizard said proudly, grinning at little Lee’s hastily redirected fingers. He wouldn’t have minded the little hands pulling and grabbing for his. He hadn’t ever raised children of his own, but enough fosters had made their way through his home that he was more than familiar with the principles toddler husbandry.

“The pleasure is mine, and please, help yourself. We have quite the spread laid out tonight. My head cook, Ariathel—“ Here he paused, pointing to the wood elf where she stood at the punch bowl, serving up glasses of whatever swirling brew the vessel contained. “—has outdone herself. Pumpkin cakes, sweet squash cookies, hard candies, apples with caramel and honey, pies aplenty… you’ll have to let me know if they’re any good.”

He paused then, sparing a sly wink for the younger gentleman. There were a few things laid out he could eat, of course. The pumpkin mousse. The walnut tea. The squash pudding. But the rest? No, that he would have to leave for the others.

But then he frowned, a bit of confusion trickling into his expression before he wiped it away with something kinder. He hadn’t set any conveyance points recently, especially not in anywhere like where it sounded like this man came from. But arcane anomalies were far from a rare occurrence in his life, and he had learned to take them in stride.

“It was not me who set that spell, Gable, but I wouldn’t worry too hard about whoever did, if it was intentional to begin with.” He explained briefly. “Sometimes magic has a way of bringing strangers together in unexpected ways, and I’ve come to accept its meddling with open arms.”

A banquet? With free food? Of course Cavalia was coming! Her hooves clatter on the floor as she slow-trots through the door, her chest flung out and her arms wide in a "the party has arrived" sort of gesture. She is draped all over in a series of colorful scarves, fluttering around her. When she comes to a stop, the odd thing is that she doesn't come to a stop, at least not right away. Instead, she performs a piaffe in place, raising her knees to sharp right angles in a highly stylized trot.

"Good evening, good evening my friends!" she cries. Her voice is slightly deep, and carries like the trained orator and singer that she is.

When Jonathan hears the clatter of hooves on the wooden floor, he almost expects to look up and see the imposing grulla figure of his friend, Tehani. But the footfalls he hears are much more even and controlled than those his unfortunately lame courier could produce, right down to the piaffe, which he hears just before he sees, as the diminutive centaur finally comes into view. He can't help but smile, seeing the controlled finesse with which she moves her feet.

It pleases Jon's inner cavalryman to no end.

"Welcome, friend!" The wizard greets from his position several yards away. He's grinning like a fool, in part for the impressive display of agility, and in part because he can't help but be amused the centaur's small size and contrastingly large personality. "What may we call you? And please, help yourself to the spoils of our kitchen!"

Cavalia sweeps a hand around, bending her human torso and lowering the front of her horse body into a bended crouch, mimicking a deep bow. "Your welcome fills me with joy and satisfaction, m'lord! I am Cavalia, adventuring merchant and renowned performer. Please, tell me who is my most gracious host, and just as importantly, who do you employ as your cook to have created such a delectable spread?"

Leaping back onto her feet, she does a side-step over toward the table with pies, immedately helping herself to some apple pie drizzled with caramel.

"Jonathan Eris, Archmage of Elbrad-Nos." He extends a hand toward Cavalia in greeting as he introduces himself. "That lovely elven lady over there, the one dressed as a flower, is my head cook, Ariathel. She's standing next to Maddox, my chief of staff, who is presently supposed to look like a bee, I think... I'm unsure why, but I'm sure the whole thing was her idea."

Across the room, Ari blushes, seeing her master clearly pointing her out to one of the guests. The centaur he's speaking with looks charming and friendly, and looks to be a fan of her baking if the way she goes for the caramel apple pie is any indication, but she's never been one to take credit for those sorts of things, and quickly shuffles behind Maddox.

“Built it? With your own hands?” Gable’s wide, warm brown gaze sweeps the great hall again and a thrilled shiver runs through him. Could it really be true? Could this man before him be as old as the mansion in which they stand or… is this captivating suggestion just some more holiday theatrics?

Gabe finds himself inclined to believe Jonathan, if for no other reason than his robes (and his entire staff’s wardrobes) are all spot-on for a certain kind of citizen who once lived in the distant past. But more than their clothes, the abundance of candles, the floor-to-ceiling textiles, the very furniture (clearly formed by skilled labor without the aid of machines) speaks of a golden era that has long been dead where he comes from. Either every trace of modernity has been meticulously banished from sight, or this place is the real thing.

Very suddenly it feels as though he’s standing on holy ground. It takes his breath away.

It’s a few seconds before Gabe can speak again, preceded by a shy laugh and a smile to match. “I’ll treat it as my duty to try them all, sir, and report back with my findings.”

“Yes, perhaps a very deep and ancient kind of magic,” he muses. The omniscient kind Who likes nothing more than a timely appointment with new friends.

And speaking of new friends, Gabe couldn’t have imagined the night could get any better when the sudden and cheerful arrival of a pint-sized centaur proves him wrong.

Grinning, he tips his obnoxiously gem-encrusted cattleman hat at her. The rest of his garish ensemble (also bedazzled and fringed to the ninth heaven for he is, after all, the Rhinestone Cowboy) sparkles in a friendly way.

“Howdy’do, miss. That was some awfully fine footwork just now. I’d be thrilled to dance even half so well with half the number of legs as you’ve got to synchronize. If you don’t mind my saying,” he tacks on quickly, reddening almost in tandem with Jonathan’s cook. Paired with his own costume, Gabe’s carrier-confined toddler being dressed as a tiny pony suddenly seems in poor taste.

Overhearing Jonathan’s introduction of himself—title and all—makes him feel a little lightheaded with giddiness. He casts the man a look of deep admiration, but unfortunate memories of facts laid in history books tinge it with sadness. He looks away and shops the dessert table, making sure to keep Lee’s tiny toddler hands at bay.

Cavalia shifts her plate of apple pie into the crook of her arm with a skill that might hint as to some background as a server, freeing up her hands to clasp the one proferred by the Archmage. "An honor, an honor. I'm thrilled to make your acquantince."

Her gaze transfers then to the cook and chief of staff, tossing them a wink and a wave that somehow seems to communicate you two are the cutest couple and I prooooomise not to gossip about you. Clearly, she clocks the blush, and has intentions only of stoking that fire in their cheeks.

Abruptly, she wheels toward Gabe - an unusual maneuver that involves simply the turning of her front half, as you might expect from a human transferring their attention in a conversation, but requires her back half to trot about in a semi-circle to preserve the stability of her front - and points at the pony toddler. "Now THAT," she booms, "Is the cutest foal I've ever seen."

"I had a good deal of help, of course." He responds to Gable with a chuckle. "Architect is not a title I've ever been able to hold, and it's probably a good thing. The workshop outside, now that one I did build on my own, and it... ah... well, the quality is noticeably worse."

Jonathan waves at the toddler strapped to the glittering man's chest as he turns away toward the desserts. He does his best to hide his concern over the flash of complex emotions that played out over the Gable's face just before he turned away. Perhaps he only needs some sugar to brighten his mood? Stars know he gets that way sometimes. Regardless, he'll have to check on the young man again later, just to make sure he's alright.

Across the room, Maddox takes note of Cavalia's wave, and returns the gesture. He, however, is unfazed by the attention, smiling and waving back while Ariathel is still blushing half a shade shy of the same red as his hair and beard. The meaning behind the centaur's wink is utterly lost on him, however.

In his mind, he and the head cook are not a couple. Never have been. But they have been very good friends for a very long time. One might even call them childhood friends, although they met when they were teenagers. Ever has he thought of her as his little sister, a reliable friend and colleague, despite her best efforts to change that, to get him to notice her interest in him as more than that. In spite of everything, the gifts of sweets on his lunch tray, the loitering in his office, the offers of back rubs, the matching flower and bee costumes, he still hasn't caught on.

Relief washes the tension out of Gable’s expression just before an ear-to-ear smile splits his face.

“This is Lee,” he boasts, puffing out both his chest and the toddler to the charming, entertaining stranger. Lee makes a shrill exclamation of delight, points, and utters something that sounds an awful lot like pony! to which his father gasps and laughs and makes all manner of unusual embarrassed noises. “My name’s Gabriele. G–Gable. Just Gabe, really. Please call me Gabe.”

True to his word, the giant man chooses a little of everything from the table, intending to bring a helping back to their gracious host.

"A pleasure to meet you, Gabe and Lee." she says to Gabe. Then, addressing herself just to Lee,"Yes, pony!" she agrees whole heartedly, appearing to take no offense at all to the moniker.

Cavalia's back legs do the cross-step pattern again to wheel her back half around closer to Gabe and Lee. "He can hop aboard if you like, just keep one hand on him."

She shifts the plate of pie out of the crook of her arm, selects a fork from the table, and digs into her pie.

A centaur offering a ride? Gabe’s chest swells and his eyes glitter. “Goodness me! That’s a mighty generous offer, Miss Cavalia. I’m certain he’d love that. Thank you.”

Gabe unbuckles the carrier, folds the front of it down, and lifts his son up and over its padded side. But despite Lee’s pony-crazed enthusiasm a moment ago, the little tyke clings to his father’s arms and makes a soft, uncertain noise when he realizes he’s being passed off to a stranger.

“Shh, s’all right, puppy.” Gabe spends a moment rubbing the toddler’s back and kissing his head, but sends a smile to the centaur. “Pardon his manners. This is his first rodeo.”

Once Lee is settled in the cradling curve of Cavalia’s back, Gabe follows her advice, keeping one hand firmly fisted into a handful of homemade pony costume. He finds himself twisting around to grin at the old mage, too, as if this is the happiest moment of his life.

“Would you come and hold him for a minute, Jonathan? I’d like to take his picture.” Gabe happened to be transferred here with his phone in his back pocket, along with his wallet and a hotel keycard… not that any of these things will do him much good here. But the phone is fully charged and the camera ought to work just fine.

The wizard tilts his head in an initially unspoken question. Picture? Like a portrait? Ordinarily that would take ages to create, but he did sense a lick of magic on the young man when they shook hands. Maybe this is the sort of thing he puts his arcane talents toward; making portraits in a fraction of the time it would normally take for paint and canvas to accomplish the same.

"Of course." Jon agrees a moment later, coming up beside Cavalia to help the toddler keep his balance, and blowing a raspberry on the child's cheek by way of greeting. Hopefully it will entice a smile from Lee for the portrait his father wants.

For a moment, he considers making himself invisible. Gable wants the image of his son on the centaur's back, after all, not the old fogey standing in as hand-holder while the young man works his magic. But he can't help but wonder if his sudden disappearance would frighten the child, and thus ruin the portrait anyway if it meant Lee acted out or simply didn't look happy. Then again, if Gable is the one making the image, surely he can just choose not to include Jonathan in it? That's how these things work, right? If a painter sees something they don't want in the final image, they just don't paint it. Right?

When the toddler initially is settled on her back, she waits patiently for him to find his seat, then very gently lifts and lowers her hooves in place to make a soft clattering noise as if she is trotting, simulating the gentlest of rides for the little guy. Grinning, she waits for the adults to transfer their hold, staying very still (except for her human half which finishes off the pie while this transfer is taking place.)

She also isn't sure how the picture is to be made, but she is a born performer. Setting down the empty plate, she lifts one front hoof and the opposite back hoof, striking a still pose of cantering. She puffs out her human chest and lifts her chin, holding her arms in a cartoonish approximation of "running" so that the little pony will appear to be riding a galloping centaur. At least, if you squint.

Cavalia’s brilliant, gentle bounce sets a slow grin rolling across the little pup’s face. It quickly opens up into giggles of delight—and an attempt to grab at her waist to hold on for dear life. “Pony go!”

The old wizard’s raspberry greeting is a real hit, too. Lee lets rip a peal of belly laughter, gasps for breath, and utters a “Peepaw.” that draws a chuckle and apology from Gabe.

“He thinks every man of a certain age is a grandfather. I don’t have the heart to correct him, and he might not understand anyway.” Toddler husbandry is still a very new enterprise for this inexperienced single father, full of mysteries and unexpected barriers along with the joys.

Gabe was about to ask Cavalia for permission to include her likeness in the frame with his son, but is thrilled to find she’s already striking a pose. “Okay if I get you in there too, Jonathan?”

With all of this attention being poured on Lee, the boy’s face glows like a little light bulb and Gabe’s job as photographer is made incredibly simple. He takes several shots, just to be sure this memory will be preserved properly, then turns the phone screen around with a grin of his own to show the centaur and the mage the product of their teamwork. He hands off the phone to Cavalia for an up-close inspection first, only because Jonathan’s hands are full of a little boy who is determined to pull him onto the ‘pony’s back, too (or else climb him like a tree.)

“You’re a real photogenic one, miss,” Gabe says to her, but his eyes are glued to the wily pup. Lifting his brows in a wordless question with his hands held out, he’s prepared to ‘save’ the older man if need be.