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 Posted: Wed Dec 26, 2012 12:10 am
The Golden Mendicant
Who?
Wickwright Finch, Hopkin (kotaline) & Adal (Zanaroo)
When?
November 1412. February 1413
Where?
Thorn, Auvinus.
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Posted: Sat Dec 29, 2012 12:28 am
The third day from Hopkin and Wickwright's arrival in Thorn found Toure pacing like a caged animal, leaving even Wickwright with his long, loping strides, in his wake. Gravesend had promised that, if he was alive, he would return on this day, and the anticipation made the air tense between the three men of bone who found themselves waiting. Toure could not stand it. Sherbrooke was more circumspect, patiently sitting by the door of their shelter and hugging his knees, occasionally looking up at Wickwright as if he might speak, but choosing instead to let his eyes wander in a different direction, as though he merely meant to look around the room all along. Between the pair of them they drove Wickwright mad, so he acquitted himself from the house to seek his own reprieve from the suspense and silence, opting instead to explore the rest of Thorn.
For Wickwright, the relative freedom was a considerable relief, but for Hopkin it was nothing short of a blessing. Hopkin's nights were plagued by strange Auvinian nightmares from the True World, while his days were nothing but tedious hiding seasoned with anxiety. To be able to remove himself from the deeper hiding of the book bag and situate himself in Wickwright's hood was a rare pleasure, and to at least see the town he had been carried through for three days somewhat sated his terrible curiosity. Thorn was a better place than most they had traveled through in Auvinus. A safer place, and Hopkin was glad for it, having found that upon entering the southern country, there was nothing he missed moreso than Imisus. Even Shyregoed with its snow and ice and isolation had offered him mobility at least.
Hopkin's joy, however, was Wickwright's headache, and he soon found that while he had escaped the unbearable tension that Gravesend's fledglings were busily fostering as they fretted, he had instead unleashed a stream of continuous commentary that he had not been subject to since they left Imisus. Hopkin had kept his thoughts to himself for too long, and now had something to say about everything, from the Jawbone Men they kept company with, to the stories they had heard in Thorn, to the price of fish in the market, to the appearance of passersby (most of whom he found fault with).
"Ah, that boy--!."
"Strewth, Hopkin, can we not lay it to rest? The last woman heard you say there was too much of her!"
But Hopkin was not listening, was leaning dangerously over the edge of the hood, intent upon some figure out of Wickwright's line of sight. "Wickwright Finch," he hissed urgently, "That boy is the guard from the Emperor's meeting!"
"The sickly one?" asked Wickwright sharply, and Hopkin shook his head.
"I have spent many hours memorizing this face, Wickwright Finch. He is the locos guardsman who worked with Armaud the trickster, and he is conducting his business in Thorn. Oh, Auvinus breeds nothing but chaos!"
Hopkin's lament was lost, for almost as soon as the boy had been identified, Wickwright had scanned the crowd for plagues, and as soon as his gaze alighted upon one, an anhelo, rare enough, he had made a beeline towards it. Putting up his hood and causing Hopkin to stumble inside it, he elbowed his way through the milling crowd and descended upon the boy. A smile was forced upon his face, as he asked, "Young man! Have you turned your mind to religion lately?"
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Posted: Thu Jan 03, 2013 2:22 pm
When asked where the Council was willing to give Adal sanctioned living commodities in Auvinus, everyone answered quite tiredly that Thorn was the best place. The Locos disagreed thoroughly in staying so near to the border, but Georgie begged him endlessly to stay, so stay he did, as one of the more ungracious and ungrateful guests a charitable scientist could ask for. Were the scientist himself not a curious member of the Plagueology community, Adal might have been asked to leave as soon as he'd entered.
Still, one thing Adal maintained at doing well was running errands, and to the behest of his host he was sent flitting around Thorn doing mindless tasks: scoping out for the evening's meal and sending wholehearted regards to previous partners of many scientific endeavors. As a reward, the Plagueologist kindly offered him references to several other Plagueologists willing to house a lonesome Plague around many kingdoms, and exactly one well-written letter to whomever had the fortune of having Adal as a host.
So, somewhat enthusiastically, Adal was able to accomplish the chores at hand and return to the Council headquarters fairly early. Thorn was no quiet place, but it was certainly spacious, unlike the narrower and more concentrated cities in Mishkan or Imisus. His quiet stroll, however, was instantly dismayed by an elderly man bumrushing towards him.
"Young man! Have you turned your mind to religion lately?"
The Locos frowned indignantly at the man. As it were, he reeked heavily of Plague.
"I haven't exactly turned my mind to something I've already been drowned in, no," Adal spat, gleaning his attention from the man's face to elsewhere, "There is, of course, no use in hiding it: I have no interest in Panymisian. It's not a particualrly inviting thing to be of for a Plague."
He smiled up at Wickwright, "Then again, I'm sure a man of many eras would know how to spot a Plague when there is one, yes? Perhaps you talk of another faith."
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Posted: Thu Jan 03, 2013 3:04 pm
"Only a man of five eras, thank you," said Wickwright, who was well aware that the Finch men in stories were young and that he was no longer anything like so sprightly, and looked older than he was to boot. "And a man of religion, though not of Panymisian, as you assumed." He could see the Plague fully now and he was sure that from within his hood, Hopkin was struggling to see him as well. "I have an interest in Plagues and their well-being, and my faith is one which thinks differently than the Panymisians." He found wording his sentiments to be difficult. It was easier to handwave Hopkin's outbursts to a human, who might not naturally suspect a mendicant as old and harmless as he was to be a Grimm, but to a Plague the association would come far more naturally, and this Plague had already seen, maybe even heard Hopkin before. If he outright lied, he was sure to hear something from inside his hood, and he would rather avoid the risks. It was easy enough to be cryptic. If the boy thought he was Obscuvian, it would be sensible enough to hide it in a place like Thorn.
"You say you're already drowned in faith, though, my friend? A peculiar choice of words, unless you refer to a particularly passionate baptism! Am I talking to a fellow mendicant after all, or a layman with a mind for religion?" He gestured about him, remarking, "This Council town has little room for gods besides the ones that give them funding. Don't you think it strange for faith to be bought and sold?"
Within Wickwright's hood, the sound of the Anhelo's voice was unmistakable. That was the Plague from the meeting, and Hopkin gave a tug on the fabric of the garment to let Wickwright know. Even Hopkin had no desire to be noticed by an ally of Armaud, and so he was uncharacteristically silent and still, leaning against Wickwright's back so that he might be better hidden. Oh, he should have stayed in the book bag! He was much less obtrusive there.
At the very least, Wickwright was here beside him, he figured. In the King's halls, he had been alone with homines leves, and it had been deeply perturbing to see their foolishness. In the hands of a Jawbone Man, he was more sure of his security.
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Posted: Thu Jan 03, 2013 3:45 pm
"Were I graced with such a hefty baptism, I'm afraid I'd simply reek of cultist," Adal muttered, lifting his head, "Of course, that's not what I speak of, though I'm familiar with the smell of the House. I'm so used to tracking down those filthy scoundrels, of course, as a Guardsman." He stared at Wickwright-- he didn't smell strongly of anything leaning towards Obscuvan, which usually meant the musk of opiates, or crow, or their own strange denomination of anointing. After so many seasons of having to scope out members of that creed, Adal was only close of certain that Wickwright wasn't a follower himself, though finding that out took further nagging.
"Alas, you don't carry the smell yourself. I'm grateful: the man I'm staying with is a Council scientist, and for his protection, I might have you sent to the Imperial headquarters for trial," he looked towards the Council headquarters, a miniature duplicate of the one in Gadu, "I must be off, though. I'm needed at the Council. A final word: I may be no mendicant, nor a layman, but I feel that the buying and selling of religion is its most useful function. It will take both divine intervention and a clever god to trick the Council into both fortune and respectability, even though the Guard has devoted so much of its time to aid it. Unfortunate, is it not?"
Adal folded his hands behind his back and continued walking onwards, "Farewell, and a good day to you both."
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Posted: Thu Jan 03, 2013 4:42 pm
"Is the military sending Plagues to deal with Obscuvians these days?" Wickwright asked with a grin. "Strewth, that's a bit like sending cadavers to deal with Sir Erasmus. Are you so loyal that you are not troubled by the fact that the Cult values plagues more highly than your own superiors do? Or are you bought and sold as the Council is?"
He shrugged. "It takes more than gods to measure the success of man, and if you choose to believe in something, it's far better to believe in a way which does not disguise your misfortune as punishment and your victories as rewards. Even the vessel of Panyma suffers these days, and the only specter we can be certain of haunting the Council is Diefendorf's ghost. I am as true to my god as any mendicant could be, but my faith is faith in hard work! But I suppose that all old men complain that the young do not work so hard as they should," he admitted, waving a hand idly. "A Plague, for instance, might find hard work does not get him so far when more people fear him than need him. For such a one, miraculous gods and influential employers are seductive."
Internally he cursed, because the little s**t wasn't buying it, but his dissembling was crippled with Hopkin on his back, and he was certain that in this particular case, it was being crippled in more ways than one. As a traveling mendicant, Wickwright wasn't exactly fragrant, but this Plague's peculiar fixation with smell meant that he might detect an undercurrent of disease under the generous helping of Tristram that usually hovered around his person. The Plague's farewell clinched his suspicions, but he was not particularly upset to see him go. He had seen enough to get Hopkin to confirm if this was the same Plague who met them at the meeting. Surely he owed nothing more to the Council than a letter to Dr. Kempe informing him that this Plague was in Thorn and claiming to be in the employ of the Council. However, Hopkin had other ideas, and upon the Anhelo's dismissal, without consulting Wickwright, he shrilled,
"Be still!"
Wickwright, more out of habit than any hope of disguising it by now, began to cough fervently.
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Posted: Fri Jan 04, 2013 12:10 am
Adal stewed in his own silence as he paced all the more eagerly away from the codger and his familiar scent. Were he not looking for something in particular, he would have stopped to continue their unfavorable discourse, but at last it was the small voice that won his gamble and his reattentions over. Of course.
He remained in place, frozen still like a statue at Hopkin's mewl of a commands. Adal looked to the side tentatively then turned back to the mendicant with a simple spin of his heels, looking a painful degree of both bemused and terribly condescending. Adal narrowed his eyes at the coughing Wickwright.
"Say that I am bought and sold, and have a tendency to cause fear: there are always reasons behind why that might be, even if you must think it replaced. Tell me, why did you find it remotely necessarily to hide a Plague, man of five eras?"
The Loco straced over Wickwright's features over and over again, trying to recall him from previous instances-- he'd met many Grimms during his lifetime, but rarely did he forget to record a face as soon as he'd met one. The only thing that seemed to ring with any hint of significance was that little metallic voice, shrill though it was.
Quietly, Adal added, "I know you from somewhere."
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Posted: Thu Feb 28, 2013 4:31 pm
"Old men all look the same," Wickwright said dismissively and loudly, just as a helpful but barely audible voice piped up "Helios," eager at least to dissociate himself from the events in the Emperor's audience chamber. "Perhaps you mistake me for your Grimm's great grandfather."
However, thanks to Hopkin's little word barf, his Grimmship had obviously been noticed, and there was little sense in hiding the fact of Hopkin's existence, though bringing him out of hiding could ruin things merely by virtue of his loquacious naivety. Wickwright debated trying to pass him off as an exceptionally bad throat bug and a complete lack of personal hygiene for a few seconds, but it was barely worth the effort. It wasn't like Hopkin stayed hidden long even in the best of circumstances, the damn Plague couldn't stay hidden to save his life.
Hopefully it would not come to that, at least. "I have my reasons not to trust one who is so bought and sold, and surely you have your reasons to distrust me, O Plague of many allegiances." He raised an eyebrow and folded his hands into his sleeves. "Do you introduce your Grimm to every nosy meddler you meet? It is not my policy to do so with my Plague."
Now that he was discovered, his voice came from the hood again. "Tell him Armaud is a terrible liar," it whined petulantly. Wickwright winced, whiching Hopkin would at least try to maintain some cover now that he had already blown he fact of his existence.
"There are some who would question your choice of business associates," he chose to remark, "Some believe that it is worth the substantial risk involved in saying so merely to inform a liar that he may be being lied to."
"He was going to leave," insisted Wickwright's hood.
"Some say that you were going to leave. What a terrible loss that would have been for us all," Wickwright commented drily.
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Posted: Mon Mar 25, 2013 11:27 pm
"I'm sorry," he began, louder than he should have, "My inexperience humbles me in front of a man such as yourself. Never am I the one to introduce my Grimm to someone else, but were he here, he would argue us peculiar things don't need much noticing to begin with. We are flaunting creatures, as you know."
It was in the Locos' best mind to keep silent and do as he previously cautioned to simply walk away. Rarely did he have the benefit of getting anywhere of use when talking to men with anything more than a peppery bed of hair, and to his misfortune, this Grimm had an equal weight of silver on his tongue as he did his scalp. Still, it was rare to find such ancient men roaming around with a Plague on his shoulders, so to speak, and Adal smiled narrowly when Hopkin interjected-- with every mewl it was easier to track the Excito, wherever it was.
"Ah, Armaud," he glanced bemusedly at Wickwright, his face dropping to a scowl with alarming spontaneity, "Of course. There's no reason for me to blame your distrust in me if our first meeting was in Helios, and though I can't correct you on my allegiance with many factions, let me tell you this:" he furrowed his brows sourly, "While there was reason for her being there, she and I are no longer allies or associates of any sort. This may be news to anyone without the distinct honor of having many allegiances-- her mistakes have cost her a damned life underneath the walls of Shyregoed.
"Must you have proof of my loyalties to the Empire, my freedom alone should be enough." Adal stepped back, grimly staring over Wickwright's shoulder. "Now, allow me to say thanks to your Plague as any man has God-given right to. If nothing else, it's him that's keeping me and this unappealing conversation in place."
The blond rustled briefly through his own satchel and took out a small book, brown and leatherbound, "Do that much, and I'll be sure to tell the plague doctor to cross you both off on the 'alive and well' list."
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Posted: Sun Apr 14, 2013 7:40 pm
"If you were involved as my Plague says you were, you must know where to allot the blame for that far better than I would," Wickwright replied archly. But for all his cheek, the anhelo's explanation seemed to have satisfied him for the time being. He had admitted his involvement, and Wickwright sincerely doubted that Armaud and her companions were as nefarious as Hopkin claimed they were: his Plague made demons of liars all too easily. "Nevertheless, were I the emperor, I would have acted differently, but the will of Panyma is a mystery to me, moreso than to most foolish old men, and certainly moreso than to noble youths who seem to identify righteous causes so easily."
At the words 'plague doctor', Wickwright's eyebrows raised, and indeed, a faint noise came from his hood, but Wickwright had laughed at the Grand Magus's pants and told Sir Kirkaldy what to do and made himself a thorn in O'Neill's side, so name-dropping the Plague Doctor meant as little to him as his own jabs had meant to the Plague in front of him. "You can see my excito, o Plague of many allegiances, but not here in broad daylight on the outskirts of Auvinus, and not for the promise of any Doctor knowing he's well, because as far as I'm concerned, the only doctors that have any business with this Plague are the councilmen I've affiliated myself with, and even then, I don't fancy that affiliation will be useful to me much longer." He pressed his hands together thoughtfully and decided, "If you return tomorrow, early in the morning, you may see him. I must depart for Helios, for my business here is almost concluded. I will show you him in Helios, if you will accompany me so far." He grinned, adding, "It's a long way simply to see a Plague. If you will humour an old, suspicious man, I will give you a gesture of goodwill."
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Posted: Mon Apr 15, 2013 4:12 pm
Adal pointed his journal to Wickwright indignantly, plainly cross. "If you were the emperor, you'd do the same as he did, if not with more righteousness, given your old age. Don't speak of Her mysterious will when you scarcely know anything of the situation, else I'll worry you're not the humbled mendicant you claim to be."
He straightened himself, though, and thought closely on what this man had to say. The Locos consequently drew his journal back into his satchel and crossed his arms, "Fine. I am nothing if not good at completing the errands given to me. If secrecy is what you need, then take my place in the Council sanction and I'll give you my teleportation services tomorrow morning, if you must go to Helios. We may both agree that it's the most efficient way, and we both have other places to be, with other more important affairs to tend to."
Adal offered a hand to Wickwright in gesture of their agreement, "If you will humor me in entertaining other old, suspicious men such as yourself in my place, your goodwill shall be met with mine," he paused, eyes narrowed, "Though, if you don't comply, don't thinK I won't find you in less convenient circumstances."
He smiled, brightly, "And your Plague shall wake, gone to the world until the Doctor's done his thorough research."
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Posted: Sun Apr 21, 2013 12:38 am
Wickwright raised his hands mildly. "May nothing but meekness come from my mouth! I'm nothing but an old and foolish mendicant, and if I knew the ways of kings and gods, I would have no need for religion at all. Forgive my crude way of thinking if it offends your faith. We mendicants often mull over the works of the divine, especially when we have no second for card games."
"That's a better sign of goodwill than I can offer," remarked Wickwright, "Although we shall have to bring my wagon, since I'm well nigh dead without it, as convenient as your teleportation tricks might be. As for my sign of goodwill," he thrust a spindly hand into his bag and drew out a quill, scribbling onto a small piece of parchment, which he handed to the anhelo. On it was a strange marking. "Show that at the place which is written on the reverse, and you will be allowed to meet me."
Just when the meeting was starting to turn up something useful, the Plague kept on with his threats. Wickwright considered how to reply, but knocking the boy's hat off his head (his gut instinct) was neither dignified of his age, nor was it a wise move now that things were coming together. Wickwright settled for an easy shrug. "I'm too old for threats, boy! No circumstance is so inconvenient as old age, not even the pestilence, now that your Doctor's made a Grimm out of me. And, truth, I have been wanting words with him anyway, because this whole business is damned inconvenient to be getting on with." Privately, however, the jibe needled him and he considered his chances of outmaneuvering the Doctor. Even for a Finch, he wouldn't bet money on it.
Hopkin, if he had heard the threat, paid it little heed. The more immediate threat of teleporting yet again caused a small, distressed wail to escape his tinny mouth. Oh! It was bad enough the first time!
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Posted: Sat Jul 06, 2013 1:15 am
Adal tensed at the mention of his faith, but made no remark of it. He figured the man was indeed telling the truth when it came to being a mendicant, but he certainly made it unclear from which faith he came from, which made things frustrating for him-- he couldn't even tell if the elder was Obscuvian or not, else Adal would have drawn on looser strings throughout their merry little discourse.
The Locos huffed, "You mustn't be so wise in the magical arts, then. I can teleport you alongside your wagon, if you wish, and anyone else you may be traveling with, and the consequence will be only mine to bear. And I don't much mind it, so long as Thorn is out of my hair for a while."
He waited for Wickwright to finish writing, then snatched the paper from him impatiently. He studied the paper a few times over, only to find it unfamiliar; he sniffed the surface of the parchment and noticed no hint of an Obscuvian still. He flipped the paper over at the mention of an address, "What is your symbol from? The smell tastes of bone. How unpleasant. But I'll do as you say, so long as you come with me to my guardian at the Council so he knows that my leave is purposeful."
Adal slid the parchment into his satchel as if Wickwright had agreed on this end already, and shrugged in a mocking way at his pithy response to an otherwise petty threat; the man was either cocky or he was a deft gambler, given the unusually reserved response he'd given in light of the Doctor. He extended his hand outward to Wickwright, grinning halfheartedly in his confidence, "It's only inconvenient should you make it so. You had the privilege of throwing it away, like many others. But many choose not to out of pride, desperation, or both, and now you may do business with me as one of inaction's many consequences," he turned to the uneasy Hopkin, as if to formally greet him first, "My name is Adal Malt. What is yours?"
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Posted: Sat Jul 20, 2013 4:30 pm
"I'll gladly be introduced to your guardian. I'm a Councilman myself," Wickwright agreed. "A small consequence to pay for inaction. So long as his tongue is less sharp than yours, I'd say it would hardly be a consequence at all. As for my little scribble, it needs no introduction. Just a doodle between mendicant friends, surely you have such markings so one may recognize another."
The back of his head dourly offered, "Smells cannot taste of things."
As the Plague, Adal Malt, introduced himself, Hopkin whispered the name in Wickwright's hood, and found it to be innocuous for such a worrisome figure. Wickwright said the name aloud, and grinned.
"Adal Malt. Wickwright Finch," he bowed, his robes sweeping forward, while Hopkin sank deeper into his hood and squeaked, "Hopkin!" from the back of his head, trying not to slip out.
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Posted: Sun Jul 21, 2013 9:12 pm
Adal offered an disingenuous smile in return at the Grimm and Plague's combined statements-- Wickwright's was too generous, and Hopkin's too disenchanting. The Locos took no time to ruminate further, though, and bowed in return to the old mendicant.
"Wickwright Finch and Hopkin. A pleasure," He sidestepped away from the Finch man and marched onward towards the Council. It was already late afternoon, and the sun was setting past the wall of the Council base at a hastened pace, which annoyed the Locos greatly.
"I suppose we'll have to make do with staying with the Council of Sciences for the night-- they don't often allow for late teleportations between countries. We'll leave early in the morning," he glanced at Wickwright, "You will fetch your wagon while I prepare. If you have any steeds with you, I pray they're trained."END
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