Ch: 180 A Hard Day’s Night

Dannyl was mostly able to move about the house when the sun came up. He was on his favorite stool with a plush cushion, playing his guitar in mellow variations on the theme of ‘Bolero’. It was nice to be back in the house, he decided.

Gary and Shai were in the kitchen doing that thing they do, swaying together and generally being too intimate. They had coffee and muffins already on the table when the rest of the crew started appearing, anyway.

#

“We’re gonna try that dual cultivation technique again, this time not on the boat. We’ll be on a nice safe lawn.” Gary told the family table, while the ladies of the wedding party were still in bed.

Amy fixed him with a disapproving look. “You’re full of ponies now, that’s a sponsitility! Your both sponsible for us and the ponies…” She pointed a spoon at them in an adorably menacing way.

“Thirp an Ducky too!” Rio Chimed in.

Wilf used that distraction to shuck his clothes and dash for the bath, running right past lady Jaspreet, Jennah and Tawny. They watched him streak by their table with amused expressions.

“It’s always so lively here…” Jaspreet sighed. “I would like my home to feel this way.” She said, as the other kids sprinted after Wilf, with Angie in lukewarm pursuit.

“I’m certain you will find the right balance for you…” Tawny replied mildly, amidst the chaotic scene. They watched the sad spectacle of Angie, trying to keep up with the little ones and sighed.

“Shai, we’ll have to send for Sonja before Angie is ready for duty.” She leaned close and spoke softly from her table, just for Becky and Shai. “The poor dear runs like Gary did, all elbows and knees.”

“I do think we could assay her treatment our own selves… tis more of a need fer movement training an practice.” Shai answered just as quietly.

“We’ll take her fer the dance again this evening. Luna’s spear dance will suit her well indeed.”

“Shai, I always worried that someday, you would meet a problem you couldn’t dance your way around or through… Then you met that silly boy.” Becky sighed.

“Aye, Now there be no problem I kinnae dance or slice intae a manageable shape, save that boy of mine…” She sighed fondly, watching him goof with the kids on the rug by the fire.

“It was a cockleburr monster, coming to tangle in our hair and make us shave our heads… Dannyl caught it while it was still building a villain lair…” Gary ruffled Wilford’s hair and ticked Amy as they rolled around like idiots.

“Now it’s the prisoner of ass in a can…” Gary looked thoughtful for a moment. “Huh. Kinda rhymes with the title of…”

At that moment, Rio came in off the top rope, which was the sofa, with a folding chair in hand. The role of folding chair, thankfully, was played by a sofa cushion. Gary caught it full across the face and sputtered in comic outrage, as cushions and pillows sprouted like mushrooms after an autumn rain.

“Here we go…” Becky moaned as chaos spread through the taproom.

Duchess Sheng’s troop was still in residence, so the house was crowded and busy to begin with.

The troop had been bunking in the taproom and roaming the town at leisure, when the Duchess did not need one of their number to accompany her. When she did require a ‘guardian’ that role fell largely to Angie, who relished the duty.

When a plush, blue and gold, dolphin body pillow sailed through the air at her grace, Angie leapt with newfound confidence and intercepted the attack. It blasted her aside with the violence of the smith woman’s throw, hurling her into a mound of bed pillows.

Grace Sheng, Duchess of Lemur was no tyro, she had grown up with a small swarm of younger brothers and sisters. A stack of small flat seat cushions became flying disks, hurtling Shai’s way at high speed.

The wily smith battered the weapons aside with a hastily summoned pillowsheild and went on the attack. In desperation, duchess Sheng reached for something, anything to defend herself…

Her hand fell to a plush spider, with a human torso and startlingly large bosoms. Nonplussed by her strange weapon, duchess Grace hesitated to hurl the odd thing and caught a lilac and lavender llama doll to the side of her head.

Lady Jaspreet crowed in victory, strutting before the dazed noblewoman and gloating. She nearly took a bed pillow in the guts from Luna, but lady Emma heroically interposed her body. “For the bride…” The stricken woman gasped, before curling up with a blanket to watch the rest of the ‘battle’ with the other fallen warriors.

“I should feel quite silly, cavorting about so… in this house, I find myself wondering what is wrong with feeling a little silly… from time to time.” Duchess Sheng remarked, from under a blanket with her guardian.

She was still clutching the strange spider doll, toying with it and marveling at the strange craft of it. No seams or stitches marked its soft furry shape, save where they were used to embellish or sculpt the thing.

Somehow it seemed to have come into being in the image of a cute and cuddly, spider-human hybrid with white fur, lightning bolt markings of gold and huge tits.

“Is this some local character from folklore? I think I might have seen it somewhere before…” Duchess Sheng asked, while holding out the doll to Angie and Becky, who had been inseparable for days now.

“That’s Thirp, Goddess of Secrets and hidden snares, weaver of threads and mistress of the hunt.” Becky answered with a smile. “If you wish to learn more, a few of her adherents can be found, if one knows where to look.”

“Really, Becky. One new god is enough to chew on, now you have another in your pocket?” She demanded.

“Welll…” Becky said with a smile. “You’ve met the dryads, Axio and Rocky… Eponna has been snuffling around, while Brigid and the Morrigan are already moving in the world. I think I spotted Cernunnos in the woods last night. I didn’t get a chance to talk to him, he’s shy.” Becky’s eyes darted around the room as she spoke, following the action.

It was down to Liam and Ivy, facing off with rolled up towels, trying to snap, while remaining unsnapped.

Like gladiators, they circled and feinted, seeking advantage or weakness. Ivy had a lightly moistened tea towel in each hand, twirling them dangerously as she circled Liam. The balanced and focused stance of the two warriors displayed the differences in their styles and the similarities.

Ivy was quick, acrobatic and lithe, while packing significant strength and enough skill to make it pay off. Her twintowel style offered unpredictable short to mid range offense, while giving a potent defense.

Liam had a single bath towel, dampened on one corner. If he struck true, the weal of raised flesh it would leave was a true finishing move. Liam kept on the balls of his feet, shuffling in and out of range, trying to bait Ivy out of position. He took a half stumble, when his foot landed on a round brocade pillow with golden tassels.

Ivy lunged, realizing too late she had been baited. The barefoot warrior monkey toed his stumbling pillow, right into Ivy’s face as she lunged, her twintowels snapping on empty air. Already knowing it was too late, she whirled and came around, into a bed pillow directly across her face.

“Liam stands victorious.” In a breathy and deeply offensive imitation of the local upper crust accent, Gary instructed Amy and the boys; from a throne of tiny cushions. He was wearing a robe that seemed to be sewn together from a legion of plush toy animals. “Pillowmaiden, bring him his laurels… Scepterboys, present him the rod of silliness. So says the Pillowking.”

With great ceremony and pomp, the three tiny children marched over to Liam. Amy bore a golden pillow, holding a plush crown of green felt laurel leaves, embellished in gold and silver thread. The two boys carried a gilt scepter of wood, with a red velvet cushion at its top. Golden tassels dangled from the four corners of the silly thing, giving it a martial seeming. If one wished to lead an army of playful cartoon kittens.

Liam bowed low, to accept his awards from the tiny kids with humility.

With savage grins, they drew small plush animals from concealment in their robes and began viciously pummeling the poor man around the head and shoulders.

“I fight only for the glory of the Pillowking.” Liam moaned gravely, as he slumped to the carpet.

“So be it…” Gary droned in his ridiculous accent. “Come to me, my children, my own true heirs…” The little monsters scampered back to him, Amy wearing the crown and the boys carrying that pillow mace. His face took on a comical expression of fear, as the tiny terrors closed in, still holding their plushie assassination tools grimly.

They lunged at him, felt daggers and fluffy weapons shining, as scarlet sequins bloomed where they struck the boy. “No… wait! I am betrayed!” He cried as he fell, conjured scarves of red gauze spreading from his slumped form.

“It really feels like there is a lesson in that somewhere…” Julius Rumel muttered with a smile, from the doorway. Kemal Singh leaned on the doorframe behind his duke, giggling foolishly.

When the crowd turned back to the room, everything was back in order, as though nothing untoward had occurred… save that many guests were seated on pillows on the floor and the kids still held their trophies.

“Jules! Kerm! Welcome back!” Gary cheered from his elaborate pillowfort in the corner.

“I’m putting down a local rebellion at the moment, so pardon me while I paddle the naughty children.”

Gary hunkered down in his fabric fastness, while the kids laid siege, hurling small pillows and stuffed toys over his restful ramparts from a miniature trebuchet he’d conjured just for the purpose. He would appear in the damask curtained windows from time to time, making declarations of pillow law, to infuriate the rebels.

“I hereby declare a snacktax, all snacktime treats must be sampled by the royal taster first. Furthermore, all naps must be scheduled in advance. So says the Pillowking!”

The kids let their outrage be known, in pillows and stuffed toys, pelting the pillow palisade with plush punishment.

“No Justice, No Peace!” Amy and Rio shouted.

“No Broccoli, No Peas!” Wilf chanted, just off tempo.

#

“I received the most interesting invitation this morning…” Julius said with a smile, watching Gary and the kids entertain themselves over in the corner.

“From a local craftswoman of high repute… I find the offer compelling, but would rather avoid any awkward entanglements…” The Young duke failed utterly to make his point, while using a goodly supply of words.

“No one will be offended if you accept Jennah’s invitation. We hold to the forms of tradition, more than the spirit of it in Wheatford.” Tawny announced firmly. “I plan to attend, as do my parents and many of my siblings.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“I too, will attend, for what that is worth, young Julius.” Grace murmured warmly. “Perhaps you would escort a young widow to the ‘pool party’?” Her smile and easy self confidence were calculated to rattle the young lord, provoking him into an immediate decision.

The tremulous young man, unsure in his next step, became someone else in the blink of an eye. Duke Julius Rummel smiled warmly at his peer and bowed just a little too low, making the gesture sassy and provocative, rather than subservient. His winning smile and chiseled good looks shone radiantly from the common clothes that now draped him like ill fitting fancy dress, seeming an affectation.

“It would be an absolute pleasure, Grace. I am at your service… it would be a profound delight to escort you.”

Gary and the kids dropped their pillowswords and stared in wonder at the stranger in their friend’s clothes.

“Wow, he could be a movie star…” Amy whispered.

“X factor.” Wilf said firmly. “Star Power.”

“The cougar just found out her prey is a hunter…” Dannyl whispered from his comfy chair. “Let the games begin.” His long, wicked giggle trailed off in a pained gasp.

“Ouch… I gotta cultivate my villain laugh.”

#

“I am trying to run a duchy under siege, this is not a pillow fight for silly trophies, Vera.” Duke Belen grumbled. “None of these creatures can even speak, once their master’s controlling will is severed. They are little better than violent animals. I hesitate to give the order to take no prisoners…” He sighed.

“Let us rather say, I don’t want my people put at risk, trying to capture these people. The rest I leave to your judgment.”

“About Shaheen…” Vera began.

“I am satisfied with your resolution. If he will not reconcile himself to your authority over him, you will simply have to invite him into the court of War.” Leo grumbled.

“Wheatford is at war with an inscrutable enemy. If he wishes to challenge your authority, War allows for that eventuality.”

“If house Shaheen…” She began again, speaking softly.

“I cannot protect their house from the stupidity of their own scion. If Shaheen has complaints, they can see me. Courage runs deep in that family, perhaps too deep to spot, at the moment.” Leo raised his hand calmly.

“If you see Shaheen, or his family try to cause trouble for my children or their affairs, step in, then notify me. I am done with their foolishness.” He stood and stretched with a wide grin.

“I have new lands to distribute and old families to revive. This should shake things up nicely, there are a few rotten limbs in this orchard, time to cut the dead wood and burn what’s rotten.” He paused at the doorway.

“Tell your grandfather to come by. I could use his wisdom. Shai’s boy gave me a selection of ‘spirits’ to try, along with some of Liam’s delightful herb, If his duke’s company is not inducement enough.”

“Your grace, you know how he feels about coming to the palace, especially now. With so many nobles guesting, I fear he will not come.” Vera sighed.

“Very well, he can meet me at Tawny’s inn…”

Vera shook her head sadly. “War commands that we avoid conflict with him at all cost. Grandfather will only approach him on official clerical business.”

“I bet Mubarak doesn't have these problems…” Leopold grumbled when he closed the door after himself.

#

“I can’t wear that, certainly not in public! The scandal!” Mubarak scoffed. Jaspreet was menacing him with a pair of pale, cream colored linen shorts and a square bottomed, short sleeved shirt in the same fabric, embellished with abstract indigo blue scrollwork embroidery.

“They call this a guayabera, it’s considered formal wear in some places!” She insisted with a smile.

“Not where I come from!” He insisted right back.

“You haven’t even seen what I’m wearing to Jennah’s party…” Jaspreet crooned musically in his ear, while holding the costume against his body, appraisingly.

“Perhaps I’ll give you a peek…”

Her brief ‘peek’ at her attire for the party, led to other matters arising…

#

An hour later, Mubarak stepped out of his suite in the palace, dressed in a light linen ensemble suitable for a casual gathering of elegant folk on a warm spring evening. “This is rather comfortable… Hey!” He scolded when she stepped into view from the attached parlor. “That’s not what you showed me earlier!” He muttered with a rakish grin.

Her long white summer dress and lace shawl was the picture of conservative and exotic simplicity, she drifted over the carpet, like a forest spirit composed of mist and thistledown, her light dress billowing at the hem.

“The ladies will change at the event, of course… it’s a pool party!” She scolded him, as though this were not some fanciful new thing.

“I’d be willing to bet Leopold doesn’t have to put up with this kind of thing…” Abed grumbled

#

“I’m wearing WHAT?” Leopold barked, sharply.

“This is the traditional attire of the place little Rio comes from.” Celeste answered calmly.

“Oh, in that case…” Duke Belen muttered. “It does look cool and breezy.”

#

A parade of carriages disgorged the nobles at the orphanage gate. The dress code had been described as ‘extremely casual’ on the invitations, but no few robes of golden brocade and elaborate design appeared.

The only thing shining brighter than countess Mitziela Fellton’s marvelous collar of spun gold, was her shining, sweating face.

When the bride whisked by in a gown that screamed ‘sensual summer ease and comfort’, She mentally cursed her dressing maid.

‘Extravagance is always in style, Hemina said…’ She thought bitterly. “Style, is always in style… that’s the first rule…” She whispered to herself.

There was nothing for it, a warrior rides to battle in the armor she has, wielding what weapons she may. She strode into the Adventure compound, mentally prepared to face anything.

#

Jennah was holding court among the seamstresses and tailors by the pool. “I have already filed patents and letters of intent with the Craft Association, the Smallclothier’s guild and the League of Underwearsmen.” She said with utter confidence.

“We will be the first and only chartered lingerie and swimwear guild. Our sweet nothings will conquer the world, one sexy backside at a time. I’ll let you enjoy the evening, then you can decide whether to join me, compete with me, or stick to boring old clothing.”

She stood, took just a moment adjusting her long, gauzy gown and nearly danced away with a soft cry.

“Oh, excuse me, more guests are arriving!”

The journeymen, masters and mistresses of Wheatford’s textile trade watched helplessly as the bold, confident and talented young woman greeted a collection of lords and ladies at the bath facility gate, as though they were dear old friends come home at last.

Suddenly it all began to make sense… the pavilion with an assortment of her latest crafts in a wide array of sizes and neutral colors, the changing rooms scattered around on the lawn where individuals or small groups could adjust their attire… the small swarm of orphans wearing the gray aprons of apprentices with lace spiderweb stitched in gleaming white silk.

“Aranea’s Secret… odd name for a guild, but the girl has a sense for the trade.” Old Yasmeen, the venerable mistress of the Tailors’ and Seamstresses’ guild, chuckled. “Jump on and take the ride, or watch as that boat sails off without you.” She hopped up and wandered over to the pavilion speaking to her doting great granddaughter, young Yasmeen.

“I must confess, a form fitting garment for swimming sounds helpful… I‘m an old lady, things flap about now. You’ll understand someday.”

The wedding party walked to the orphanage, strolling in the warm afternoon sunshine as a group. Tawny led the procession draped in a robe of pale, golden gauze that suggested she was wearing very little, while revealing nothing untoward in public. The rest of the noble ladies and most of their entourage and personal attendants were similarly attired, in flowing gowns, clearly meant to be cast aside and it appeared, not much more.

The strange and sexy procession was followed by the local crazies from the inn by the water, so most of the townsfolk shrugged and went back to their business.

The gossip minded, found ways to escape and follow their bliss, all the way to the orphanage gate. Old Volodimir had the gate duty, he stopped the curious and nosey with a raised hand and a smile. “Invitation only, citizens… you can only go in as guests of the Aranea’s Secret Guild, if this young lady approves your attire.”

A teenage girl with a measuring tape around her neck and a gray apron embroidered with a silvery lace spiderweb stood by a small tent. “Step right up if you wish to attend… I’ll have you fitted out in a moment.” She smiled radiantly at the small group of curious men and women.

“The sweet tooth guild is catering the party… the buffet looked exquisite.” She murmured offhandedly.

Colette found herself very busy indeed, enjoying this power she held over the staid, upright citizens of fair Wheatford.

“Oh, you are a bunch of sexy darlings!” She cooed at the townsfolk, once they were properly arrayed in her arts.

To be fair, in a world with magic, it was pretty unsurprising that the general appearance skewed toward ‘hot’, or ‘smokin hot’, since people’s gifts and abilities reflected their natural desires and attitudes. There were a lot of charisma and physical fitness gifts floating around, even with most people remaining unranked or iron rank at best. The magicalness was keeping things on the sexy side of the street.

True cultivators were rare indeed, they broke all the rules… Naiomi and Otho were swanning through the crowd, looking godsdamned sexy, espescially for people in their mid to late three hundreds. She had filled out from the skeletal old crone Gary had first met, to an attractive older woman with sparkling eyes and… Gary slapped himself to shake the thought out of his head. Regardless, she managed to fill her one piece out quite nicely.

Otho was having a blast, he’d spotted Dannyl’s ‘banana hammock’ and had to have one. The old coot was high stepping around the pool with Naiomi, gladhanding and generally making everyone uncomfortable with their superdupercenterian sexiness.

Plumeria strolled by in a ribbon bikini and a wide floppy hat, looking like a movie starlet on the riviera. Her natural glamor layering some very mortal seeming charms, over the enchantments and craft of her simple puppet body. She watched the old couple flitter around, smiling with amusement.

“Those two are enjoying themselves… Young people…” She sighed happily, leaning on Axio’s arm.

He was in his new form, a white, chubby, happy looking anthropomorphic, gilled salamander creature, walking on his hind legs, with a thick, stubby tail behind him. He was wearing bright blue boardshorts, the backside slit open to accommodate his tail.

As his homeland reverted back to fertile and living soil, he had changed with it once again. He became the embodiment of his still, upland waterways and the creatures that dwelt there…

“Oh, no way. Axio! You’re an Axolotl… ok that was obvious in hindsight.” Gary cheered, when his friends came in from the garden together. “Plumeria! Looking sexy!”

“Why thank you, young Gary, you seem much improved since last we met… Most of that stench of unlife has cleared away.”

“I had a breakthrough in counseling. My shrink is the best.” He gabbled cheerfully.

“Hush, boy. This is a party and Thirp wishes to enjoy every moment of it. You go play your music, while we take this in…”

That was when Gary noticed the cunningly wrought jumping spider hair ornament she wore among the plum blossoms in her hair. It bobbed on its many knees and waved at him in a familiar way.

“Thirp?” Gary gasped with joy.

“She is just a glamor projection, this way, she can observe and enjoy the party without causing a stir.” Plumeria whispered. “Speaking of causing a stir…” She whispered excitedly, as she looked around the busy poolside garden.

“It is a little known secret that dryads thrive on the dreams of mortal men. Something about the way your kind sees us is very titillating and thrilling.” She turned on a group of men in surf trunks, chatting awkwardly and watching the women circulate freely.

“Run along, I have some men to gently seduce into dreaming of me.” She breezed by, her diminutive, perfect form trailing the scent of warm amber and plum blossoms in spring.

“Gentlemen…What do you think of this new fashion?” She asked in a sultry tone that said she already knew.

#

It was a very distracting last minute gig. Gary and the band got on the low stage by the roundhouse and started on some easy blues progressions, just to warm up the crowd.

He’d never played a fashion show, but a musician he’d done a lot of repairs for had.

Rocketboy’s bass player Rodney, was talented, but brutal on his instrument… also super poor. He’d play a show, damage something, usually ripping out the jack or smashing a couple tuning machines. He’d buy the parts and drive up the coast highway to stay with his folks and hunt up Gary, to repair his ax on the cheap.

Rodney would set Gary up in a motel and take him out to eat three meals a day, until the job was done. A few times, he’d slept on Rodney’s garage couch, when the older man’s folks were out of town.

Whenever they met up, he would tell stories of playing avant garde parties and underground fashion shows. Stories that had kept young, crippled, homeless Gary up nights, tossing and turning.

Now it was all playing out in front of him. People of leisure, wearing leisure wear, drinking colorful cocktails of his own brewing and distilling arts. Snacking on tiny tidbits crafted, in large part, under his direct instigation.

The chocolaterie alone was a huge driver of the happy party people, party situation. Ivy was still holding the cordial cherries in reserve for Jaspreet’s reception; those things were dangerous.

Shai was down on the dance floor, in her swimsuit, with a gauzy shawl of green around her hips, accenting her chimes and charms. She drifted like colorful smoke with Becky and Ivy, dressed similarly in their colorful naughties.

Dannyl was up and playing, but the dance floor was still a few days of recovery away. Liam took frequent breaks to twirl his lady around the dance floor. They were always a spectacle when they danced, today was no different.

Tawny was thriving under the tutelage of Shai and Dannyl, mastering the many peasant dances, with their intricate and thrilling steps. Then she turned to learning some of the strange steps from Gary’s home. Her Lindy Hop was much more confident now, as was her Madison and Foxtrot.

They shared a long, dreamlike evening of music, food, dance and drink, under the watchful eye of a strange, bright green moon. It seemed to fix the gathering with its lambent stare, drifting below the silver orb that most folk saw.

#

Thirp lounged back in her web hammock, while Marduk and Eponna canoodled on a sofa of their own.

“So humans have always swum without clothing and need no clothing when sleeping in proper bedding… why then, start this whole craft of special clothing, for these very purposes for which no clothing is needed?” The equine goddess asked softly, toying with Marduk’s golden curls idly.

“Because it’s sexier.” Thirp explained patiently. “Just as you hide your body in your mane, clothing yourself by human tradition, though you need not, for any real reason. It’s sexier.”

“Really?” She asked, mystified by this revelation. She stood, leaving Marduk on the couch and faced the tiny god. “So, is it true? Which is sexier? With?” She asked, indicating her long, flowing gown of starlight and nebulae, where it hugged her so close that he took a shallow gulp to moisten the divine throat, suddenly gone dry.

“Or without?” She demanded, facing the tiny god’s gaze with supreme confidence.

Her ‘gown’ drifted away, trailing off behind her, on some unfelt solar wind from beyond, revealing her smooth, lissome body to his eyes… Every curve and mound was perfect, her skin was coated in the faintest velvet fuzz, so soft and delicate… No doubt only divine senses could even detect it, were one to trail one’s immortal fingers over those supple plains and hills…

“Well, Ducky? Shall I don my gown or take my ease with you, as I am?” She demanded gently, as The Immortal Light Of Man’s Wisdom, was having a very mortal reaction.

“Umm… err… I…” He answered with a stupid smile Thirp had learnt to recognise.

“Lord Marduk… are you tumescent? Are you experiencing an ‘erection’?” She asked in clinical excitement. “Let me look!”

The tiny god stood up, clutching the front of his diaphanous robes and tried to scamper for it, while super obviously pitching a tent. “You are both bad friends!” He sulked.

“At least I’ve already learnt how to manage this ‘condition’.” He grumbled, while heading for the dark, curtained room where Gary kept his smut.

#

“Be careful wi that, lad! Tis so hard a cat couldn’t scratch it!” Shai giggled, when he released her lips from his, for a moment. “Ye are fully heated up tonight!”

“Baby, tonight hit all my switches and buttons…” He growled hungrily. “Now come here…”

Shai squeaked in delight, as he wrapped his arms around her and took control.

#