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Gedditoff!

Tags: Torebras,  Nob

Short Summary: Torebras has a most unpleasant nature encounter, much to the consternation of a passing hobbit-mother and child ...
Date (real-life): 2011-07-21
Scene Location: Shire: Stock Road
Date (in-game): June 3053 (1453)
Stock Road

The peaceful wood grows deeper here, the trees encroaching on the path, their branches forming a canopy above. Off in the distance you hear a couple of birds whistling to each other. They seem to you almost like two distinct voices performing a duet and you stop to listen for a while. First one calls out then the other responds and then the first calls out again. A small rustling in the underbrush near you startles you out of your daydream. However it turns out to be nothing but a couple of squirrels running playfully along the path. As you take in this breathtaking scene you smell the sweet aroma of the many wildflowers that grow in these woods and off in the distance you swear you can hear a babbling brook.

The road continues east and west as far as the eye can see.

Obvious exits:
 South leads to Pincup.
 West leads to Stock Road, Outside Tuckborough.
 East leads to Stock Road.

================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================

RL (Arizona) Time is Wed Jul 20 14:50:13 2011 (+time).

IC Time is 12:30:39 on Wednesday, Forelithe (June) 22, 1453 S.R.

IC Weather Conditions:
The sky is filled with white clouds; rain could well be on the way. The air is cool for the time of year, and the northwesterly winds do little to help.

---

The morning is wending on toward lunchtime, and most sensible hobbits are scurrying homeward by now ready for their midday repast. The northwesterly breeze has started to get up, rustling the leaves and hurrying travellers on their way. Not quite /all/ travellers, though. It was really rather warm earlier in the day, which perhaps explains the rotund figure lying down at the base of a tree, a blanket spread out beneath him and his feathered hat over his face. The feather itself quivers vigorously back and forth, for from beneath the concealing item of headwear comes rhythmic, regular snoring.

[Nob(#16122)] It is a very enticing feather. Quivering like that. Bobbing up and down. One small hobbit lass lags behind her mother, staring wide-eyed and enthralled. She creeps nearer and nearer, while her mother goes on down the road chatting away comfortably to no one at all.

It really /is/ quite enticing. As the little hobbit-lass approaches, does the feather start quivering a little more violently? Hard to say really, might just be a breath of wind. The gentle snoring continues ...

The gentle snoring stops. In its place a sudden scream as the hands of the (former) sleeper reach up to claw at his face. "Gedditoff!" he wails. "Gedditoff me!"

[Nob(#16122)] The little girl reaches out a hand to touch the soft feather, then jerks it back and shrieks when the man has a sudden seizure right then and there! "Mumsy!" she wails, and the hobbit lady looks down, and then turns around in horror. "What are you doing to my baby!" she shouts, hurrying back.

That question doesn't receive a ready answer, for the panicked hobbit-gentleman is coughing and choking, arms flailing wildly. Eventually he manages to knock the feathered hat away into the mud. The features thus revealed are round, red and shiny with sweat, and belong to one Torebras Bywater. He stares into the hat, then starts feeling at his face and then loosening his collar. "It's still there!" he gasps. "I felt it crawling .... Get - it - off!" Flustered as he is, he looks less the gentlehobbit and more the lunatic.

[Nob(#16122)] The child is staring at him, her eyes wide, gulping. A few tears make tracks down her round cheeks. Her mother takes in the situation at a glance and rolls her eyes. "A caterpillar most like," she says unsympathetically. "Honestly. A man your age!"

Torebras is not listening. He squirms, shudders, fumbles with buttons, moaning softly all the while. Then he gives up and tears blindly at his snowy-white linen shirt. And then at last, the object of his panic and the reason for the profusion of birdlife become apparent as something long and many-legged follows the hat onto the ground, where it squirms indignantly for a moment before righting itself and crawling under the nearest leaf.

[Nob(#16122)] The bug is of far greater interest to the little girl than that crazed old man, and she squats down picking up the edge of the leaf and peering underneath eagerly.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," scolds the mother, unceasingly. "You can't tell me you're frightened of /bugs/! Really! Look at yourself."

The centipede, disturbed for a second time, rears up and clacks its pincers menacingly. If it were a hundred times the size, it would really be rather monstrous.

Torebras stands where he is, portly midriff bared to the elements, while his heaving chest gradually slows. Only then /does/ he look at himself. A slow red flush creeps up his neck as he holds the torn shirt closed, striving too late to preserve modesty. "It - it /bit/ me," he protests.

[Nob(#16122)] A giggle. "Look, mumsy," the little girl says, pointing.

The lady gasps and looks pointedly away. "Sir!"

"I don't know what you expect, lying down on the ground like that. Of course there are bugs. You probably disturbed the poor thing."

[Nob(#16122)] "Yes, dear," she adds absently, not bothering to look at the centipede. When you've seen one multi-legged bug, you've seen them all.

"I did no such thing?" Torebras huffs indignantly, his normal demeanour starting to return. "I assure you, Madam, I was innocently taking a few moments repose when that... that /creature/ attacked. Not content with clawing its way over my face, it took a bite out of me right ..." The words fade as he realizes that to reveal the location of said bite might not be .. well, quite within the bounds of propriety.

At the little girl's cry, he does indeed look, and pales. "Kill it!" he begs.

[Nob(#16122)] The lady looks even more horrified at the thought that this insane man might try to /show/ her the bite. "Please," she begs. "I get enough of that from my children. I don't /want/ to see your bites!"

And the little girl stares up at him as if he is a murderer. "I won't!" she says. "An' you won't neither!"

"Who says?" Torebras glares down at the hobbit-child. "It is my duty to society to rid the world of this loathsome creature." So saying, he starts to quarter the forest floor in search of a handy stick or stone to do the deed. Except that sticks and stones often have creepy-crawlies lurking under them ...

[Nob(#16122)] The little girl's face squashes into a glare and she matches Torebras scowl for scowl, going so far as to stomp her small foot. "You leave it alone!" she says shrilly. The older woman watches with a faint smile on her face - Torebras' hunt for an insect-less stick may be long and fruitless.


Date added: 2011-07-27 08:59:37    Hits: 49
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