Featherdemon
3rd Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Jun 17, 2003
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Hello,
This is very long over due. The conclusion! Apologies to all for the delay, life and quality concerns have a way of getting in the way of things. lol
For you convenience and reading pleasure, the final part of my tribute to LBH and his wonderful world of Tabor County. Due its size, I have broken it down into two parts.
Here are the locations of the earlier parts:
Part 1: http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=66393
Part 2: http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=66977
Part 3: http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=69124
Part 4: http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=70636
LBH - the world you have created is amazing. Truly amazing. 🙂
Enjoy!
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"A Bogey's heart is an immovable thing.
They are not prone to the same whimsical fancies that you mortal creatures have; nor are they likely to be swayed by new tastes or desires or other temporary hungers. They are fixed and strong and entirely dedicated on what they love, on that which drives them.
It is said that nothing can turn a Bogey from his or her love and once set, naught will stand in its way. To be pursued by a Bogey and to resist such advances is to only waste time before the terrible, tender torments of its touch claim you. If a Bogey wants your soul, it is a case of when you give it and not if you give it.
But....what if a new element was put there. What if there was a choice? A terrible thing to think about a Bogey having, true. But what if it was there? The choice to be what it was? Ah, the choice to continue being such. It would be a poison - addictive and burning - irresistible to revellers. And who are we but the chasers of endless treats?
I am a Bogey and a Bogey endures.
We may look odd and fanciful, equipped with the most delightful of appendages, but we are tough and possess a tenacity for existence that is not found in other beings. For not even time can erode us or weary our presence. The form we take, a gift in exchange for their soul, may bend and warp and be bludgeoned, but the black life-fire that animates them cannot be extinguished, even in the face of terrible damage. Crippled, ruined, they go on driven by their need. The Bogey's hunger defies all known laws of science.
This and this alone saved me from death.
What followed for me, both good and bad, set in motion a course of events that would not soon be forgotten and would change my existence forever. It was like a storm, brilliant and terrifying, thrilling and blood freezing. Of what do I speak? Gedan - her beauty and kindness; the Blue Horror that came for her and his clash with a God. What things, what unforgettable things!
And the ever calculating Mercy Mew! How did she manage it?
The pieces of this game were set a long time ago and it is but a shadow of what it is to come. And when the storm hits, all you can do it batten down the hatches and hold on.
May you ride it better than I, my friend."
Last written words of a Bogey,
Spooner
*
"My lord," said Larom, his tone polite and questioning. "Are you sure we have time for this?"
"Absolutely," replied Feathers. "When have I ever not been sure?"
"As you say, my lord."
Larom stood motionless in the shadow of a knot of closely packed trees, looking towards the small, grotty-looking tavern that sat nestled in the cul-de-sac. Larom's mood was anxious, but he hid it from his features as best he could. His Lord was frequently right, but this idea still seemed to be a little off. And on this occasion, Larom has good reason to be wary.
Beside him was Feathers; his Lord and Master, who also stood staring hungrily at the lone building that rested before them. Feathers had his large arms folded across his chest and his red eyes burned in the gloomy recesses of his oddly forgettable face. Fear and trepidation were alien feelings to the daemon, though he could recognise them well enough if he had to. But at his moment, the daemon felt nothing but excitement about what was going to happen.
Yet, for Larom, it was the onyx armour that wrapped the daemons chest and the equally ornate boots that covered his feet that stood out more than anything. The plates were thick and laid with intricate designs - glyphs, reliefs and incarnations. They added an extra bulk to the daemon that struck Larom as hugely unnecessary.
"What?" Feathers had asked, his tone waspish when he had first noticed Larom's stare.
"You're wearing your armour. my Lord."
"Indeed I am."
"But..." The words failed him. "Why, my lord?"
"Just never you mind why," replied the daemon.
"Yes, my Lord."
It was a strange thing for Feathers to wear armour. The chances of anything wanting to him harm him were slim and they would have to get through Larom first.
"Do you not trust me, Lord?"
"I trust like no other," said Feathers, his voice soft. "I trust you with that which is most important to me."
"Do you fear your life?"
"My life, no," said the daemon. "My soles, yes."
"My Lord?"
"Forget it," smirked the daemon. "Just...focus."
And thus had begun a time of silent and unbroken observation.
"But shouldn't we be looking for Lady Gedan?" said Larom, after a while, turning to look at the daemon.
"Yes," agreed Feathers. "And we are, my friend, we are; I promise. The moment we have something to track or any clue of where she might be, we will be there in an instant. But right now we are at a loss as to where she is."
"Can you still not feel her, Lord?"
"No," said Feathers and for a moment the smile on the daemon's face thinned. "I can't feel anything of her. It is...disturbing. Something...no someone...is blocking me, which in of itself is likely a cause for concern. I bet it is this Sid...the Bogey God."
Larom shuddered at the mention of the Bogey God. Sid. ""Then is it not best keep searching?" he asked.
"We could search for years," said Feathers, casting his eyes throughout the darkness of the Gloominvald. "The moment I know where to look, I can get us there in an instant, but until then, I see no reason why we should not explore this wonderful land a little more. Such wonderful folk they have here."
"I'm not fond of doing nothing, my Lord," said Larom.
"I know," said Feathers and grinned. "If you like I could truss you up in my tentacles and tickle that wonderful body of yours."
Larom blushed. "No, thank you, my Lord."
"Shame, it has been so long since I've tickled you."
"My Lord, please."
Feathers chuckled. "As you wish," he said.
Larom frowned. "Thank you, my lord," he said, changing the subject. "And what do you make of this Bogey God, my Lord?"
Feathers grinned, a genuine rush of excitement and trepidation. "Bogey God...what a wonderful thing that must be," he said. "My curiosity is very much piqued. All the talk I've heard of this...Sid character. What a mystery. Gives me shivers - the very best."
"Do you believe it?"
Feathers nodded. "There is a great power here," he said. "I can feel it. In places, it dwarfs my own. It old deep and old and wonderful. So, yes, I believe it. And it thrills me. Even in its name, there are ethereal fingers ready to tickle and tease the senses. To speak the name is to connect with it....with something...wickedly right." Feathers shivered. "If I could get goose bumps, I would be covered in them."
Larom grinned. "It makes me uneasy, my Lord."
"Why?"
"It makes me feel weak."
Feathers grinned. "Don't you worry," cooed the daemon. "If Sid catches you, the absolute worst it will do is tease you out of your armour and fill you wish sharp and sweet tickles. Just think...to hang its madness-tickles, helpless as babe. All you could do is laugh."
Larom blushed. "Yes, my Lord."
"I'm just teasing, Larom," said Feathers. "This God, Sid, certainly counts as a tickle in my thoughts. I want to meet it. To see it."
"To tickle it?"
Feathers chuckled. "If such a thing is possible, of course," he said.
"And if it tickles you, my Lord?"
Now the daemon blushed. "Hence the armour, my friend," said Feathers. "And only I know the words to remove it."
"Yes, my Lord."
"Imagine it - a God of Bogeys," said Feathers, beaming. "A tickling God. How wonderful." The daemon grinned. "And, to stop us wasting and spoiling our mood, why not come here and place our focus elsewhere?"
"Yes, I see, my lord."
"Who knows," said Feathers, "maybe Gedan's disappearance, my inability to locate her and this Sid character are related."
Larom sighed and cast his golden eyes about him. All about him, broad, thick leaves the colour of sodden compost, lay like interlocking tiles above his head, blocking the sky from his view. The air was thick and close in the Gloominvald; hisses and piercing shrieks rose all about him; things snaked and skittered at his at feet and in the shadowy murk of the Gloominvald nameless things lurked.
"I thought the plan was to meet at Dox's tavern, my lord?" said Larom, changing the topic.
"Dox's house is too open," said Feathers. "I want something a little more out of the way for what I have in mind."
"Might I ask what it is you have in store, my Lord?"
Feathers grinned. "A lure," he said. "The sweetest of honey lures, in fact. I intend to put on such a show that this Sid will find it impossible to resist."
"You hope for a significant encounter my Lord?"
"Oh, yes, Larom. Oh yes."
The daemon stood a little shorter than Larom. His skin was the colour of a near midnight sky, turning to darker hues where the dappled shadows from the trees around him fell across his form. Broad and muscular, impossibly cut in his musculature, he was a form a to catch the eye. A nest of four tentacles curled lazily at his back. His face, featureless save for the large glowing red eyes, a narrow nose and a sensuous mouth, bore an excited grin.
"But this...place does not even have a name," said Larom.
"Good," said Feathers. "The lesser known the better."
"Are you planning mischief, Lord?" Larom's voice showed more than a little trepidation.
Feathers gave Larom a reassuring look. "There will be no blood spilt, I promise," he said. "I just want to tickle the interest of a God, so to speak "Aren't you curious about this Bogey God?"
Larom shivered at the thought. "A little," he said, "The idea appeals to me. These Bogeys are something that seems very right for you, my Lord. But still, I feel awkward that I'm not out doing my duties."
"Gedan will be fine," said Feathers. "If I think, even for a moment, that she is in danger, I promise...we will stop this and nothing will prevent us from reaching her. But we need to know where to look before we can do anything and right now, we don't."
Larom nodded. "As you wish, my lord."
Feathers patted Larom on the shoulder and with a broad smile, he stepped out from the tangle of undergrowth and headed towards the tavern. It was a sad and lonely looking place, made from rusted metal, stone and wood. There was no name and only a tattered path led from its door. He might have thought it was nothing more than a ruin, but he could hear people drinking and chatting inside.
"Are you not going to change your form, my Lord?"
"Nope. I want word to spread about me and this place. At the very least, I am hoping I will stand out more looking like this. Who knows, maybe I might get a few folk wanting to return with me."
"What's the plan?" Larom asked, falling in at his master's shoulder.
"Simple," said Feathers, "we go in and tickle everyone we find in there until this Sid shows himself."
Larom smiled. "Yes, my Lord," he said.
As they drew closer, the smell of various intoxicating substances became apparent. It was the smell of life for those inside. The door was made of solid wood but had no windows. There were small square windows in the walls but nothing could be through them. Whatever was going on inside would remain on the inside.
Feathers pushed the door open and stepped inside. The interior was rectangular and filled with wooden benches and chairs. The bar was at the back and lined with dedicated consumers. A stairwell at the far right led upstairs but it seemed there was only one entrance - the one Feathers stood in. Perfect, he thought.
"Good evening," said Feathers.
All conversation stopped and the two dozen or so pairs of eyes seated in the room before him all widened as heads turned. There were looks of fear, shock, inebriated bewilderment and dread expectation; even in a place like this, daemons were not as common as one might expect.
"Please, don't be afraid," said Feathers. "I mean you no harm whatsoever."
Larom appeared behind him, ducking low to step inside. His bulk blocked the doorway from sight and sent a tremble through the on-looking eyes. People rose from their seats, muttering and swearing while others backed away.
"It seems they are looking for a fight, lord," said Larom with a grin.
"Well, I'm not," muttered Feathers.
Eleven men and women formed a cordon in front of them, fierce and hard looking figures with tell tale signs that they were well versed in violence. They clutched crude weapons in their hands and had murder in their eyes.
"I can have them restrained in moments, Lord," said Larom.
"No, no, oh no," said Feathers, grinning suddenly. "I have a better idea One that is sweeter, less painful for them and far more likely to achieve my goal."
"My Lord?"
Feathers closed his eyes and reached out with his thoughts. -Whenrei, can you hear me?-
A sweet female voice, touched with giddy merriment and something a little more disturbing, filled his mind. -Yes, Master?-
-Bring them-
The wall behind Feathers, leading to the left and right, seemed to ripple and twelve figures stepped through; male and female, clad in the softest and sweetest looking fur; they were beautiful and alluring, like nothing had a right to be. They had a sweet scent that drifted through the roam. A new energy, tingling and nerve spinning, started on the gathered occupants in the wake of their appearance.
"Ah, good," said Feathers. "Now, if you would be so kind as to render these good folk senseless with your tender and ticklish treats, I would be ever so glad."
A loud choral purr filled the room and an instant later, twelve smiling Kats stepped forward and got to work doing just that.
*
In the wake of Mr Kristov's strike, everything had fallen deathly still.
The gathered Bogeys, who only moments ago had been skilfully applying their sweet touches, now stood dumbfounded and mute. Larla stepped away, drawing her limbs back to herself while Ichbod and Istan swapped anxious looks. The serpentine Maria curled tightly in upon herself, a low hiss faintly rising from her throat. Mr Brix stood gaping. They were all at a loss. Their tickles had stopped working.
Only Mr Kristov seemed at all in the moment. He turned away from the crumpled head and prostate form of Spooner, to face Gedan full on. His large, broad form was filled with dark anger and impatience. His temper had been riled and all present would rue it - he would see to that personally.
Mr Fitch trembled at his side.
"What have you done?" Gedan said, her voice soft and delicate.
"What was necessary," said Mr Kristov.
"Necessary?" she repeated the word. "You think this was necessary?"
"Yes."
Gedan rose to her feet in a slow, effortless gesture, almost as if she were floating. Her dress, that had hung so perilously to her while she'd been tickled, was quickly adjusted and the straps fixed rightly on her shoulders.
"You have killed Mr Spooner," she said.
"He was mine to do with as I pleased," said Mr Kristov. "Perhaps if you hadn't encouraged him to be rebellious, things might have ended differently."
Gedan moved to stand in front of Kristov, her large sad green eyes taking his entire form.
"You spoke of accountability before," said Kristov with a smug smile on his face. "Well, Gedan, you are accountable for what happened to Spooner. It was because of you that he found the courage to disobey me. It was because of you that he so riled my temper. It is because of you that I felled him. The blow was mine, but it was only necessary because of you. How does this new level of accountability feel, mm?"
Gedan shook her head slowly. "His death lies on your head, Mr Kristov," she said. "I am accountable only for what I have said and done. And for what I am about to do." Her brow furrowed. "I told you that all you needed to do to get your answers was to do what you Bogeys do best - to tickle...and I would have told you all you wished to know. This was...unnecessary."
"And?"
"And you didn't heed my words. And now you have crossed a line, Mr Kristov."
"And what are you going to do about it?" asked Kristov. "Kill me? I doubt that very much."
"It speaks of your mindset, Mr Kristov, that you automatically think of violence," said Gedan. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Is that so?"
Gedan nodded, "I am sad beyond words for what has befallen, Mr Spooner. I am agitated that you have harmed someone who through brief but gentle discourse had fallen into my favour - into the protection of my mercy. But I will not hurt you. You have made me helpless through your sudden violence and a life has been lost for it."
"Your words grow sharp," said Kristov, "but no more scary."
"It's not my intent to scare you," said Gedan, her voice level but resolute. "I'm just expressing myself. I will not let what you have done to Spooner go unanswered, Mr Kristov. But I will not hurt you. I want you to know that."
"Then what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to give you everything you wanted," Gedan said, without a smile or a frown. "I'm going to show you what I am and what I am capable of doing. I'm going to show you the true power of Gedan and of the Kats."
Mr Kristov sneered.
Gedan looked down once more at the motionless Spooner and though nothing of her facial expression changed, her eyes filled with a raw sadness. For a moment, tears threatened to fall at sight of him. But then she suddenly turned her back to Kristov, a flick of her tail the only indication of her displeasure.
"What will you do?" he asked.
"Seduce your companions, Mr Kristov," said Gedan, a purr in her voice. "Each and every one of them."
The smile broadened on Kristov's face. "Seduce a Bogey?! Hah!" he said. "Now I know your true ilk, Gedan. Desperation is your courage. You're clutching at the tiniest of straws. We are not made to be seduced. We are the ones who seduce, entice and take by force! We are the sculptors of desire, charged forever to carve our hearts' lust on the flesh of those in our grip."
Gedan paused and looked back over her shoulder to flash him a smile. "I know that, Mr Kristov, and I think you're wonderful for it," she said. "But the truth is, you - and I mean you personally - don't know what you talking about. You speak of your hearts' lust as if you knew what it was. You don't know your own heart. You can't know. Your hunger is too strong for that - it is all consuming and blinding. It stops you looking inwards, stops you from seeing what is on the inside. "
Kristov frowned at her words.
Gedan turned back to look at Will Brix. "I, on the other hand, I can see right through your flesh," she said. "I can see what burns close to where your soul was. I can see your hunger and all that hides in its shadow. I can see the spark of it all."
"Your words are fine, but what do they mean?"
"I will show you," she said.
Gedan walked forward and stopped in front of Will Brix. He stood almost half her size, bent double with age, despite the blue youthful glean to his skin he was clearly an ancient figure. The throngs of his white hair waved and curled around his face and his pale eyes never left her. Gedan bent slightly at the waist reached out gently brushed his face.
"I can see your heart, Mr Brix," she said gently the look in her eye as intimate as he had ever known. With a smile, she took hold of his hand as a mother would an upset child. "Come with me, sweetie. Why don't we get you nice and comfy, mm?"
Gedan led him from where he stood over to the stool she had been sitting on and then, with a speed and agility that defied his crooked frame, had Mr Brix hop up onto it. His white hair flickered and excitedly and all the while his eyes never left Gedan.
"See, beneath this crooked frame and the blue skin," Gedan said, her voice silky and motherly, "Beneath the hunger and the need, lies a craving that has gone untended for too long. A tender need that hasn't been sated in, oh, so long. A personal need which has been translated from himself to one he must fulfil in others. Isn't that right, sweetie?"
Mr Brix nodded, as if only partly hearing what was being said.
"A need that for many possible reasons hasn't been met," Gedan said, standing at his feet and eying the boots and socks on the Bogey's feet. "A hunger that, over time, might lead even one so old and withered into the most unlikely of forays. A foray, like the one Sid led, could lure poor Mr Brix from his wife and his home and into damnation."
Mr Brix nodded again, eagerly this time.
"What nonsense," muttered Mr Kristov.
"Is it?" Gedan asked, looking coyly at Mr Brix and ignoring Kristov. "Is it stupid, sweetie? Or really. deep down, would you like for nothing more than to have me give the sweetest and most tender of tickles on the soles of your feet?"
Mr Brix remained mute but Gedan saw a fire in his eyes that spoke as loud as any voice could. She lifted her hands and gently set about removing his boots and socks. She saw the fire in his eyes blaze brighter then, none more so than when she put his feet in the stocks that had once held her. An alien-looking smile filled his face; Mr Brix nodded again.
Gedan purred happily. "There you are," she said "Do you see, Mr Kristov?" She wiggled her fingers under the twitching soles of Mr Brix.
"All I see is that you have shackled an old Bogey," said Mr Kristov. "But if you are hoping to hear long, loud and exultant peals of laughter coming from him, you will have a very long wait. He is a mute. The change stole his voice. He cannot laugh for you."
Gedan's brow furrowed. Her nails brushed with exquisite delicacy, the finest tickling touches she could muster and though Mr Brix, wriggled and trembled not a single sound left his mouth.
"You gave him a hunger that he could never sate," she said, "then to keep him from dying, you stole his soul. And gave him a form that will forever have him chasing that which he loves. But he can never voice his it or share it."
"It was not I who did this to him," said Mr Kristov. "But yes, that is the state of it. And a state I am happy for him to be in."
"My, my," said Gedan, "You are making it very difficult for me to be nice, Mr Kristov."
Mr Kristov shrugged. "Of what use is a voice to him?" he said. "And your kindness has only worked to the ruin of Spooner and the further torment of Mr Brix. Where is the value in that?"
"Oh, sweetie," Gedan said, bending closer to Mr Brix, her voice tearfully soft. "I'm sorry, I really am so very sorry."
Gedan kept her fingers wiggling and stroking with unhurried, but expert tickling skill, up and down Mr Brix's feet. Her touches were light and well considered, but they failed to draw a sound from him.
"You see the futility of your...considerations?" said Mr Kristov. "You might as well be tickling stone for all the reactions you're going to get."
"I will be the judge of that."
"Perhaps," said Mr Kristov, "Your efforts to help him and the rest of us Bogeys with...tenderness and kindness is ill advised. I would not waste my time with such things."
"I doubt you will ever be able to talk me into being anything else other than I am," said Gedan, still tickling lightly and watching Mr Brix's face.
"I have no desire to change you," said Mr Kristov. "I only wish to get answers to my questions. "Something you have promised to give, but have not yet done so."
Gedan looked back at Mr Brix. "You haven't asked me any."
"Why are you here?"
"I was summoned here," said Gedan.
"By who?"
"Some lovely ladies who desired to have me tickle them," said Gedan. "Who in turn, were asked to summon me here by another lovely lady."
"And who that might be?"
"I don't have a name."
"Convenient."
Gedan paused in her tickling and noted the drop of Mr Brix's features as she did so. She winked at him and patted the tops of his feet, leaving her hands on them as way of reassurance. "I'll be right back, sweetie." She smiled and then turned to look at Mr Kristov. "You're wrong Mr Brix."
"Is that so?"
Gedan nodded. "I don't need to hear him laugh to see the joy in his eyes," she said. "Or to feel the tickled delight my fingers wreath in him."
Kristov looked at Brix, who a dream-like look on his face. "What are you, Gedan?"
"Sweet. Kind. And very ticklish."
Kristov shuddered. "You are a Siren to my nature."
"We are not entirely dissimilar, Mr Kristov," said Gedan, smiling. "Can we not get along? Can we not be friends and share our love of tickling? From the very start, I have only ever wanted to indulge you, not antagonise. We can still have that, if you will let me."
Mr Kristov looked at Gedan, for the first time seriously considering her words. His eyes, hard and cold, ranged from where she stood, to Mr Brix and all the way across to where the other Bogeys lingered.
"You said you were going to seduce my Bogeys," he said. "If you can do that, we will have it as you wish, Gedan. And I very much would like to have a turn with you."
Gedan's face lit up. "Wonderful!" she said and clapped. "I'm glad you said that, Mr Kristov."
"But Spooner remains mine, no matter what happens," he said.
Gedan sighed and looked at where Mr Spooner lay. A pang of sadness filled her. "I am unfamiliar with the nature of Bogeys," she said. "Is there nothing that can be done for him?"
"No," said Mr Kristov. "But I will keep his...body."
"Why?"
"Consider it a way to ensure that no one interferes with it."
Gedan took a moment and walking over to where Mr Spooner lay, she stroked his brow and whispered in his ear. Then she rose back to her feet."
"What did you say?"
"I told him to have hope."
"For what?"
Gedan smiled. "Let us see what comes, shall we?"
"Then proceed."
Gedan turned back to Mr Brix. "Oh," she said, smiling at the stocked Bogey. "Ready for more sweetie? How about some nice nail tickles on your arches?" She giggled and started tickling again. The light in Mr Brix's eyes lit up again.
The blue skinned Bogey gripped the seat of the chair, twisting with silent delight and unvoiced hysteria at the feel of Gedan's fingers on his feet. He bucked and mouthed his laughter, his hair trembling and his eyes happy.
"Poor thing," cooed Gedan. "All of that time and all he wanted was a little tickle...."
Gedan's words reached out like warm shivery fingers, sliding through the room and drifting with gentle intent to the ears of the Bogeys standing close by. And on reaching them, they slide deep to where the shivery delights burning hunger of each Bogey rested, where they tease and stirred with irresistible effect.
Kristov watched with a cold displaced sense of curiosity as the hypnotic sight of Gedan's tickling fingers drew them around Mr Brix. It was the strangest thing. Even Mr Finch, who had been hiding firmly behind Kristov's legs, seemed suddenly confident enough to advance forward to see what has going on. Only Kristov seemed content to watch.
Out the corner of his eye, Kristov saw Spooner twitch. Frowning and with surreptitious stealth, Kristov moved to stand in front of him - so his little twitches would not be seen and Gedan would not know of his true state.
"Such lovely little tickles," said Gedan, quickening the tickling of her fingers. "Kitchy kitchy koo."
Larla edged forward, her dark, bark-like skin creaked with a sweet smile. Her hands, drooping with frilly fronds and delicate tendrils rose up and mimicked Gedan's fingers. Istan and Ichbod looked at one another, an odd desire tingling in them but unsure of what to do about it. Even Maria, so alien looking, slithered close to the two brothers and let out a soft hiss of amusement. Gedan glanced at each of them for a moment, feeling what they felt and smiled.
"Seems your Bogey friends are taken back by your ticklishness, Mr Brix," Gedan teased. "See how they gather round? Mm. Can you feel their hunger, Mr Brix?"
Mr Brix looked around at each of the other Bogeys gathering around, particularly Larla who was pressing against Gedan, trying to take her place.
"Mm," said Gedan, "You can feel it too, can't you? Little Larla here is itching to apply her devilish touches to your feet. Shall I let her? I don't think she'll ever stop, though, will you Larla?"
Larla nodded and in response Mr Brix nodded eagerly.
Giggling at sight of it, Gedan stepped back and watched Larla stepped hurriedly to take place. All at once the feathery fronds, tendrils and branch-like fingers set about stroking and teasing the feet before them. It was a gentle but merciless assault, touching heel, toe and arch all at once, delivered with hungry impatience that only a Bogey can show.
Mr Brix, under this new barrage, erupted with silent hysterics and fell back against the chair; he started thrashing helplessly with his arms. At once, as if on cue, Istan and Ichbod, lunged forward to take hold of his arms and pinned them at his side.
"Clever," said Kristov. "Use the teasing of one to lure the others and then turn them against each other. A wonderful tactic."
Gedan looked back at Kristov and shook her head at him. "It's not as manipulative as that," she said. "I just started the ball rolling. These wonderful Bogeys have their own minds and having seen what joy Mr Brix is taking from his tender torment, they want to be part of it."
Mr Kristov scoffed. "You see only the kindest in things," he said.
"I do," said Gedan, "I even see the kind things in you."
"There is no kindness in me," said Kristov. "I am what I am. I'm predator of ticklish beauties; a hunter, merciless and indomitable in my pursuit."
"As you wish."
Gedan turned full about and looked down at the little figure of Mr Finch. She knelt on the floor, to appear less intimidating, and extended both her hands towards him. She gave him a bright and thrilling smile; one that promised and reassured all at the same time. "Your turn, sweetie," she said. "Come to me."
This is very long over due. The conclusion! Apologies to all for the delay, life and quality concerns have a way of getting in the way of things. lol
For you convenience and reading pleasure, the final part of my tribute to LBH and his wonderful world of Tabor County. Due its size, I have broken it down into two parts.
Here are the locations of the earlier parts:
Part 1: http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=66393
Part 2: http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=66977
Part 3: http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=69124
Part 4: http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=70636
LBH - the world you have created is amazing. Truly amazing. 🙂
Enjoy!
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"A Bogey's heart is an immovable thing.
They are not prone to the same whimsical fancies that you mortal creatures have; nor are they likely to be swayed by new tastes or desires or other temporary hungers. They are fixed and strong and entirely dedicated on what they love, on that which drives them.
It is said that nothing can turn a Bogey from his or her love and once set, naught will stand in its way. To be pursued by a Bogey and to resist such advances is to only waste time before the terrible, tender torments of its touch claim you. If a Bogey wants your soul, it is a case of when you give it and not if you give it.
But....what if a new element was put there. What if there was a choice? A terrible thing to think about a Bogey having, true. But what if it was there? The choice to be what it was? Ah, the choice to continue being such. It would be a poison - addictive and burning - irresistible to revellers. And who are we but the chasers of endless treats?
I am a Bogey and a Bogey endures.
We may look odd and fanciful, equipped with the most delightful of appendages, but we are tough and possess a tenacity for existence that is not found in other beings. For not even time can erode us or weary our presence. The form we take, a gift in exchange for their soul, may bend and warp and be bludgeoned, but the black life-fire that animates them cannot be extinguished, even in the face of terrible damage. Crippled, ruined, they go on driven by their need. The Bogey's hunger defies all known laws of science.
This and this alone saved me from death.
What followed for me, both good and bad, set in motion a course of events that would not soon be forgotten and would change my existence forever. It was like a storm, brilliant and terrifying, thrilling and blood freezing. Of what do I speak? Gedan - her beauty and kindness; the Blue Horror that came for her and his clash with a God. What things, what unforgettable things!
And the ever calculating Mercy Mew! How did she manage it?
The pieces of this game were set a long time ago and it is but a shadow of what it is to come. And when the storm hits, all you can do it batten down the hatches and hold on.
May you ride it better than I, my friend."
Last written words of a Bogey,
Spooner
*
"My lord," said Larom, his tone polite and questioning. "Are you sure we have time for this?"
"Absolutely," replied Feathers. "When have I ever not been sure?"
"As you say, my lord."
Larom stood motionless in the shadow of a knot of closely packed trees, looking towards the small, grotty-looking tavern that sat nestled in the cul-de-sac. Larom's mood was anxious, but he hid it from his features as best he could. His Lord was frequently right, but this idea still seemed to be a little off. And on this occasion, Larom has good reason to be wary.
Beside him was Feathers; his Lord and Master, who also stood staring hungrily at the lone building that rested before them. Feathers had his large arms folded across his chest and his red eyes burned in the gloomy recesses of his oddly forgettable face. Fear and trepidation were alien feelings to the daemon, though he could recognise them well enough if he had to. But at his moment, the daemon felt nothing but excitement about what was going to happen.
Yet, for Larom, it was the onyx armour that wrapped the daemons chest and the equally ornate boots that covered his feet that stood out more than anything. The plates were thick and laid with intricate designs - glyphs, reliefs and incarnations. They added an extra bulk to the daemon that struck Larom as hugely unnecessary.
"What?" Feathers had asked, his tone waspish when he had first noticed Larom's stare.
"You're wearing your armour. my Lord."
"Indeed I am."
"But..." The words failed him. "Why, my lord?"
"Just never you mind why," replied the daemon.
"Yes, my Lord."
It was a strange thing for Feathers to wear armour. The chances of anything wanting to him harm him were slim and they would have to get through Larom first.
"Do you not trust me, Lord?"
"I trust like no other," said Feathers, his voice soft. "I trust you with that which is most important to me."
"Do you fear your life?"
"My life, no," said the daemon. "My soles, yes."
"My Lord?"
"Forget it," smirked the daemon. "Just...focus."
And thus had begun a time of silent and unbroken observation.
"But shouldn't we be looking for Lady Gedan?" said Larom, after a while, turning to look at the daemon.
"Yes," agreed Feathers. "And we are, my friend, we are; I promise. The moment we have something to track or any clue of where she might be, we will be there in an instant. But right now we are at a loss as to where she is."
"Can you still not feel her, Lord?"
"No," said Feathers and for a moment the smile on the daemon's face thinned. "I can't feel anything of her. It is...disturbing. Something...no someone...is blocking me, which in of itself is likely a cause for concern. I bet it is this Sid...the Bogey God."
Larom shuddered at the mention of the Bogey God. Sid. ""Then is it not best keep searching?" he asked.
"We could search for years," said Feathers, casting his eyes throughout the darkness of the Gloominvald. "The moment I know where to look, I can get us there in an instant, but until then, I see no reason why we should not explore this wonderful land a little more. Such wonderful folk they have here."
"I'm not fond of doing nothing, my Lord," said Larom.
"I know," said Feathers and grinned. "If you like I could truss you up in my tentacles and tickle that wonderful body of yours."
Larom blushed. "No, thank you, my Lord."
"Shame, it has been so long since I've tickled you."
"My Lord, please."
Feathers chuckled. "As you wish," he said.
Larom frowned. "Thank you, my lord," he said, changing the subject. "And what do you make of this Bogey God, my Lord?"
Feathers grinned, a genuine rush of excitement and trepidation. "Bogey God...what a wonderful thing that must be," he said. "My curiosity is very much piqued. All the talk I've heard of this...Sid character. What a mystery. Gives me shivers - the very best."
"Do you believe it?"
Feathers nodded. "There is a great power here," he said. "I can feel it. In places, it dwarfs my own. It old deep and old and wonderful. So, yes, I believe it. And it thrills me. Even in its name, there are ethereal fingers ready to tickle and tease the senses. To speak the name is to connect with it....with something...wickedly right." Feathers shivered. "If I could get goose bumps, I would be covered in them."
Larom grinned. "It makes me uneasy, my Lord."
"Why?"
"It makes me feel weak."
Feathers grinned. "Don't you worry," cooed the daemon. "If Sid catches you, the absolute worst it will do is tease you out of your armour and fill you wish sharp and sweet tickles. Just think...to hang its madness-tickles, helpless as babe. All you could do is laugh."
Larom blushed. "Yes, my Lord."
"I'm just teasing, Larom," said Feathers. "This God, Sid, certainly counts as a tickle in my thoughts. I want to meet it. To see it."
"To tickle it?"
Feathers chuckled. "If such a thing is possible, of course," he said.
"And if it tickles you, my Lord?"
Now the daemon blushed. "Hence the armour, my friend," said Feathers. "And only I know the words to remove it."
"Yes, my Lord."
"Imagine it - a God of Bogeys," said Feathers, beaming. "A tickling God. How wonderful." The daemon grinned. "And, to stop us wasting and spoiling our mood, why not come here and place our focus elsewhere?"
"Yes, I see, my lord."
"Who knows," said Feathers, "maybe Gedan's disappearance, my inability to locate her and this Sid character are related."
Larom sighed and cast his golden eyes about him. All about him, broad, thick leaves the colour of sodden compost, lay like interlocking tiles above his head, blocking the sky from his view. The air was thick and close in the Gloominvald; hisses and piercing shrieks rose all about him; things snaked and skittered at his at feet and in the shadowy murk of the Gloominvald nameless things lurked.
"I thought the plan was to meet at Dox's tavern, my lord?" said Larom, changing the topic.
"Dox's house is too open," said Feathers. "I want something a little more out of the way for what I have in mind."
"Might I ask what it is you have in store, my Lord?"
Feathers grinned. "A lure," he said. "The sweetest of honey lures, in fact. I intend to put on such a show that this Sid will find it impossible to resist."
"You hope for a significant encounter my Lord?"
"Oh, yes, Larom. Oh yes."
The daemon stood a little shorter than Larom. His skin was the colour of a near midnight sky, turning to darker hues where the dappled shadows from the trees around him fell across his form. Broad and muscular, impossibly cut in his musculature, he was a form a to catch the eye. A nest of four tentacles curled lazily at his back. His face, featureless save for the large glowing red eyes, a narrow nose and a sensuous mouth, bore an excited grin.
"But this...place does not even have a name," said Larom.
"Good," said Feathers. "The lesser known the better."
"Are you planning mischief, Lord?" Larom's voice showed more than a little trepidation.
Feathers gave Larom a reassuring look. "There will be no blood spilt, I promise," he said. "I just want to tickle the interest of a God, so to speak "Aren't you curious about this Bogey God?"
Larom shivered at the thought. "A little," he said, "The idea appeals to me. These Bogeys are something that seems very right for you, my Lord. But still, I feel awkward that I'm not out doing my duties."
"Gedan will be fine," said Feathers. "If I think, even for a moment, that she is in danger, I promise...we will stop this and nothing will prevent us from reaching her. But we need to know where to look before we can do anything and right now, we don't."
Larom nodded. "As you wish, my lord."
Feathers patted Larom on the shoulder and with a broad smile, he stepped out from the tangle of undergrowth and headed towards the tavern. It was a sad and lonely looking place, made from rusted metal, stone and wood. There was no name and only a tattered path led from its door. He might have thought it was nothing more than a ruin, but he could hear people drinking and chatting inside.
"Are you not going to change your form, my Lord?"
"Nope. I want word to spread about me and this place. At the very least, I am hoping I will stand out more looking like this. Who knows, maybe I might get a few folk wanting to return with me."
"What's the plan?" Larom asked, falling in at his master's shoulder.
"Simple," said Feathers, "we go in and tickle everyone we find in there until this Sid shows himself."
Larom smiled. "Yes, my Lord," he said.
As they drew closer, the smell of various intoxicating substances became apparent. It was the smell of life for those inside. The door was made of solid wood but had no windows. There were small square windows in the walls but nothing could be through them. Whatever was going on inside would remain on the inside.
Feathers pushed the door open and stepped inside. The interior was rectangular and filled with wooden benches and chairs. The bar was at the back and lined with dedicated consumers. A stairwell at the far right led upstairs but it seemed there was only one entrance - the one Feathers stood in. Perfect, he thought.
"Good evening," said Feathers.
All conversation stopped and the two dozen or so pairs of eyes seated in the room before him all widened as heads turned. There were looks of fear, shock, inebriated bewilderment and dread expectation; even in a place like this, daemons were not as common as one might expect.
"Please, don't be afraid," said Feathers. "I mean you no harm whatsoever."
Larom appeared behind him, ducking low to step inside. His bulk blocked the doorway from sight and sent a tremble through the on-looking eyes. People rose from their seats, muttering and swearing while others backed away.
"It seems they are looking for a fight, lord," said Larom with a grin.
"Well, I'm not," muttered Feathers.
Eleven men and women formed a cordon in front of them, fierce and hard looking figures with tell tale signs that they were well versed in violence. They clutched crude weapons in their hands and had murder in their eyes.
"I can have them restrained in moments, Lord," said Larom.
"No, no, oh no," said Feathers, grinning suddenly. "I have a better idea One that is sweeter, less painful for them and far more likely to achieve my goal."
"My Lord?"
Feathers closed his eyes and reached out with his thoughts. -Whenrei, can you hear me?-
A sweet female voice, touched with giddy merriment and something a little more disturbing, filled his mind. -Yes, Master?-
-Bring them-
The wall behind Feathers, leading to the left and right, seemed to ripple and twelve figures stepped through; male and female, clad in the softest and sweetest looking fur; they were beautiful and alluring, like nothing had a right to be. They had a sweet scent that drifted through the roam. A new energy, tingling and nerve spinning, started on the gathered occupants in the wake of their appearance.
"Ah, good," said Feathers. "Now, if you would be so kind as to render these good folk senseless with your tender and ticklish treats, I would be ever so glad."
A loud choral purr filled the room and an instant later, twelve smiling Kats stepped forward and got to work doing just that.
*
In the wake of Mr Kristov's strike, everything had fallen deathly still.
The gathered Bogeys, who only moments ago had been skilfully applying their sweet touches, now stood dumbfounded and mute. Larla stepped away, drawing her limbs back to herself while Ichbod and Istan swapped anxious looks. The serpentine Maria curled tightly in upon herself, a low hiss faintly rising from her throat. Mr Brix stood gaping. They were all at a loss. Their tickles had stopped working.
Only Mr Kristov seemed at all in the moment. He turned away from the crumpled head and prostate form of Spooner, to face Gedan full on. His large, broad form was filled with dark anger and impatience. His temper had been riled and all present would rue it - he would see to that personally.
Mr Fitch trembled at his side.
"What have you done?" Gedan said, her voice soft and delicate.
"What was necessary," said Mr Kristov.
"Necessary?" she repeated the word. "You think this was necessary?"
"Yes."
Gedan rose to her feet in a slow, effortless gesture, almost as if she were floating. Her dress, that had hung so perilously to her while she'd been tickled, was quickly adjusted and the straps fixed rightly on her shoulders.
"You have killed Mr Spooner," she said.
"He was mine to do with as I pleased," said Mr Kristov. "Perhaps if you hadn't encouraged him to be rebellious, things might have ended differently."
Gedan moved to stand in front of Kristov, her large sad green eyes taking his entire form.
"You spoke of accountability before," said Kristov with a smug smile on his face. "Well, Gedan, you are accountable for what happened to Spooner. It was because of you that he found the courage to disobey me. It was because of you that he so riled my temper. It is because of you that I felled him. The blow was mine, but it was only necessary because of you. How does this new level of accountability feel, mm?"
Gedan shook her head slowly. "His death lies on your head, Mr Kristov," she said. "I am accountable only for what I have said and done. And for what I am about to do." Her brow furrowed. "I told you that all you needed to do to get your answers was to do what you Bogeys do best - to tickle...and I would have told you all you wished to know. This was...unnecessary."
"And?"
"And you didn't heed my words. And now you have crossed a line, Mr Kristov."
"And what are you going to do about it?" asked Kristov. "Kill me? I doubt that very much."
"It speaks of your mindset, Mr Kristov, that you automatically think of violence," said Gedan. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Is that so?"
Gedan nodded, "I am sad beyond words for what has befallen, Mr Spooner. I am agitated that you have harmed someone who through brief but gentle discourse had fallen into my favour - into the protection of my mercy. But I will not hurt you. You have made me helpless through your sudden violence and a life has been lost for it."
"Your words grow sharp," said Kristov, "but no more scary."
"It's not my intent to scare you," said Gedan, her voice level but resolute. "I'm just expressing myself. I will not let what you have done to Spooner go unanswered, Mr Kristov. But I will not hurt you. I want you to know that."
"Then what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to give you everything you wanted," Gedan said, without a smile or a frown. "I'm going to show you what I am and what I am capable of doing. I'm going to show you the true power of Gedan and of the Kats."
Mr Kristov sneered.
Gedan looked down once more at the motionless Spooner and though nothing of her facial expression changed, her eyes filled with a raw sadness. For a moment, tears threatened to fall at sight of him. But then she suddenly turned her back to Kristov, a flick of her tail the only indication of her displeasure.
"What will you do?" he asked.
"Seduce your companions, Mr Kristov," said Gedan, a purr in her voice. "Each and every one of them."
The smile broadened on Kristov's face. "Seduce a Bogey?! Hah!" he said. "Now I know your true ilk, Gedan. Desperation is your courage. You're clutching at the tiniest of straws. We are not made to be seduced. We are the ones who seduce, entice and take by force! We are the sculptors of desire, charged forever to carve our hearts' lust on the flesh of those in our grip."
Gedan paused and looked back over her shoulder to flash him a smile. "I know that, Mr Kristov, and I think you're wonderful for it," she said. "But the truth is, you - and I mean you personally - don't know what you talking about. You speak of your hearts' lust as if you knew what it was. You don't know your own heart. You can't know. Your hunger is too strong for that - it is all consuming and blinding. It stops you looking inwards, stops you from seeing what is on the inside. "
Kristov frowned at her words.
Gedan turned back to look at Will Brix. "I, on the other hand, I can see right through your flesh," she said. "I can see what burns close to where your soul was. I can see your hunger and all that hides in its shadow. I can see the spark of it all."
"Your words are fine, but what do they mean?"
"I will show you," she said.
Gedan walked forward and stopped in front of Will Brix. He stood almost half her size, bent double with age, despite the blue youthful glean to his skin he was clearly an ancient figure. The throngs of his white hair waved and curled around his face and his pale eyes never left her. Gedan bent slightly at the waist reached out gently brushed his face.
"I can see your heart, Mr Brix," she said gently the look in her eye as intimate as he had ever known. With a smile, she took hold of his hand as a mother would an upset child. "Come with me, sweetie. Why don't we get you nice and comfy, mm?"
Gedan led him from where he stood over to the stool she had been sitting on and then, with a speed and agility that defied his crooked frame, had Mr Brix hop up onto it. His white hair flickered and excitedly and all the while his eyes never left Gedan.
"See, beneath this crooked frame and the blue skin," Gedan said, her voice silky and motherly, "Beneath the hunger and the need, lies a craving that has gone untended for too long. A tender need that hasn't been sated in, oh, so long. A personal need which has been translated from himself to one he must fulfil in others. Isn't that right, sweetie?"
Mr Brix nodded, as if only partly hearing what was being said.
"A need that for many possible reasons hasn't been met," Gedan said, standing at his feet and eying the boots and socks on the Bogey's feet. "A hunger that, over time, might lead even one so old and withered into the most unlikely of forays. A foray, like the one Sid led, could lure poor Mr Brix from his wife and his home and into damnation."
Mr Brix nodded again, eagerly this time.
"What nonsense," muttered Mr Kristov.
"Is it?" Gedan asked, looking coyly at Mr Brix and ignoring Kristov. "Is it stupid, sweetie? Or really. deep down, would you like for nothing more than to have me give the sweetest and most tender of tickles on the soles of your feet?"
Mr Brix remained mute but Gedan saw a fire in his eyes that spoke as loud as any voice could. She lifted her hands and gently set about removing his boots and socks. She saw the fire in his eyes blaze brighter then, none more so than when she put his feet in the stocks that had once held her. An alien-looking smile filled his face; Mr Brix nodded again.
Gedan purred happily. "There you are," she said "Do you see, Mr Kristov?" She wiggled her fingers under the twitching soles of Mr Brix.
"All I see is that you have shackled an old Bogey," said Mr Kristov. "But if you are hoping to hear long, loud and exultant peals of laughter coming from him, you will have a very long wait. He is a mute. The change stole his voice. He cannot laugh for you."
Gedan's brow furrowed. Her nails brushed with exquisite delicacy, the finest tickling touches she could muster and though Mr Brix, wriggled and trembled not a single sound left his mouth.
"You gave him a hunger that he could never sate," she said, "then to keep him from dying, you stole his soul. And gave him a form that will forever have him chasing that which he loves. But he can never voice his it or share it."
"It was not I who did this to him," said Mr Kristov. "But yes, that is the state of it. And a state I am happy for him to be in."
"My, my," said Gedan, "You are making it very difficult for me to be nice, Mr Kristov."
Mr Kristov shrugged. "Of what use is a voice to him?" he said. "And your kindness has only worked to the ruin of Spooner and the further torment of Mr Brix. Where is the value in that?"
"Oh, sweetie," Gedan said, bending closer to Mr Brix, her voice tearfully soft. "I'm sorry, I really am so very sorry."
Gedan kept her fingers wiggling and stroking with unhurried, but expert tickling skill, up and down Mr Brix's feet. Her touches were light and well considered, but they failed to draw a sound from him.
"You see the futility of your...considerations?" said Mr Kristov. "You might as well be tickling stone for all the reactions you're going to get."
"I will be the judge of that."
"Perhaps," said Mr Kristov, "Your efforts to help him and the rest of us Bogeys with...tenderness and kindness is ill advised. I would not waste my time with such things."
"I doubt you will ever be able to talk me into being anything else other than I am," said Gedan, still tickling lightly and watching Mr Brix's face.
"I have no desire to change you," said Mr Kristov. "I only wish to get answers to my questions. "Something you have promised to give, but have not yet done so."
Gedan looked back at Mr Brix. "You haven't asked me any."
"Why are you here?"
"I was summoned here," said Gedan.
"By who?"
"Some lovely ladies who desired to have me tickle them," said Gedan. "Who in turn, were asked to summon me here by another lovely lady."
"And who that might be?"
"I don't have a name."
"Convenient."
Gedan paused in her tickling and noted the drop of Mr Brix's features as she did so. She winked at him and patted the tops of his feet, leaving her hands on them as way of reassurance. "I'll be right back, sweetie." She smiled and then turned to look at Mr Kristov. "You're wrong Mr Brix."
"Is that so?"
Gedan nodded. "I don't need to hear him laugh to see the joy in his eyes," she said. "Or to feel the tickled delight my fingers wreath in him."
Kristov looked at Brix, who a dream-like look on his face. "What are you, Gedan?"
"Sweet. Kind. And very ticklish."
Kristov shuddered. "You are a Siren to my nature."
"We are not entirely dissimilar, Mr Kristov," said Gedan, smiling. "Can we not get along? Can we not be friends and share our love of tickling? From the very start, I have only ever wanted to indulge you, not antagonise. We can still have that, if you will let me."
Mr Kristov looked at Gedan, for the first time seriously considering her words. His eyes, hard and cold, ranged from where she stood, to Mr Brix and all the way across to where the other Bogeys lingered.
"You said you were going to seduce my Bogeys," he said. "If you can do that, we will have it as you wish, Gedan. And I very much would like to have a turn with you."
Gedan's face lit up. "Wonderful!" she said and clapped. "I'm glad you said that, Mr Kristov."
"But Spooner remains mine, no matter what happens," he said.
Gedan sighed and looked at where Mr Spooner lay. A pang of sadness filled her. "I am unfamiliar with the nature of Bogeys," she said. "Is there nothing that can be done for him?"
"No," said Mr Kristov. "But I will keep his...body."
"Why?"
"Consider it a way to ensure that no one interferes with it."
Gedan took a moment and walking over to where Mr Spooner lay, she stroked his brow and whispered in his ear. Then she rose back to her feet."
"What did you say?"
"I told him to have hope."
"For what?"
Gedan smiled. "Let us see what comes, shall we?"
"Then proceed."
Gedan turned back to Mr Brix. "Oh," she said, smiling at the stocked Bogey. "Ready for more sweetie? How about some nice nail tickles on your arches?" She giggled and started tickling again. The light in Mr Brix's eyes lit up again.
The blue skinned Bogey gripped the seat of the chair, twisting with silent delight and unvoiced hysteria at the feel of Gedan's fingers on his feet. He bucked and mouthed his laughter, his hair trembling and his eyes happy.
"Poor thing," cooed Gedan. "All of that time and all he wanted was a little tickle...."
Gedan's words reached out like warm shivery fingers, sliding through the room and drifting with gentle intent to the ears of the Bogeys standing close by. And on reaching them, they slide deep to where the shivery delights burning hunger of each Bogey rested, where they tease and stirred with irresistible effect.
Kristov watched with a cold displaced sense of curiosity as the hypnotic sight of Gedan's tickling fingers drew them around Mr Brix. It was the strangest thing. Even Mr Finch, who had been hiding firmly behind Kristov's legs, seemed suddenly confident enough to advance forward to see what has going on. Only Kristov seemed content to watch.
Out the corner of his eye, Kristov saw Spooner twitch. Frowning and with surreptitious stealth, Kristov moved to stand in front of him - so his little twitches would not be seen and Gedan would not know of his true state.
"Such lovely little tickles," said Gedan, quickening the tickling of her fingers. "Kitchy kitchy koo."
Larla edged forward, her dark, bark-like skin creaked with a sweet smile. Her hands, drooping with frilly fronds and delicate tendrils rose up and mimicked Gedan's fingers. Istan and Ichbod looked at one another, an odd desire tingling in them but unsure of what to do about it. Even Maria, so alien looking, slithered close to the two brothers and let out a soft hiss of amusement. Gedan glanced at each of them for a moment, feeling what they felt and smiled.
"Seems your Bogey friends are taken back by your ticklishness, Mr Brix," Gedan teased. "See how they gather round? Mm. Can you feel their hunger, Mr Brix?"
Mr Brix looked around at each of the other Bogeys gathering around, particularly Larla who was pressing against Gedan, trying to take her place.
"Mm," said Gedan, "You can feel it too, can't you? Little Larla here is itching to apply her devilish touches to your feet. Shall I let her? I don't think she'll ever stop, though, will you Larla?"
Larla nodded and in response Mr Brix nodded eagerly.
Giggling at sight of it, Gedan stepped back and watched Larla stepped hurriedly to take place. All at once the feathery fronds, tendrils and branch-like fingers set about stroking and teasing the feet before them. It was a gentle but merciless assault, touching heel, toe and arch all at once, delivered with hungry impatience that only a Bogey can show.
Mr Brix, under this new barrage, erupted with silent hysterics and fell back against the chair; he started thrashing helplessly with his arms. At once, as if on cue, Istan and Ichbod, lunged forward to take hold of his arms and pinned them at his side.
"Clever," said Kristov. "Use the teasing of one to lure the others and then turn them against each other. A wonderful tactic."
Gedan looked back at Kristov and shook her head at him. "It's not as manipulative as that," she said. "I just started the ball rolling. These wonderful Bogeys have their own minds and having seen what joy Mr Brix is taking from his tender torment, they want to be part of it."
Mr Kristov scoffed. "You see only the kindest in things," he said.
"I do," said Gedan, "I even see the kind things in you."
"There is no kindness in me," said Kristov. "I am what I am. I'm predator of ticklish beauties; a hunter, merciless and indomitable in my pursuit."
"As you wish."
Gedan turned full about and looked down at the little figure of Mr Finch. She knelt on the floor, to appear less intimidating, and extended both her hands towards him. She gave him a bright and thrilling smile; one that promised and reassured all at the same time. "Your turn, sweetie," she said. "Come to me."
