And here we have the second instalment of the story, where we meet a character who is a long time favourite of mine, I gave him the title Odd-job Bob in the first place, though he was already Bob.
Characters, locations etc belong to Neopets, plot belongs to me!
Yes, I really did see some people having that conversation about them. Enjoy the chapter!
He was walking through the wood, only a few minutes away from his cottage. He smiled as a small group of Beekadoodles streamed from a bush next to him and vanished into the trees. He was so happy here that he couldn't imagine being anywhere else. His orange paws reached downwards and the mane of fur brushed a nearby bush, causing a slight rustle other than that caused by the wind. Funny, it sounded like cloth rather than hair on bush.
His back paw printed firmly on the ground, orange against green and brown...
"OHEMGEE! Look it's like, the janitor!"
Odd-job Bob the Yurble jumped awake and reached out to try and whack the child who had disturbed his sleep, his peaceful dream... Instead his paw found the mop and he stood up to grumpily return to washing the floor.
At least it was work. At least he got some recognition...
"OMG! I'm like, going to call it Cecily!"
The Yurble paled under his orange fur and stamped over to the annoying Kacheek, he could break the script every so often. He whacked them soundly with the broom handle, "My name is BOB!" he growled as he returned to his corner, feeling better.
However he knew that no matter how much bashing happened he wouldn't get his dream back, he wouldn't get his old home, his old job. Yes, travelling was wonderful, but it wasn't exactly home in an earth-stained sack.
Now the excitement over constellations had ended the hall was relatively deserted apart from the strange one that came in every so often. Bob sighed, he needed another job, one that could get him out and about again, he couldn't stay in one place too long doing the same thing, that was why TNT gave him the contract after all...
"Mr. Odd-job Bob?"
The Yurble's head jerked up at the voice and met the eyes of the post Lenny, "Yeah?"
"I have a letter for you." The Yurble nodded and reached out to take the letter, "Who from?"
"They wish to remain anonymous." The Yurble's paw stopped in its tracks, anonymous letters were never good nowadays, they'd been introduced recently and only caused trouble from what he could see. He took it anyway and shooed the Lenny away before he looked at the letter warily. It didn't seem to be hate-mail, just plain paper with a slight pearly sheen to it and... the Yurble sniffed the paper.
Earth? This envelope smelt of damp earth! He ripped it open hastily, nothing from home could be bad... However his heart sank as he saw curly dark script on the clean paper. It seemed that it didn't come from home after all, the scent had tricked him. He dropped it in disgust, the paper falling to the floor, he hated when people misled him, hated it! The Janitor picked up the mop and ferociously started to clean the floor, sweeping the offensive article to the side of the room where it was promptly forgotten about.
He only spotted it a few days later as it gleamed amongst the dirt when he was sweeping it out. Bob looked at it uncertainly and decided he probably owed it at least one read. True, it wasn't from home, but damp earth was still a good sign.
He sighed and picked it up in his claws, tucking it into his ruff until he'd swept out the dust it had been sitting in, as unsoiled as the day it arrived. That made the Yurble frown suspiciously. It had been sitting in dust and rubbish but didn't have a speck on it? That alone sparked his curiosity, but he plodded along to tip out the dust and returned to his corner before satisfying his interest.
The script flowing over the page was a dark luxurious purple against the cream paper and the Yurble nodded approvingly, the match of colours was artistry. He then continued to look at what the message actually said...
Mr. Odd-job Bob the Yurble,
It has come to my attention that you are looking for a new job opportunity and I believe I have the solution to your search.
The Yurble smiled, he didn't know how this person knew about that, but it certainly was what he had been hoping for. He just hoped TNT didn't mind the change of service...
However as far as I can ascertain your current location is many miles away from where I require you to be, that is to say, Mystery Island.
Mystery Island? Now there's a place he hadn't been before, it could even be interesting. The Yurble read through it again, then tapped his claws on it, "Sounds reasonable," he said aloud in a mutter, "Don't see why I shouldn't go as no-one's turned up from TNT to offer me another job..."
Having decided this he ambled to collect all of his stuff up and thought, then carefully lifted the mop, taking off the end to reveal the old wooden staff, which he propped against the wall for a moment.
However the Yurble then looked at himself, all dressed up in his green toga and bright sash. He shook his head and looked over to the bag he'd put supplies in. He took a deep breath and removed the food from the sack, unfolding it to reveal a brown homespun garment that still fitted, clean, but poor, and reasonably well made.
Could he wear it again? It would be like wearing memories. Time seemed to stretch as he stared at the garment, scenes playing out in his mind's eye.
An orange Yurble child danced happily among flowers under his mother's eye. A teenager walking with his dad being told the names of all the plants. An adult beaming at a healthy field.
Then the images flickered, a wasp stung the child, the teenager was wrestling with a Blumaroo in the mud, the adult and his family forced out of their cottage. Bob shut his eyes. He didn't want to remember, wearing the brown tunic would be submitting to his old self, not the fierce Yurble he was known as.
His family. Bob fiercely turned away from that line of thought, slamming his fist into the wall with a thump that shook the room. There was an indistinct growl as the brown tunic was chucked on and the toga left neatly folded, though the yellow sash remained around his shoulder to hold the really important things. The orange paw found it's place on the staff and the door to the Hall Of Heroes slammed shut, a series of thumps leading away from the temple as the Janitor left.
The Yurble scowled as he carefully navigated his way through the crowds in Altador's main square, it kept everyone from walking into him. However he then realised something strange. Why were all the vendors wearing green sashes? With a frown the Yurble stumped over to the edge of the square and bent to tap a small Kacheek on the shoulder, "What's with the green? And why are you lot all wearing grey stuff?" Bob asked, noticing the grey sashes around the children's... no, orphan's bodies.
The kid stared at him like he was a freak, "Stop playin' around, everyone knows grey is street kids!" The kid lost his cocky look when he recognised the orange Yurble's face and gulped. Bob loved being recognised.
"I said..."
"Light green is merchants sir," the child replied promptly, eyes on the staff which the Yurble had idly started to spin around his front paws, "Grey is street kids, light blue is healers, dark blue is mage and the braid colour shows the element, white is cooks, dark yellow is transport, black is law, dark green is farmers..." He stopped as the Yurble brought the end of the staff to the floor with a thud.
"So what's odd-job man then?" he asked casually.
"Travelling people are light yellow sir." The child's eyes darted to the sash the Yurble was wearing and the fierce face above twisted into a smile, surprising the child.
"Well isn't that convenient. I bet a plain sash means unattached?"
"Yes sir, how come you don't know this already?" The child was probing for something.
"Busy working," the Yurble jerked his thumb back towards the Hall as he looked out over the crowd thoughtfully, "I think I'll be leaving ye now." He didn't even notice he was slipping back into his old accent as the old clothes became comfortable against his fur, scratching his back absently as he walked into the hollering crowd.
He also didn't notice the kid watch him for a moment before scampering off, too intent on finding out what else had happened during his absence. Surprisingly few people recognised the Yurble, and all looked at him suspiciously when he asked for information. His mood darkened as he left people whispering in his wake. Something was going on, and by heck he was going to find out.
He completely forgot the whispers when he heard the transport portals had vanished, mane standing up in a stiff brush. He was NOT going to swim the ocean! But he didn't have enough space for food to walk and there was a whacking great sea between here and Mystery Island!
However he also didn't have enough money to fly. Bob growled a curse when he realised the several months notice had been for precisely this reason, though how the sender had known he wouldn't fly... He fumed and realised this was the perfect excuse to visit his family, he had plenty of time after all, but what about food and the mountains?
With his well known hunter's grin he realised he could use the skills he'd forgotten, nothing would be more natural in this tunic... he cast an experienced buyers eye over the marketplace, the brilliantly visible and flimsy armour, the weapons they were selling were all so much faff, a staff was more than a match for anything he came across if you knew how to use it. You had to if you didn't want dead birds on the farm, and you wanted them alive so you didn't get a whole flock of them onto you, it was a mutual understanding.
All in all he ended up spending about 2000 Neopoints on simple food (Bloomin' inflation) before making his way, sometimes a little forcefully, through the crowd. His lips curled in a fierce grin when no-one could see the solid Yurble enjoying himself, it would completely ruin his reputation if he was spotted with anything but a scowl.
Eventually he was in the forests outside the city and shook off the grumpiness that came to him naturally in a city, he hadn't been in a forest in years, desert, Altador... With staff planted firmly in the ground at each step he began the long trek.
He had always liked working, came of being brought up on a farm, came of his gruff temper scaring away others, came of a deep feeling of being useful. That had all ended years ago. He had nothing to do now but think, and remember...
And thwack the occasional petpet that tried to steal his food! The thing flew sideways into a bush with a squark and the Yurble relaxed, staff moving to rest by his side as he continued to walk. He'd tried to fight the people who'd come to repossess his farm too, he had no debts! He had bought nothing!
He looked away, his anger had led to hitting the corrupt collector in the arm. For that he had been turned out, sued, he had to work for neopoints to send home. Bob wondered how his family were, did they still get the installments of money TNT were sending them? He still had questions buzzing round his mind when he tucked himself away in a bush, orange blending with green in a way that didn't seem entirely possible.
Not that his dreams were peaceful at all...
His staff spun, remembering old moves as he fought solidly, trapped in the centre of a crowd that never stopped coming, but never attacked, just pressed in until the impression of harm became more apparent. Fighting constantly until suddenly the images vanished and he could stop, propping his staff firmly on the grey sand at his feet.
Welcome, something said from nowhere. He glanced around to confirm his suspicions that there was no apparent end or features to the sea of grey sand he was on, "Where the heck am I?" his voice rippled strangely through the emptiness.
Asleep, the voice replied, but thinking.
"That makes NO SENSE!" he yelled, a flare of anger bending the air around him.
I'm doing you a service, did you not realise you didn't tire while fighting? You can practice anything here and it will not affect you.
The Yurble's eyes narrowed, "Who are ye?"
Someone who wishes to give you a helping hand.
The Yurble snorted derisively, his expression of contempt spreading through the place, "What do ye want?"
I want you to listen, I want you to think, but mostly I want you to get through this alive.
"Well doesn't that statement just fill me with confidence..." he grumbled sarcastically, "what do I have to be wary of?"
Those who wish to find you, you will need to be as silent as you were before.
"HOW DO YOU KNOW!" the Yurble yelled at the top of his lungs, "How do you know my thoughts, my life!"
You can find anything if you know where to look, there are many secrets in the dark...
"SHUT UP! I don't want to hear! I don't want to know!"
You have to remember if you want to live, their watchtower is one day's travel from you. If you wish then you can ask it to play here, you will be safe if you do so. The voice sounded almost kind as they spoke, as if they knew it was hard. There is one more night before you reach there if you want to put it off.
"No," he growled, looking to the side, "I've been putting it off for years."
There was definitely compassion in the speaker's voice. You will do well.
"Do well at what?"
He never got an answer. Instead the grey sanded plain melted away to be replaced by the grey of hard stone. The Yurble looked to his side and saw an indistinct shape beside him, then concentrated to reveal exactly what he expected. He'd always been good at hiding in plain sight, he was a person of the country, half-wild, of course he could, that's why he'd been hired.
The Yurble in the brown tunic picked up his iron-shod staff from its resting place on the floor, grip as secure as always. Bob followed his younger self, strolling through the corridors and memorising all over again the toll post's corridors, its labyrinth built to catch people trying to illegally cross through the pass without paying the extortionate fee. No wonder Altador and Shenkuu hadn't been found easily.
Admittedly he hadn't actually been there to cross, he'd deliberately walked into the open door they left after a little studying of the price and the inscription over the other door. "Those who take or miss the fee shall get and lose the chance to flee," he said suddenly, taking a mental bet and smiling in satisfaction when the other voice spoke.
You are excusing your actions. The Yurble scowled, of course that was what he had been doing, who wouldn't want to excuse what he had done?
"Their prices WERE extortionate,"
YOU were cheap.
That stung. They slipped into silence as he grumbled about being desperate, then stopped, "I know what happens next."
He looked on in horror as his counterpart pressed a switch and floated through the hidden staircase belonging to the common soldiers that patrolled the labyrinth, the next staircase was located with ease and the Yurble drifted up it, an orange shadow.
"Must I watch this?" he asked as his former self paused briefly at a lock before it opened without a sound. The pet stepped smartly to the side and out the way as the door swung open, catching it in his paw. The Yurble smiled, everyone thought they were so secure with the labyrinth below, none could get through there. Not even a determined Yurble.
Stop lying to yourself.
He hung his head in shame. "I was a thief... and an assassin."
A good one.
"I only did it to feed my family, but those people had wives too! Mothers! Sons!" Odd-Job Bob the Janitor closed his eyes tightly as the staff came down with a sickening crunch.
