Circle of Eights, Stories

Forums Yurara Fameliki’s Stories Circle of Eights, Stories

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      Back from the depths of his sleep, the dragon Naasir exhaled in a puff of smoke. He’d just woven a wonderful dream —for all dragons and creatures do dream of course, even if most humans doubt it.

      Yawning, Naasir stretched out his long slithery body. Fully stretched, his body was an impressive sight to behold. He was quite old by human standards, while in fact, he was still in his youth, and could very well stay as rambunctiously lively for many other long centuries.

      He had given the final touch to a new world he had been creating in his dream time for many nights now, and was rather proud of it —even if dragons knew no such thing as pride, his feeling at this very moment was very akin to being proud.

      He had filled this world with many wonders, dragons of course, and other creatures yet to be named. And magic was all pervasive in that world, and so slightly cloaked, that it could be used by many.
      It would be a great playground he thought, for he was not a possessive and dictatorial dragon. In fact, he could feel some others were about to step in, and tell and live the story of that world.

      Sighing in delight, like a sleepy cat of majestic dimensions, he cuddled again, about to sink deeply into the harp music playing in his mind, ready to dream and let that story be told again…

      Another Never Ending Story

      Malvina. That name had been thrown into a conversation Yann and Quintin had had together, during which Quintin had felt images come into his awareness. He had instantly liked that name.
      He was feeling the aura of a woman, long hair of a pale rosy color, with a noble bearing. That name had been around, and they had played with it to find more impressions.
      And they had felt it linked to breeding of dragons, in a sort of rookery.

      They’ve both felt her connected to Malika, an online friend of them, whose gentle touch and kindly influence, as well as her passion for dragons seemed to fit in quite interestingly.

      Then on an impulse, Quintin had begun to paint an image around it, letting his feeling guide his movements. He’d loved the peaceful environment he’d drawn, and even if he was not wont to share “unfinished” drawings, he immediately shared the initial sketches with Yann and Fiona.

      They both loved it, and Fiona even considered for a moment adopting one of the cute baby dragons to be born.
      “Buckberry” : that was the name Quintin felt for the baby dragon… But he did not see any character in that picture for Fiona. She would have to decide to step in, to get that baby dragon. What character would she be? A young impetuous rude adventuress, or an o(w)ld wizened witch? Perhaps a bit of both?

      These thoughts were now coming back to him.
      Ever since he had seen Yann’s pictures, those taken when he’d been in Old Albion, he had felt that something strange was manifesting.
      One of these intriguing coincidences: the picture of a cave that Yann has been visiting looked so strikingly similar to Malvina’s Rookery… And that playful kid in the cave was probably linked to Yann.

      So, now that the painting was finished, perhaps he could have people join in the fun. All that was required was imagination…

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    • #511

        :mummy: was still wandering about… what the fuck… :yahoo_idk: and suddenly she exploded like all those little lemmings in the game Oh No!




        In the saloon everybody became silent.

        That noise was so awful.

        What could it possibly be?

        As Jo entered the saloon, he was startled by the unusual quietness of it. And he was even more startled to see Mc Gaughran covered with bandages, filthy and juicy bandages. He seemed quite paralyzed with terror. Did he see something horrid? He was coughing harshly.

        Jo couldn’t help but laugh. And every one in the saloon began shyly to laugh also.


        Little Jo El Disperso was so damn irresistable, when that boy laughed, everyone couldn’t help but join in.

        F LoveF Love

          Arona curled up in front of the fire with little Yikesy. Vincentius was telling Yikesy one of his intriguing and colourful tales of far away, imaginary worlds …. there seemed to be men with toads and a girl who liked to dance and a strange blue bull creature that everyone wanted to get their hands on. To be quite honest, Arona couldn’t really follow it, but she loved the sound of Vincentius’ soothing voice. She sighed happily, it was so nice to be back.


          That Abe sure is ugly as a burnt boot and crazier than a run over coon, aint he, said Isadora, one of the saloon girls who Twilight didn’t cotton on to much. The other girls laughed.

          Twilight was real fond of old Abe, and truth was she was feeling right tetchy and pernikity and itching for a fight, and she weren’t much in the mood for dancing that night.

          And your brain cavity wouldn’t make a drinkin cup for a canary Isadora. So why don’t you just shut that big old stupid mouth of yours before everyone cottons on to the fact that you are studying to be a half-wit.

          Why you are nothing but a no-good little strumpet, screeched Isadora, lunging at Twilight and trying to grab her blond wig. Twilight stepped nimbly out of the way.

          And you aint nothing but a stupid little buckle bunny, taunted Twilight. You got nothing better to do then follow those rodeo fellows around?

          Snakes Alive! exclaimed Madame Butterbutt. Will you both hold yer tongues and stop yer bitching. And will you get a hurry on Twilight. Yer ain’t even dressed yet.

          Isadora started crying. That Twilight started it, she snivelled.

          Sooner i get rid of this damn one horse town the better, muttered Twilight under her breath. She touched the jewelled dagger lodged between her breasts. Those damn liquor breath cowboys better not mess with me tonight.

          Old Abe, propping up the bar, chuckled


            Becky scratched her head in confusion. She wondered if she’d ever catch up with all the new characters and story lines in the Reality Play. Who the fuck was Joe? Yeah, he was cute, but who was he?

            Becky sneezed again and shivered. Her cold was making her feel strangely disconnected and floaty. Nothing made much sense anymore, but it didn’t really seem to matter.

            F LoveF Love

              oh, well, it should be Jo, without an “e” I guess, said Tina. Hmmmm shall we just delete it then? It’s ages since I have deleted anything, and we can’t have it not making sense, she added, trying to keep a straight face. :face-plain:


              Claudio pulled himself together and bent over the dusty trunk. Of course it hadn’t opened on its own, he was imagining things. The contents were wrapped in an indigo shawl. Claudio peeled back the cloth, sneezed, and pulled out a jewelled dagger.


                Oh you and your delete button, Tina! And what rubbish, ‘we can’t have it not making sense’ Since when did it ever make sense? Don’t try and blame me for your delete disorder, sweetie pooh!

                Besides, Tina, you can spell Joe with an E or and A or a U, I still don’t know who the fuck Joe is.

                Tina sighed. Becky, have some more coffee.


                Claudio rubbed the grimy dagger on his shirt tail. There was a row of jewels along the hilt, ruby, emerald, sapphire, amethyst…


                  Becky, what is Sam talking about with all those stinky juicy bandages?

                  Fucked if I know, Tina, I was hoping you could tell me!


                    This Ogrean character seems to be getting alot of stick, eh, Tina, Becky was frowning.

                    Yeah, Tina agreed, Bit OTT if you ask me. Dunno what all that’s about.

                    Seems like a scapegoat really, Becky mused, but in truth she was perplexed.

                    F LoveF Love

                      hahaha, well fuck it, we had better ask Sam about the bandages, you ask him Becky, said Tina.

                      No you do it, Tina, said Becky

                      Sam has been calling me Saint Tina lately, said Tina

                      Oh for fucks sake Saint Tina, okay I will do it, said Becky

                      Do you think it suits me, you know the “saint” thing? I rather like it. Sam is such a sweetie-pooh said Tina.


                        Why are you whispering, Tina? Or should I say ‘Saint Tina’, Becky grinned wickedly.


                          hahaha, well fuck it, we had better ask Sam, you ask him Becky! Shouted Tina at the top of her voice.

                          F LoveF Love

                            oh goodness me


                              Get out of bed you lazy fuckwits, shouted Captain Hendrix. GET UP!! GET UP!! The storms a mile off Blinton Lighthouse, GET UP!!


                                Sawyer reached for his boots, his eyes still blind with sleep. He didn’t know how much longer he could cope with all this. Years ago, when he’d joined the Weather Incident Rescue Team, or WIRT, he’d imagined a relatively easy life, long spells of inactivity in which to play poker with his team-mates, and an occasional exciting incident. Little did he realize that he would be working on average a 100 hour week…and even then, the team was chronically short-staffed.

                                F LoveF Love

                                  oh for fucks sake Becky! Where did that come from? Tina resisted an urge to laugh hysterically.

                                  Wow said Becky, isn’t it great! It just came from nowhere!

                                  fun, fun, fun, muttered Tina. It is just fun, none of it matters.

                                  hahaha said Becky, yes, isn’t it fun! and I thought it would give Al something to do. He seems to spend alot of time fretting about his hair and nails lately,


                                    Jobson Batt and Ernie Young toasted each other with a warm glass of fine French brandy. Disaster Damage Team, or DDT, was doing fabulously well, and they congratulated themselves on their perspicacity and foresight.

                                    Another storm was heading for the west coast, and they chortled happily in anticipation of plenty more work for their booming business.

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