Search Results for 'aged'

Forums Search Search Results for 'aged'

Viewing 20 results - 281 through 300 (of 472 total)
  • Author
    Search Results
  • #3468

    “Fucking hell, THAT is monsoon…” a drenched Cheung Lok said to his unlikely traveling companion.
    It was days they were travelling through the bogs, following an ancient trail of signposts that the hook-legged man seemed to know about.
    The both of them were soaked to the marrow, and every step in the bog became perilous, as with each inch of raising water, there was no telling which hole in the landscape hid a shallow puddle or a deep trench.

    Cheung Lok felt like being back in China, during the rainy season, with the strange and absurd impression that having evoked the notion in the first place was the only explanation for the sudden change of weather. At least that was what the other had explained him, only succeeding in amplifying the event he meant to dissipate.

    How not to focus on rain, when rain is all there is. I bet a hygrometer would tell it’s 100% humid now…

    As soon as the thought was entertained, sure enough there was a funny-shaped hygrometer hanging by a small tree of the mangrove, telling exactly that. 100%

    – “倒霉!” Cheung Lok swore loudly, then got even more enraged when he noticed the Chinese swear word for shit happens “out of luck” meant “mouldy” and was written with the ‘rain’ 雨 radical.

    “You know what you need, a good old tiger slug to suck on your feet, pal. That’s a way to snap out of it.”

    “Well, thanks, but I’ll pass”, snickered Cheung Lok, wondering what flood gates would open if he started to peek into his repressed but genuine desires.

    #3464

    As distance grew between the P’hope and the city, the damage to the beanstalk had seemed to diminish. Funny how insignificant it seems when you looked at it from a distance, he thought. Unfortunately storks weren’t strong enough to fly above the clouds, and he had to go through a heavy rain above the Sea of Beliefs. Even if it was over now, his already heavy P’hopal robe was soaked, yet his mount was flapping its wings bravely to fulfill its duty.

    Jube could see the temple ruins. Sandwiched between the coastline and the bog, it was surrounded by wall of mist. Inside, old stones and broken columns were scattered around a lake, a stepped pyramid in its center. It looked like the mist was dissipating following a trail near the south. The P’hope squinted and saw a bright orange spot where it would open. He took his magnifier made of calcite crystals and looked through it. He clenched his teeth. The King was there, two great wings on his back. Spoiled brat, why don’t you never do as you’re told, he thought. He looked at the others and almost fell off the stork when he saw the little green one.

    Despite the change of skin color, he’d recognized her. So, Gwinie was alive. There was no time to lose. He suppressed a strong desire to confront them straight away, it would be counterproductive when he still had time to weave his web. He put the magnifier back in his bag and steered his mount toward the ruins.

    There didn’t seem to be any entrance on the pyramid’s faces, the P’hope tried to make his mount land on one of the step, but the animal didn’t respond to his orders. Instead, it glided over the water toward the top of one of those big columns still standing, missed it, slumped down on a patch of grass, and decided to stay there. Ranting about birds and incompetence, the P’hope managed to extricate himself from the mess of feathers and legs. He sniffed with disgust. With the humidity, a strong smell of wet fowl had impregnated his robe. Feeling stuck and heavy, he considered getting undressed, he still had his silk gown underneath.

    “Happy bird day!” said a cheering voice behind him.
    The P’hope felt a sudden rush of panic, the voice sounded like his aunt Ursula. He looked around, guilt on his face as if caught a hand in his pants. He had forgotten it was his birthday, he had never liked birthdays. Who could possibly know ? It took a moment to his mind to make sense of what he was looking at. It looked like a pink zebra with a melting candle on its forehead, but the form seemed yet uncertain of itself. That was disturbing.

    “I’m Rene, I hope we can be friends,” said the pink zebra. The creature fidgeted as if it had drank too much from the moat. “We can begin the party now, or wait for you friends to arrive. I’m so excited !”
    Jube shuddered, the animal had a crazy spark in his eyes that made him feel uneasy. He looked at the stork which hadn’t moved since the crash landing. No h’ope from Heaven.

    #3458

    Rene has been lonely. He stopped counting the centuries long ago, long after his creators had left Abalone. Long before the first settlers arrived and began to plant seeds of discord. He had been appointed by his creator to be the guardian of the threshold. He had long forgotten what it meant. He only wanted friends.

    When the first humans arrived, it seemed that they could be great friends. But they didn’t see the beauty of the temple, only its ruin. Which was sad, very sad. And so Rene stood alone in the old temple, the new temple, the middle aged temple, depending on the time corridor he took.

    Now, for the first time in eons, people were on their way to the temple. He would meet them with might and glory. He seemed to remember that most humans revered unicorns as symbol of purity and fairy tails, at least that’s what Rene heard from the mind of one of the newcomers. Lost in between aphids, Jack and asses. He didn’t know who was Jack. Anyway, he had chosen his sphinx shape. Rene would be a unicorn.

    #3449

    The Master Builder’s verdict was hard to swallow.

    “Your Holiness?”

    The P’hope knew his options were limited, but somehow he had hoped, in spite of the King’s disappearance, in spite of the odds, that somehow he could manage to keep the City afloat.
    But the beanstalk’s wilting was not something that could be stopped, and the aphids were just one manifestation of the rampant symptoms. Like all living things, there was an expiry date, a deep-rooted belief in death that trumped all the efforts.
    The only thing they could do was to prepare for a difficult landing, and salvage what could be salvaged of his beautiful City of Karmalott.

    “Your Holiness?”

    “I heard you the first time, Downson.” The P’hope carefully removed his silver zucchetto and put it aside.
    “We need to prepare for evacuation. Have the Sentries prepare all the storks and cranes they can find. Send a detachment of Magi to secure an encampment at a safe landing spot. Then give orders to evacuate all the people you can.”

    “What about you, Your Holiness?” Downson’s question was likely to be pure formality, but Jube answered nonetheless

    “I’ll go to an ancient place, the source of power of this island. I wished I could avoid it, but if there is a glimmer of hope, it is my holy duty to follow it.”

    “Shall we send people to escort you?”

    “No, I would prefer to go there alone. It is the kind of powerful places one would prefer to visit alone than badly accompanied.”

    “Then, good luck to you.”

    “As well, Downson.”

    #3441

    Dark clouds had gathered in the sky, the temperature had dropped of several degrees, making the breeze feel colder. The group had been walking for hours in the bog toward the elusive temple. With the darkness of the clouds, its mirage had begun to fade away. Greenie had said they’d better stop when the image was gone because they could become lost.

    They had managed to make a wet campfire, and were trying to get warmth from the fleeting flames.
    “I had a strange dream last night”, said George to Arona who was sitting next to him.
    She smiled politely, not sure she wanted to hear about the winged man dreams. She considered standing up and being rude.
    “I was a teenager”, he continued, wrapping himself into his wings.
    Arona rolled her eyes inwardly, looking around for help. Mandrake was sleeping under her cape.
    “An island appeared one day on the coast, people thought it was an ancient magic island and feared to approach it. It was visible only for a couple of days. It was such a weird dream.”
    “Maybe you should write it down”, said Arona.
    “Oh! Probably not, if the P’hope gets hold of it, I have the feeling it’s not in my interest.” He grinned like a kid. “Anyway, I knew in the dream that the island was still there, it was still reachable. So one day I took my father’s boat. It was a small boat, not made to go too far from the coastline. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. I went into the mist, completely trusting I would find this island that everybody feared. It was rising tide, and I had to fight the current pushing me to the shore. I think it’s a dream who brought me there, a dream of a girl calling me in a garden. George
    “Is that all?” asked Arona after a moment of silence from George.
    “Yes, it’s most certainly a silly dream, I’ve lived in Karmalott my entire life.”
    “You’ll have to work on your dream telling, pal”, said Mandrake, “the punchline is missing.”

    Nobody noticed how the flames of the fire were dancing into the green girl’s eyes.

    #3428
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      “But Mother, she is vile and hateful, you wouldn’t believe the things she makes us do, it’s not fun anymore!”
      “Well you know what they say, Cedric, if it’s not fun don’t do it. Although,” his mother added, “You are a bit lacking in discipline.”
      “That’s like a contradiction in terms! It doesn’t make any sense!”
      “Life’s like that” was the rather pointless reply. “When are you coming to visit me?” she started the usual whining. “All your life I’ve been crossing the oceans to come and see you, but you wouldn’t cross a puddle for me, your poor old mum.”
      Cedric could feel his stomach knotting.
      “But Mum, I can’t leave now, I’d be letting the others down, I can’t leave them here on their own with that prune faced troll.”
      “I see,” replied his mother, sniffing pathetically, “I know where I stand. Don’t you bother about your poor old mum, you have fun and don’t worry about me, I’ll manage somehow.”
      “I just told you I wasn’t having fun, you…you….” but Cedric couldn’t bring himself to say it. Not to his mother. But he thought it, and his stomach twisted painfully.
      Cedric spent the rest of the day trapped in the mental justifying conversation he was having in his head; the energy he was beaming out unwittingly encouraged the dwarf to single him out, adding to his misery.
      Cedric was trapped between the rock of his responsibility to his mother, and the hard place of Anna Purrna’s cane.

      #3425
      Jib
      Participant

        “I’m here to make this all business profitable for the investors”, said Anna Purrna to the Queens when they complained about her manners. “They find you are too sloppy and too young to manage such a venture”, she was punctuating each sentence with her cane. It was an understatement to say that she was not very pleasant to look at.
        “We were managing very well without interference from the Network, until now. And we were having fun”, said Cedric. “Now it seems that all the fun has been taken away”, he added on an impulse. He had been the one designated by his peers to be their voice. The two other Queens were nodding just behind in the shadow.

        “Oh! You want fun ?”
        The three young boys nodded in unison, encouraged by the sweet tone of her voice.
        “I’ll give you fun! This is the Cane of Byrna. You know Zelda ? Oh! Maybe you are too young. It’s a video game from when you were not even spermatozoons and eggs. Anyway, adding to its magical powers, it can be used for music”, the dwarf showed her plain metallic cane, a big smile on her crooked face. “57 Push-ups ! Each of you.”
        “One! (Bam) Two! (Bam)… And sing with me : BUSINESS IS NOT FOR FUN, BUSINESS IS TO MAKE MONEY !
        Whenever one of the boys were to miss a push-up, they would receive each a blow on the back with the rod.

        #3422

        When Berberus arrived at Gazalbion, still wet from his swim down beanstalk through the City’s sewer waterslides, the Great Processor in person came to great him.

        “Dear, dear, what have we here. That’s not so often the P’hope sends someone down here with us poor heathen… To what do we owe the pleasure?”

        By the look of his office, the Processor was doing well. Small favours had earned him enough belief of his worth, and his office was full of amenities otherwise hard to come by and much more to sustain, down there.

        “Would you share with me some hydromel, made from waterbee honey, you’re not mistaken. That should help you get more… comfortable.” He said his last word intently, giving a look at the hook-leg.

        Berberus liked to have people guess at why he kept it so visible, while obviously he could have conjured enough belief to alter it himself. It gave him an edge over them. And the hook gave nasty scars too.

        “Not drinking on duty.”
        “Very well, suit yourself.” the Processor said drinking his voraciously.

        “Any strange people coming lately? Out of the ordinary beliefs to contain?”
        The other brushed off the question “No, not really… Now, about this promotion our dear friend the P’hope mentioned back in 2020, what do you think… Any chance to get out of this hellhole? Promised Land my butt. What do we get next? Flying whales?”
        “You’re not. Answering. My. Question.” Berberus was already losing his patience and started to mentally conjure the many painful ways he could believe this talk would end.
        “I have already answered it, and if you have nothing else to share with me, you might as well me back to your sad master.”

        The Processor made a movement to get up from his chair, but a swift and precise swipe of the hook-leg anchored him back in it.

        The other was looking at him with empty eyes, and the Processor’s mistake was to think he was an idiot that could be sent away easily.
        He poured himself another drink, casually answering with a “We’re done. Get out.”

        When Berberus got out, it was of his own volition, leaving a trail of blood up to the door.
        He had managed to extract one word from the slob before his soul left his body: Sanso

        #3418

        “What a…” King Artie almost lost his smile after being dumped by Arona on the edge of the cliff.
        Fear not, little chipmunk, I will have you soon wrapped around my finger…

        He looked inside his bag for the precious bottled elixir. He’d managed to steal it from the P’hope’s apothescary. Among a bizarre collection of dried insects, the P’hope had some vials of pure waterbee’s royal jelly mixed with p’hopolis.
        Collecting the essence of flowers from all over the kingdom and distilling the mass beliefs into this life-sustaining elixir, the waterbees royal jelly and p’hopolis had many properties, a bit like a wish-fulfilling gem in liquid form.
        He knew using it would probably trigger some false notes in the mass belief organ of the P’hope, risking alerting him, but he had no choice, the damsel was already getting out of view, and he couldn’t spend days crawling down the shaky beanstalk.

        “Who said we couldn’t grow wings” he said after a gulp of the precious potion. That was the magic formula he needed.

        The smile returned as wings started to sprout out of his back, and without a second’s hesitation, he followed the sexy flying squirrel in mouldy cloak-wings.

        #3400

        If the sabulmantium was to be trusted, the beanstalk was a tangle of many paths, and the main and easiest accesses down its dangling twirly greenish tentacles were all outside of the city walls, in a zone where some lords managed to rule pockets of mass beliefs and a bunch of unattractive mongrel mobsters.

        “Sounds potential adventure material” Mandrake had had the nerve to say when they’d packed.
        “No it isn’t” Arona had said.
        Then with more gusto “NO IT ISN’T” as though to convince all the sleepy tarts of the nymphouse below her rented room.

        More doubts had sunken their claws in her tender heart, and a gulp of whatever astral cup didn’t seem in hindsight a worthy deal for all her troubles. Nonetheless, she was a woman of her word, which was probably why she wasn’t of many. Too much trouble being of all of them, whatever that meant.

        “Honestly Mandrake, keeping you on track is worse than herding… dragons.”
        She would have said sheep, but she wasn’t so rude yet. Mandrake could have taken that too badly, and he would again prove useful to distract the guards of the Southern Post. That’s where she decided to go, as with all the heat, it had to be the one less guarded.

        Indeed, when she arrived, as planned, the gate was badly manned, and sleepy soldiers where reaching for the rare spots of shadow.
        She decided to make a run for it. The soldiers didn’t look very fit. She started to go, thinking about zigzagging between the air bottles littering the plaza, when she felt a tug pulling her back by the cloak, almost sending her flying off her butt.

        FUCK!” she shouted as silently as she could. “You again! I thought I told you not to follow me! Mandrake, attack! Go for the balls!”

        She was in a fury, but Mandrake licked his paw with a disgusted look on his face that meant “Hnhn, not going for that, sweetie. You’re on you own to herd that dragon, my lovely pooh.”

        “Shhht!” the guy said with a bit smile.
        “Don’t shush me, you… ninnyhammer!”
        She didn’t know where the last word came from, but they sure felt good, although not quite rude enough.
        “Oh, the lady is a pirate who knows her insults.” he answered with his cocky smile.
        “Don’t mock me, you mooncalf”
        “You were trying to sneak out, were you?”
        “Why do you care, hobbledehoy?”
        “The guards have aircon chain-mail and armours, see, look at those bottles on their backs… How could you beat them running with your heavy cloak?”
        “Maybe Mr Snollygoster has a better suggestion?”
        “Of course I have, if you care to follow me, Ms Mumpsimus.”

        Arona was almost speechless. Not keen on following any stranger, she asked her guts, and they seemed to have a liking for the handsome fellow. It stirred old remembrance of going with the flow tactics, and when she did actually follow him, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he and Mandrake were already ahead in one of the alleys.

        “Oh, no, let him have the keys to some secret tunnel, I won’t go for another sewer escape!”
        As if her guardien angel has heard her secret prayer, it happened that the stranger had some strange stone key in his bag, opening a secret wall entrance.

        “Oh.” was all she conceded to the stranger.
        Nonplussed he offered her his hand “George” he presented himself still with the same broad smile.
        She took his hand haughtily, and entered the vaulted tunnel, not telling him yet her name, in case she felt like choosing a sexy and mysterious code name. She could trust no one…

        “Traitor” she hissed at Mandrake who was purringly looking at the strangers’ boots.

        #3397
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Jack gave Fluke a slap as he ran past and shouted at him, laying the law down about it reminding the dog that he was not allowed to leave the perimeter of the enclosure for his own safety, and for the peace of mind of his own responsibility guidelines, not to mention what Lisa would say if she found out when she got back from the island.

          As soon as Jack was finished laying the law down, he called Fluke over and gave him a big cuddle, not wanting to give him a reason to try and escape again.

          Still puzzling it over, Jack went back inside and resumed perusing his intercon. BREAKING NEWS!!! he read. ““Those who are still continuing in directions of control are expressing it louder and louder very similar to a screaming child trying to gain the parents attention after the parent has already expressed No.” Disengaged Global Authority On Everything Comments On Global Affairs.

          Well, that’s food for thought, thought Jack. I expect I can hamster wheel with that all day.

          #3396
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Jack was astonished when the neighbour appeared at the gate to inform him that one of the dogs had escaped the enclosure. Big Fluke, the scruffy buffoon of the dog pack, too daft (or so Jack thought) to even know there was anywhere outside the tall fences, has somehow managed to escape and was wandering around in the road. Jack checked all the fences ~ there was no sign anywhere indicating a break out. There were three tunnels in the compost heap though. Could he have tunneled his way out?

            #3374
            Jib
            Participant

              Amber Graystone was dead. Killed by a bunch of masked men. Linda Pol would be dead also if it weren’t for Mr Graystone, whatever his firstname was. That man knows how to use his gun, she thought. Too bad he was caught by surprise. He managed to kill the three men before they could hurt anybody, but it seemed they had gotten to their main target anyway.

              “They tried a car incident, poison. I thought I could protect her”, the man was holding his wife, tears in his voice. She had been shot in the head. One clean wound meant to kill. Linda Pol didn’t want to state the obvious, they were professionals. A vibration in her purse signaled a message on her e-zapper.

              Sorry for the glitch. It seems the Chinese have found a way to cloak themselves from our surveillance. Retrieve the data from the husband. The Management
              The queen began to wonder if they were the network management after all. Why would a TV network have a surveillance system and warn them about the Chinese ? Why would they send her meet a random scientist in Hawai’i ?

              While Mr Graystone was grieving his wife, Linda Pol took the liberty to remove the masks of the dead squad. The Chinese indeed. Nothing that could be useful, they all looked the same for her.

              She received another message.
              Move quick. Others are coming. The Management

              “You know”, she said aloud, “I think we should move.”
              “I can’t leave my wife here.”
              “I know, sweetie. But I think she’s already gone. And I fear those men are not be the only ones after your wife’s secret. Do you have any idea how we can get out discretly ?”

              A buzz from her e-zapper told her she just got her answer.

              #3372
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                More on the mysterious island of Abalone and the city of Karmalott

                (initial background)

                We find out that the island named Abalone has some unaware people trapped in isolated pockets of their own dreamlike experiences (that usually loop onto themselves for people not trained in being conscious enough to actually remember their dreams). The Surge Team girl hunting giant mosquitoes is one such case.
                Hopefully, Irina seems to manage to get a more stable and peaceful experience, while somehow being tied to the bog-like area where she extracted the teen girl she calls Greenie (whom we find out later more about).

                The island was claimed by the Chinese across time, but they were never successful, as the nature of the island seems to have broken all their attempts. Nevertheless, Cheung Lok, who was hunting down Irina to retrieve her robot is sent on a doomed mission there, by being parachuted off a plane above its current believed location.

                We find out there is a large City built above the clouds, named Karmalott by the locals, possibly on top of a large beanstalk which can be perceived only by those knowing and believing in it (and possibly able to bypass some counter-charms placed by the magi and the protection of the Sentries (who can create creatures of nightmares for the purpose of protection from unwanted ill-believing souls).

                The main area of the Island is called by people from Karmalott, the Fog Abyss, or the Pit of Lost Souls. It seems certain rites of passage involve young people and would-be knights going to and back the Fog Abyss, usually protected by Magi for safety purpose (avoiding them to get trapped for all eternity if they are not able to break the fog of their own creations or get enlightened).
                It seems Greenie (or Gwinie, being her real name) was purposely left in the bog for yet undetermined purposes.

                In Karmalott, we find out the Order of the Magi, ruled by the P’hope who are in charge of resting and balancing the mass beliefs so that the City can thrive.
                The City is ruled by the King, who has military power over the Sentries, led by the General Parsifal. He is assisted by the Chamberlain Downson, a strange figure who seem to know many secrets, such as the Saint Amber Graastral Stone Cup, which is purported to hold many powers, and bring illumination to the virtuous.

                Other layers of the organization are to be explored, such as the place of the feminine in the society.
                The rule of the King appears to be just and fair, although the reality is maybe less spotless. The motto of Karmalott is “Only in unity can we thrive” (or in broken Latin, sed in unum proficio), and it reflects in the democratic principle of public petition, where anyone can ask for rules and manifestations to be bent or adjusted.
                In reality, it seems most people have become used to a way of life without any strife or war, and petitions are rare.

                It is not known at this point if there are other areas on the island where significant people have managed to gather consistently enough to be able to create a mass-believed reality with the same level of development as Karmalott, but it seems unlikely, as the state of the island is monitored by the Sentries, and they would detect significant changes and clearing of the Fog, while the P’hope would surely detect any conflicting beliefs that would clash with the ones entrusted to him.

                (to be continued…)

                #3367

                Irina turned to little Greenie, who had so far only communicated in body langage, and little more than grunts.

                “Dearie,” she took the little face in her hand to look her in the eyes. There was slight resistance in the girl’s, but she was compliant enough that the feedback encouraged Irina to continue. “I believe, you know how to talk, this grunting telepathic business is getting tedious, and Mr R isn’t telepathic, you see…”
                “But Madam…” Mr R’s beginning to protest was quickly hushed by Irina.
                “You understand, don’t you?… Yes you do. Communicate with me, okay? You’ve been there longer than I am, and we probably can help each other.”

                Greenie’s eyes were showing clear signs of intelligence, and yet, there was some trauma still at the surface that she seemed to process, which made interaction tricky.

                Greenie pointed at the place were Irina had tried to meditate for the past hours.
                “Oh no, not again…” she sighed. She sat again cross-legged, but this time Greenie wasn’t finished.
                “What is? What are you trying to tell me?” Irina was confused. She hoped it was not about praying, but then realized that Greenie wanted to join.

                So they sat in front of each other, with Greenie’s small palms pressed to hers, and again started to meditate.
                “Mr R, some music of the angels, if you will”

                After a while, Mr R’s lulling music managed to appeased even the confused Huhu, and Irina started to feel a difference, as though she had broken out of her mind, and could connect to the teen girl in their light bodies.

                #3366

                “I’m rubbish at meditation!” Irina said, opening her eyes after her tenth session in a row.

                Mr R, who’d been waiting for her to come back from her inner trip, was, as usual, quick to dispense soothing encouragements
                “Madam doesn’t give herself enough credit. After all, you have managed to… shall I say… appear this quaint bird.”

                What? Irina looked at the direction Mr R was pointing at. That darn parrot again?!
                Indeed, looking quite puzzled to be on one of the bog’s shrubs, Huhu was tilting, or rather bobbing his heard from left to right in a pendulous and rhythmical fashion, while Greenie was jumping around the shrub eager to catch the colourful beast.

                “Then, that only confirms my suspicions…” she said. She had briefly connected to the bird, just about when she was processing the bleedthrough shotgun attack to bring her thoughts back to clarity. You wish… Sometimes the minds works in endless mysteries; she couldn’t tell why the bird came up in her thoughts, but it was apparently all it needed to appear there.

                #3363

                The Time Seam Bar, as they renamed it, for all the efforts put in it had a slow start, but after a few weeks started to do extremely well.

                Admittedly there was a bit of a public relationship boost offered (not quite completely out of generosity obviously) by the cable network. They’d been alerted of the re-purposing of the Time Sewer facility by the Queens after a routine control of their presence on cleaning duty. The report wasn’t glowing, but somehow a business-oriented member of the Board managed to get the Cable Network to lend some money and advertisement to bring the little venture to the next level.

                Props got a major overhaul and interior designers helped rearrange the space. They even got the Queens an impersonator of St Germain, an old has-been forgotten star who was still on the Network’s payroll and whom they didn’t know what to do with. He was actually doing a brilliant St Germain.

                Amar was in the room at the back, doing some accounting while Reginald was at the bar and Cedric was managing the fat dancers and, of course, St Germain’s shows. So far, the arrangement worked well, and they were quite proud of their success. Cedric’s mother couldn’t stop her praises and rants on the website’s page, so they had to moderate it a bit, but that was basically the most trouble they were in.

                “Another day gone well…” Reginald was removing his wig and make-up, with Amar still counting the last cash made for the day.
                “Reg’, I’ve started to remember things from our visit at the techromancer’s hut, I still don’t know what to do of it.”
                “I’ve been remembering stuff too… Some scary shit.”

                #3349
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  The Continuing Adventures of the Three Time Traveling Maids From Versailles.

                  The three maids, Fanella (previously known, briefly, as Fanetta), Mirabelle, and Adeline and the three time travelling Russian stage hands, Igor Popinkin, Boris and Ivan, leave Paris in the 18th century via hot air balloon, heading for the Tower of Hercules on the Galician Coast, with Mirabelle’s parrot. Sporadically they are assisted by Pseu Dan, a cross between a sort of oversoul 8 and a future focus with cloaking abilities and other skills, who tends to be unreliable due to a fixation on building a folly of tiles in the City.
                  After a series of mishaps attempting to board the ghost galleon of Belen, an Amazonian shapeshifting timetravelling pink dolphin pod comes to their rescue, and they find themselves washed up on a beach near the Pillars of Hercules (Spanish side) in the year 2020 and are found by Lisa, a middle aged Englishwoman. She takes the six timetravellers back to her village, an experimental new kind of community in the orange groves not far from the beach.
                  Jack is Lisa’s partner, and other inhabitants of the village include Etienne and Pierre.

                  Mirabelle and Igor continue an on/off tempestuous affair, Mirabelle often considering Igor (somewhat unfairly) a feckless whoremongering cretin. Igor considers himself to be an average adventurous funloving young man willing to explore new opportunities.
                  Mirabelle, once considered to be the bossiest of the three maids, finds she has no need to control the others in the absence of the responsibilities of working long hours for others at Versaille. Initially she struggled with learning the new languages, but was easily diverted from the worry and thus learned with ease, after the unexpected trip to Portugal (looking for the stolen whale tile) with Lisa. Lisa finds herself strangely attracted to Mirabelle while under the influence of sangria.

                  Adeline settled into the new timeframe by pursuing her fascination with the unfamiliar multitude of coloured plastic objects, making them into sculptures. She and Boris have an easy ongoing friendship; Boris and Ivan settle into life at the village by taking an interest in car and tractor mechanics and farming, and digital photography.

                  Fanella was the most unsettled, yearning to return to the familiar hometimezone in Versaille. She found peace in solitude outside in natural surroundings, often practicing teleporting and projecting by the river or in the woods. She rediscovers her adventurous spirit after a series of teleport and time travelling mishaps. Her unexpected meeting with Sanso in the Great Fire of London in 1212 starts another chain of teleport and timetravel adventures, as she is now determined to reach the island in 2121 that she read about in an old book of Lisa’s called Circle of Eights and Other Stories.

                  #3346
                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    Some update on the current plots and maps:

                    Queens Team

                    Our main protagonists seem to have yet to digest their past adventure…

                    In Marseille, 2121, contestants in a Drag Queen’s contest, they had their first mission through Time Sewer mysteriously sending them in Louis XV’s Versailles, and start a quest for mysterious ferrets with keys, helped in their travelling by their ex-judge turned chaperon Sadie, equipped with an all purpose e-zapper, and the batty Sanso always keen on providing the strangest travelling devices.

                    They find one of the keys in the stolen ferret left in the Chapel before they even really start on their quest. Not long after that, they are also robbed of their dance opportunity and show minutes before the attempt on the King’s life, due to the network cancelling their show (and decommissioning the Time Sewer). In a last ditch attempt from Linda Pol to provide the network with a valuable pilot material for the television show, she remembers references of a crystal (sent to her anonymously), and have the Queens propelled in year 2222, Big Island, Hawaii. On arrival, they chill and get sidetracked on a visit to a (you guessed it, mysterious) techromancer.

                    It all appears to be part of the plan to gain life-everlasting by transmuting gold of a (yes, mysterious) cranky old billionaire in kilts named Jonbert who is living in a time-travelling submarine with sentient robots, and who has manipulated events so that the Drag Queen show would place them in possession of a special set of keys that he could then retrieve from them.
                    Unsurprisingly, nothing works for him as planned.

                    Unknown to him, the Queens had only secured one of the keys, the other being unwittingly carried away by maids of Versailles during their balloon escape, with a parrot named Huhu. Manipulated by Irina, a… err… mysterious Russian socialite with a trusty robot Mr R at her side, the parrot steals the key, but faints of exhaustion during the escape in the ocean. The parrot is however rescued by on a ghost galleon and revived by its occupants, who are on their way to a particularly momentous whale gathering in 2222. Sidetracked by a navigation tile displacement, they are in the end successful in beating the odds and arrive too in Hawaii 2222.

                    Equipped in breathing wetsuits, the Queens are sent in the depths of the ocean, where their clumsy and noisy explorations are carefully followed by the octopi and other inhabitants of the underwater world.
                    They get sidetracked and temporarily separated when some go exploring underwater caves.
                    Whales are gathering, and activating the giant crystal, when everyone arrives at the scene. Somehow, Mr R on Irina’s orders manages to provide to an unsuspecting Sadie the second key, which has been expertly tempered with.
                    Sadie, realizing this is the missing key, activates it, and unleashes a chain of events leading to a earth-shattering revelations and a breathtaking video of a St Germain hologram doing karaoke with whales and other gyrating cetaceans drunk on red algae.

                    The network is saved, and they are safely sent back to Marseille, where they are welcomed back by Linda Pol. It earns them a contract, which turns out to be mostly for the decommissioned Time Sewer maintenance.
                    They plan to turn it into a bar, in a re-enactment of their minute of fame, with fat pole-dancers as whales, and St-Germain impersonators singing contests.
                    Not much is heard from Sadie, who had managed to get a raise and less working hours, or of Linda Pol, last seen in Maui island, Hawaii, 2121.

                    #3342

                    “I don’t know!” Jeremy shouted at the guy with the round spectacles and the Chinese traditional garments full of intricate Chinese button knots.

                    The guy showed no sign of losing patience although they’d asked him the question whole morning long.
                    “That is unfortunate, Jeremy” the guy in charge said slowly. He was stroking Max in long broad stokes, flattening the ears with his palms, while the cat was purring like an engine oblivious to the danger in the room. “As you know, there are many ways to skin a cat…”

                    “Don’t you dare harm Max!”

                    “So let us recap from the start” the Chinese man said. “You told us you don’t know the man, or his companion. That they appeared and disappeared in a rag, to destination unknown.”
                    Jeremy nodded, trembling of rage at the way the man was holding his cat.

                    The Chinese man gave a brush of hand, which all the goons in the apartments took as a cue to leave them two alone.
                    When they were all gone, he tightened his grip around the cat’s soft neck, and leaned closer to Jeremy:

                    “My friend, the trace we left in our fugitive’s stomach led us to your place, so there is no doubt he was there. How he disappeared again is a mystery you will help us solve, whether you want it or not.”

                    Jeremy looked at him quizzically “so why don’t you use your trace to locate him again?”

                    “The problem is, by now, either he’s digested and dumped it somewhere in a hot steaming pile of shit, or he’s managed to cloak the signal. Those things were to be expected. I guess he went to you for a reason. He wasn’t able to locate our thief’s location without your help. So now, you will help us do the same.”

                    Jeremy protested “But we tried it already, with the cucumber and all, but it didn’t work!”
                    Somehow, a thought came with brief and intense clarity to him. The Chinese man noticed the glimmer in Jeremy’s eye and smiled thinly.
                    “What is it?”
                    “The map was working for him, as well as the cucumber, for some unexplainable reason. But not for you or me, it doesn’t mean anything! Of course! We have to try something different, focus on finding the person or thing you want, and let me draw another map.”

                    Cheung Lok was starting to feel closer than he had been in months. He untied Jeremy, and gave him the cat. “Do it, do it now.”

                    Jeremy lifted Max, tenderly wrapping the cat’s soft body like a scarf on his shoulders. He reached for the wall and took a coloured pin off the cork-board.

                    While the Chinese guy was busy calling back his goons, Jeremy quickly started to draw on the skin of his arm a symbol with swirly lines, and going in a trance, started to dance into a swirling vortex.

                    “He’s escaping!” Cheung Lok shouted in Chinese to the others, “Catch him!” he said, striving, but only too late, to catch the youngster who had just disappeared with his cat inside the vortex which was already rapidly closing around them.

                  Viewing 20 results - 281 through 300 (of 472 total)