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  • #1257
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      “Don’t bother me with that now, Godfrey! Can’t you see I’m swamped with ideas? I’ve got so many things to write I simply don’t know where to start. Which is why I’m starting right here and now, with the issue of the writer being overloaded with potential story lines.”

      Elizabeth ran her hands through her hair distractedly, and impatiently pushed the miniature giraffe off her lap.

      “Relax, Liz”. Singularly unruffled, Godfrey picked up the giraffe and stroked his neck. “Tranquilo, Lizzie, tranquilo!”

      “What? Oh, well done Godfrey, that’s taken care of one thing off my list then! One of my theme words had to be a foreign word.” Elizabeth started to relax. “And what finer word is there than tranquilo, eh, what a marvellous word.”

      “Indeed” replied Godfey “But is that the correct usage of the creative writing theme words? I mean, really, you could just write ‘Liz had a list of theme words and they were a foreign word, dual~duel, marmalade sunrise, appreciate and adore, summer rain, beyond the horizon’ and leave it at that, couldn’t you?”

      Godfrey, you are clever!” Elizabeth congratulated herself. “But what about all the other ideas?”

      “Well, why not start by making a list? Jot down a few clues. Or just start writing, and see what happens. I’ll put the kettle on while you make a start, fancy a cuppa?”

      “Oooh yes please! Finnley bought some new teabags this week, quite spicy they are as well.”

      Godfrey sniggered as he disappeared into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder “Have you got any of those gingerbread men left?”

      #1230
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        With the weak Scottish sun warming their backs, India Louise and Cuthbert made sand castles on the deserted beach. Very few holidaymakers visited The Orkneys in the days when the Wrick twins were growing up (Elizabeth was tempted to add ‘whenever that was’ but refrained) and they had the beautiful sweep of coastline to themselves, all but for their nanny, the eccentric Breton, who was sitting on a tartan blanket in the sand dunes practicing her Scottish accent. Nanny had heard somewhere that a Scottish accent had been voted the ‘most reassuring in an emergency’, and in her position as nanny, she felt it would be an advantage, especially while working for the eccentric and adventurous Wrick family.

        Seagulls squawked overhead as she recited “… pRRoid te the lowkel in-abitents und steps av bin tayken in RResunt yeers… to improve the appearance of the city …… impRRoov the appeeRents uv the citay…

        Nanny’s studies were interrupted by shrieks from the two children, who were running down to the waters edge, pointing towards an unusual object which appeared to be floating towards them on the incoming tide.

        By the time Nanny reached the children the mysterious floating contraption had beached itself on the sand. As India Louise and Cuthbert paddled over to it, a wizened and emaciated Ella Marie Tindale whooped and cackled “Hooley Mooley, that was quoot a rood!”

        Och aye, ma wee bairns, dinnae tooch it!” shouted Nanny “Ye dinnae ken owt aboot it, och! Oof, and what ‘ave we ‘ere, what eez zeess?” she said, lapsing back into her natural French accent, in a state of shock at what the tide had brought in.

        The twins became alarmed immediately, backing away and asking nervously “Is it an alien?” “Is it a ghost?” so Nanny resumed the reassuring Scottish accent.

        Nay ma wee poppets, och and it’s nowt but anoother mummay!

        Cuthbert and India Louise exchanged looks surreptitiously. “What does she mean, ‘another’ mummy?” whispered Cuthbert to his sister. “How did she find out about the mummy in the unlocked room?”

        “I don’t know!” she whispered back “Maybe she heard me telling Bill!”

        Nanny gave both of the children a cuff round the back of the neck, reminding them of their manners.

        Help ze lady off and ztop zat rude wheezpering!

        #1224
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Of course, there were probable versions of Snettie and Snooter that remained in Spreal, as well as probable versions that left Spreal much earlier. There was a probable reality in which Snooter and Snettie, and their freinds Spagwan and Illiofilly (sometimes spelled Iliophile) journeyed north a decade previously, as indeed there are probable realities in which Snooter and Snettie journeyed north, but Spagwan and Iliophile stayed behind.

          “This could go on ad infinitum Godfrey, I better rein myself in” remarked Elizabeth, more to herself than to her friend Pig Littleton, who appeared to be engrossed in scrutinizing peanuts one at a time before popping then into his mouth and chewing them thoughtfully.

          “Where were you planning to go with it, anyway?” asked Godfrey, inspecting another peanut.

          “Well, I didn’t have a plan actually. I just started writing, really. And kept on writing until I reined myself in, and then….”

          “And then what happened?” asked Godfrey, a trifle mischievously.

          “And then the writing stopped.” Elizabeth laughed.

          “How very singular, Liz dear” Replied Godfrey wryly. “You’re not making very good progress on Volume Two, I must say.”

          “Anyway, Godfrey, I’ve got a bone to pick with you!” Elizabeth pushed her keyboard away and turned to face her publisher. “You’ve been tampering with my vowels again! It’s jolly well not cricket you know, old bean.”

          Godfrey Pig Littleton focused on Elizabeth’s keyboard, a single peanut held alot as he concentrated, and the keys started to type on their own. Elizabeth swung round and read:

          “…Oonyway Goodfrey, Oo’ve goot a boon to pook wooth yoo! Yoo’ve boon toompering wooth moo vooells agoon! Oot’s jooly wool noot crookit yoo knoo, oold boon….”

          GODFREY!!” shouted Elizabeth. “Stop it! Nobody’s going to understand that Nonsense!”

          #1212

          Franiel, dear lad, are you here?”
          The voice was sweet yet authoritative.

          “Yes, M’am. Is there anything I could do for you?”

          Franiel had been at the service of Madame Chesterhope for a few moons, but he felt like it had been his whole life. He quite enjoyed the peaceful life at her mansion, which was interestingly only seldom visited.

          He was offered food and shelter for his doing some repair work for Madame Chesterhope when she was requesting it. The rest of his time was free, and he used to go wander in the calm neighbourhoor to observe the nature which was so different from anything he had seen before. It was as though the whole countryside was by eerie mimicry perfectly suited to the strange lady with the foreign accent.

          The simple work in communion with this nature had streams of words rise inside him like seeds sprouting after a warm rain. He wasn’t sure he wanted to express them however.
          He had tried a few times to tell Lydia, but her merciless laughter alone would have nipped any of his attempts in the bud.

          One of his greatest satisfaction was to go to the ‘motorbike’ and try to figure out its functioning. Lydia had laughed at his stubbornness to try to make the old piece of junk work —by her own words, she’d rather delete the whole thing out of reality, if it was for her to decide. Luckily enough, it wasn’t for her to decide, and nobody else really cared for his attempts.

          He wasn’t seeing Madame Chesterhope so often, and sometimes she seemed gone for hexades without anyone being able to tell if she was there or not. She simply seemed to have disappeared.
          He had been buggered for a while to figure out who the “Others” she had mentioned on their first encounter were, but apparently, had said chatty Lydia who believed the lady to be completely nuts, she was referring to “TEAFERS” (said in a mock-conspiratorial tone). “Teafers?” Franiel had asked puzzled. “Ahaha, you’re so thick sometimes.” had answered Lydia almost chocking herself into gales of laughter “Thieves! She’s obsessed about thieves! I suspect she’s got some precious stuff she would hate to lose. But believe me, to be as obsessed by thieves as she is, she probably hasn’t got all this stuff willingly given to her…”

          Anyway, with all that being said about Madame Chesterhope, she remained to Franiel as much a mystery as she was the first day he’d met her.

          — “Yes. There is something I’d love you to do, sweetheart. There are people who seem to be coming, and the mansion hasn’t received that many gentlemen for a while, as you can obviously tell. I would love you to assist Lydia in preparing the ball room, and the main hall, do some fixing where it’s needed, that kind of things.”
          — “Yes, sure M…”
          — “I won’t be there the next days, so be sure to make all things necessary before I come back. I count on you.”
          — “Very well M’am.”

          #1198
          AvatarJib
          Participant

            Yann woke up puzzled by his dreams. He’d been walking in the street of a big odd city… an oddicity? He giggled in himself. Yurick was still sleeping and he didn’t want to wake him up.

            In that oddiCity, there were many people but as he could feel in his dream they were not necessarily interacting with each others directly, and strangely it seemed that the different individuals were not necessarily at the same time though he could clearly see them in the same place.

            He was wondering as some people were waving at him… did he know them? As far as he could tell, they weren’t triggering any memory of individuals he had met in his waking life. Some of them seemed somewhat familiar but he couldn’t put a name on their faces. When he was feeling like it he would wave back at them but most of the time he would simply ignore them. No consequences.

            At some point In his dream, he’d ended up in a big park, very calm and soothing. He could see some people smiling and laughing, and the sound of their laughs was not intrusive, it was merely part of the environment like the birds chirping.

            He remembered having seen 3 fountains… when he found the second one, he thought he took a wrong turn and was back at the first one, but a closer look let him notice a few definite differences, and it was more obvious with the third one. Though the designs were similar, the water in each of these fountains was behaving quite differently. In the first one, the water was acting just like he was expecting from water: springing from a pipe, from the bottom up and coming down according to the laws of physics. In the second one, it was as if water was magically condensing from somewhere above the surface of the pond and falling down like the rain. Quite beautiful and very hypnotic… no cloud above. The third one could seem a bit chaotic at first glance, but the movements were quite harmonious too and Yann could fathom some kind of rhythm or interactions going on. He couldn’t clearly see where the water was coming from, and he didn’t have the occasion to examine it as his attention was caught by a voices coming from a gathering of people nearby.

            He found them in a clearing; some people were sitting in front of what appeared to be puzzle pieces. The shapes were quite different from the ones he’d been accustomed to, but it didn’t seem weird at the moment. A man was standing and walking among the others, giving them information and directions on how to manipulate the different pieces.
            As Yann was approaching closer, he noticed that Yurick… no it was Quintin… it seemed he hadn’t called himself Yurick yet… well he was there too and he seemed quite puzzled and engrossed by what he had in front of him. He only had 2 pieces, but it seemed quite difficult to make them fit together.
            As Yann was about to call his friend, the man began to talk to him.

            “Hello. Do you want to try by yourself?..”

            Yann felt something was not as it should have been… it was as if the man was talking to him, and at the same time continuing with his explanations to the other people. And as he was staring at Yann, waiting for an answer, his attention was also focused on his students going on and on with some endless instructions on how it all functioned and what was the proper use of the pieces…

            “You’re new in this area, I never saw you here before, though you seem familiar…”

            That’s when he woke up, puzzled. A bit sad that he’d left the enchantment of the park, but relieved that he wouldn’t have to listen to all the babbling of the man. What was his name again? It had been lost in the huge amount of words, not clearly separated from the names of the tiles or the names of the other students.

            #1186

            Arona was fretting.

            “Now, what is this all about? Can someone explain me? The purple sand is pretty, the green sky too, however it looks just like an insane dream from a deranged mind having abused smoke of robjane leaves.”

            Framing Irtak —who was having a funny pout on his face— the dragons Heckle and Jeckle were too busy considering with an amused attention the new form and energy field that their progenitor had taken.

            No words were spoken to answer Arona’s plea for answers, but answers were starting to come to them in the form of a bundle of energy which would be difficult to translate in a linear manner.

            They started to understand a few things. That for one, N’meôrl the Nirgual was not here by chance, at this place and time. Again, they had travelled far in the past of the history of their dimension, and events of great importance were in motion, that they were given to witness.

            At first, the flow of information they were having was like a stream they thought they had no control of, but as questions were forming they noticed that it was altering the flow which was then encompassing the answers to those questions.

            Like when Jeckle wondered if he and his twin had big birdies counterparts like this one to merge with, and got the following answer “No. For you are quite new essences fragments, and thus do not yet hold focuses in similar extent to your progenitor.”

            Arona was quite pleased by this new mode of getting answers, especially as she could visibly get the answers she was genuinely looking for, not those coming from questions she was only remotely interested in.

            N’meôrl was showing them also, that unlike him, they were not quite physically focused into that environment, and were not noticed by the small surrounding creatures like the little red scrabs crawling in the sand. They were mainly there to observe and draw their own conclusions, as soon some events would occur.

            As they’d finished absorbing the information, they started to notice a feeling of expectation in the air. N’meôrl conveyed to them that they would have to stay quiet in his peripheral awareness for “they” were coming, and he was on a delicate mission.

            :fleuron:

            Footsteps on the beach.
            A man approaching. He looks like Irtak and Arona, as if he had just come into this alien world from the same door they had taken. But he fails to notice them.

            He stays, facing the deep green waters of the ocean brushing the shore, as if expecting someone.

            A strange buzz starts to fill the space. A point of focused light the size of a pinhole appears in front of him, expands quickly with an elastic quality, and pops with a soft sound, revealing an improbably tall figure under a cloak.

            The man greets the new-comer with deference
            “Master Sinadron
            Jarvis, my good friend.”

            They start to walk on the beach at the unspoken invitation of the one with the smooth voice named Sinadron.

            “So, I’ve been told our little matter is going very well.”
            “Yes, very well, Master; I am deeply grateful for your intervention; without your help I’ve been told, my dear would not have been allowed to…”
            “Let’s not talk of such things any longer; it was such a delight to help two sweet young souls so deeply in love”

            Somehow, despite the words of kindness which are slithering with ease, the invisible witness got the uncanny feeling that they are but a deceptive fragment of the truth.

            “Now. Tell me”, the one named Sinadron continues in a mellifluous voice “Why have you called me for?”
            “The settlement you have suggested us to start on this land…”
            “Yes, I am aware, please go to the point instead of labouring things I am well aware of.” The voice had sharpened a bit.
            “I am sorry Master.”
            “Continue”
            “There is a growing dissent that…”
            “And from who that shall come?”
            “Err… I hear Pelorus has spoken to the Zentauras…”
            “Pelorus is but a nuisance.” The voice wasn’t asking for contradiction, though an imperceptible grin was floating on the half-hidden face.
            He continued “But I shall help you, once again
            “Master, you are too generous…”
            “Let me finish. I will provide you with more men and women, willing to start a new life under your command, to help you grow your settlement. There are a few slaves on the Duane, that place from where you come who will do great.”
            “Master…”
            “They will be there in an hexade. Make sure you stand your ground until then, even if that means confronting those nasty Zentauras.”

            And without waiting for the confused thanks, he disappeared, grinning widely.

            #1136
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              The interior of the Fly-boat was a bit like a Tardis, in that it was very much bigger on the inside than it appeared from the outside, and quite a different shape, too. While the exterior of the fly-boat resembled a cross between a duck and a bee, the interior was circular. There was a high point in the centre of the ceiling, and richly embroidered tapestries draping down to the floor in sumptuous folds, looking for all the world like a yurt.

              Yukailli Airlines has a decidedly exotic and oriental air, Dory thought as she perused the in flight magazine, which was written in a charming but indecipherable script resembling the Voynich Papers.

              “This is your captain speaking” a disembodied voice boomed. “Welcome aboard! My name is Ignoratio Elenchi, and I trust that you will have a most enjoyable flight with Yukailli AirBoats. There will be no obligation to fasten your seatbelts and you may smoke all through the flight. Our cabin crew will be preparing Vedic Stew over an open fire in the central area of the craft at 11:11. For your in-flight entertainment, up on the open air flight deck there will be a continuous light show by Aurora Borealis. If you want us to stop the flyboat at any point to take snapshots” continued Ignoratio, “Please don’t hesitate to ask.”

              #1135

              — “Dory?”
              — “What, hon’?” a distracted Dory answered to young Becky
              — “You’d better remove the magnets from the iron, or you’ll ruin another one…”
              — “What are you talking about?!” Dory was perplexed, trying to find her way through the airport to Gate 57-¾, but only to find nothing but benches in between Gate 57 and 58.
              — “Oh, never mind… It’s only a dream and you probably won’t remember it anyway.”

              “There!” the suspicious bag lady of the Heathrow terminal had reappeared briefly just for Dory to spot her entering the restrooms.
              Becky was already rolling the heavy bumper-stickers patched suitcase to follow her without question.

              — “But why are you taking the suitcase to go to the bathroom, Beck’?”
              — “What are you talking about Dory!” Becky was sometimes losing patience. “Can’t you see it’s the entrance for Gate 57-¾?!”
              — “Uh?” A moment of clueless mystery on Dory’s face. “Oh…” Another mini-black hole on her face.

              “Oh. Okay then. Let’s go…”

              If there was something that her exotic life had taught Dory, it was to never question the moment. If the circumstances are here, if the impulse is there, then go for it. Explanations will follow. And in case they don’t, make them up as you roll and rock!

              Becky meanwhile was rather surprised at how people, even her own step-mother, as tuned in ghostly stuff as she was, most of the time failed to see the things for what they really are. And if these big painted letters on the door “GATE 57 ¾” weren’t obvious enough, and people preferred to interpret them as restrooms, then… what else could be done? She sighed.
              Later on, she would learn that it was a common, well documented trait in human consciousness; that people were sometimes psychologically (but not physically) blind to stuff outside of their current focus of attention, or simply blind to things too far off their beliefs; in other terms, it was a matter of energy reconfiguration. As long as it worked…

              “Oh look at that… Yukailli Airlines counter is here! What bloody stupid idea to put a closet door at the entrance…”

              After having made the departure arrangements at the counter, Dory came back to Becky who was looking outside at the planes.

              — “Ain’t them beautiful?”
              — “Yeah, and I suppose you’re seeing planes, aren’t you?”
              — “Err, yes of course, what else, silly… Though now you ask me, they seem a bit weird… foggy or something”.

              In fact, what Becky was seeing wasn’t conventional planes. It was more like “fly-boats”. Some sorts of hybrid ships made to fly with huge wings transparent and shiny like those of flies.

              — “I hope they have crunchy coleslaw for meal, I’m starving” a contented and tired Dory said, when she collapsed into the comfortable seats.

              #1127

              It may have been the sudden change of environment, but Leörmn had great difficulty at staying focused.
              By staying focused, he meant more than just focusing his attention and thoughts. Actually, not much more, as nothing more than his thoughts and his attention were creating of everything —his body included. When he failed to focus as he was now, usually he simply started to disappear from other’s awareness, even though he could be aware that he was still present in their proximity. For most of his activity was happening in the Unseen, and his body was unnecessary for him to manipulate that environment.

              The twin dragons, Heckle and Jeckle were equally disturbed, but to a lesser extent, perhaps because their communicating together made their de-focusing less of a concern.

              The place where they had been guided to was really unusual. Unusual for dragons at least. Even possibly hostile.

              It was like crossing that door had made them turn the physical reality inside-out, and though it was very similar on the surface, the exterior was significantly different.

              Apart from the twins, Leörmn was feeling energies, strong energies focused nearby. They were possibly as strong as dragons’ energies, though their configuration was unfamiliar.
              Where were they? What was this place?

              Leörmn was feeling so powerful undercurrents that it was very disturbing. In his discomfort, he tried to reach for a familiar energy.

              :fleuron:

              In the pool, Salome was feeling the disturbance, as it was already making the cave wobble slightly ever since Leörmn had taken off.

              Georges was having fun shape-shifting his skin to get more dolphin-like slickness, and was trying to bring her into his games, but she was caught by the demanding feeling and couldn’t concentrate on the game.

              She made a foam bubble around herself to lift her up above the surface of the water. “There… I’ve always felt better in the air.” As a matter of fact, be it only the slight gain of altitude, but her thoughts felt clearer already.

              “Oh, my… They are on the Murtuane… Georges, you knew that?!”

              Georges was having too much fun to actually physically answer, but Salome knew he was more than vaguely aware of that.

              She went deeper into herself, trying to see what was the issue… As far as she knew, the Murtuane was very closely tied to the Duane, and actions made into one of the planet had repercussions onto the other. They were close counterparts for each element, and perhaps it was the drawing closer of these which had created an imbalance of some kind.
              “Yes…” she smiled. She was seeing how it could be made easier.

              She sent to Leörmn the clearest picture she could make, then popped her foam bubble, to gracefully dive into the pool, having changed her skin to that of a black and white killer whale.

              :fleuron:

              “Thank the Elder Gods,” Leörmn thought, as he just received the warm familiar energy of Salome from deep inside himself.

              So that was it… He had to find his counterparting Nirgual, and merge with her for the duration of their little excursion here.
              N’meôrl was the name. Salome had met her already a long time ago. She was a brilliant shade of abrigot (some orange smooth fruit).

              It would be quite easy actually. Like the Dragons, Nirguals were summoned by their true name, no matter the distance.
              Blessed be Salome

              Popping back into focus, Leörmn pronounced loudly “N’meôrl, I hereby summon thy!

              When the huge bird appeared all the others who had started to assail the dragon with question were startled.

              Contrary to all appearances, Leörmn was not a dragon of many words, so very few needed to be actually exchanged. The two creatures both knew what had to be done to preserve the balance. And even if they had not known, the pressure on their energy fields was so intense that the merging was just like two magnets drawing closer naturally.

              And One again they were.

              #1113

              When he had heard the others discuss around the campfire the possibility to ask help from the owners of the island, Claude knew he had to focus back on his mission. He had finally managed to escape the clutches of that mad doctor and his witches, not to be sheepishly brought back to them again.

              And that little girl seemed to know better than stay here. Despite her tender age, Claude could tell she was well guided, and didn’t really need his being a bodyguard for her family.
              And Akita, well, he was a soldier, and knew how to take care of himself. Surely, the V girl wouldn’t be as tough as those giant spiders they fought on the parallel island.

              So, without more hesitation, in a move of preternatural swiftness and stealthiness, Claude disappeared again in the forest.
              He knew he had to find his contact on the island. The bee-man.

              :fleuron:

              Mavis! About bloddy time!… Ooooh, look at that… went hunting, have you…
              — and kept that quiet too, little black ‘orse. Ye could do the introducing, can’t you?

              Sha and Glo, rendered a bit irritated by their itching were eying the stranger coming with Mavis with a curiosity drown in envy.

              #1112

              The island had never felt as populated as these past hours. Veranassesee didn’t know really which way to turn, really.

              “Gather your wits, V” she told herself.

              Obviously, it was a bit difficult, she had a terrible time to concentrate. The past few hours felt like they were stretching on forever in time, for no reason at all?

              Take that mmm… wanton memory of the night with Agent Gabriele ; it was still fresh on her mind, and yet, she could hardly tell whether Gabriele was still around in his bungalow, or whether he had left… Feelings of guilt on her part perhaps. Well, it had taken her no less than forty pages… what was she saying? It had taken her no less than forty minutes to come back to him and fall with blissful abandon in his hairy manly arms, and that could as well have been happening two, three months ago for all matter and purpose.

              Perhaps that was the work of evil aliens tampering with her mind and memories. Hardly an excuse, she had been trained for far worse occurrences. She had to list her priorities.
              Gabriele.
              Well, her mission of course. What were you thinking? Now that plan B seemed to have failed miserably, Operation Spider seemed likely to be a total fiasco.
              She had apparently lost the item in a purple blood trail, and there was that fishy Jarvis she had to take care of too.
              But somehow, if she could get that item back, perhaps she could redeem herself. Or else, dreary Fukitupi and Mahiliki would be waiting for her. Hardly a consolation.

              Of course, as if to add to the total disarray of her plans and desire to have things neatly organized, the Higloshama gang (that’s how she liked to call the three atomic divas — Mavis, Sharon and Gloria) had once again disappeared from their pods, probably to gaze at the moon in-between a few cyclones… Well, in any case, they would find a way to get back. If pigeons do, why not them?

              As for the other patients, the door was closed, and they probably were asleep. Oh, and in any case, ugly-faced as they were, they probably couldn’t get far without triggering a trail of fear howling. She had to admit, she was sourer than usual. Anyway… down the list of problems.

              Ah, the doctor of course. Well, he could go to hell, but that would be doing her too big a favour.

              The sound of the plane coming to the island drew her out of her calculations. As she was adjusting her holster to greet the untimely airborne visitors, she sent a brief mental note as a leitmotiv to herself so that she wouldn’t forget “find the bee-man, Jarvis, Jarvis, Jarvis…”

              And she did right.
              She almost lost her composure when she recognized Mahiliki on the plane.

              #1078
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                T’Eggy jumped and quickly shoved the mysterious watermelon rind into her pocket as Finnley’s silouette appeared in the doorway.

                “Lady T’Egg, Sir Coon sends his apologies and wishes to inform you that he has been called unexpectedly away and will no longer be able to join you for dinner this evening” the butler ceremoniously announced. T’Eggy noticed Finnley’s eyes on her bulging pocket, somewhat inappropriately, she thought. Her previous butler, Harring, had been much more discrete. There was something fishy about Finnley. T’Eggy couldn’t put her finger on it — Finnley appeared to be the perfect butler ~ his credentials were impeccable — but there was more to him than met the eye, of that she was sure.

                “Would M’Lady like dinner brought out to the… ahem… Potting Shed?” asked Finnley, raising an eyebrow disdainfully.

                “Don’t be silly” snapped T’Eggy. “When I’m done here with Phlynn the gamekeeper, I’ll come in for dinner.”

                #1072

                This door is influenced by the energy you irradiate.

                You have to trust your energy in order for it to lead you to the most fulfilling place.

                Irtak drew his hand closer to the rippling surface of the door. Its aspect was so changing that it was like he was seeing all the tiniest elements that composed the matter, whatever it was. Hesitating, he asked Leormn.

                — Are you trying one of your tricks on me? It’s like I’m hypnotized.

                He’s not trying to lure you in… said Jeckle.
                The vibration you are currently feeling is the resonance of your energy with the one filtering through that door. said Heckle. I suspect it comes from another realm…
                But it is close to this one, Jeckle added. His muzzle quivered with excitement. I feel a friendly energy filtering from the other side.

                The waves of curiosity emitted by his friends were compelling, and Leormn could feel it. He himself was very interested by what he could feel was some kind of counterpart of himself. He was familiar with the energy but it was somewhat different from his own.

                Our strong desire is maintaining the door open. We can go safely through it and return in no time… he suggested in a soft persuasive tone.

                Arona, who was feeling a bit forgotten, grunted and added a tad dubious :
                — I’m not sure we should do it. We should tell the others… Where are they by the way?

                Apparently, the dragons and the boy were more fascinated by what was leaking out of her drawing. She’d been a bit surprised that one of her creations… if one could call the few brushstrokes a creation… that it could produce such an odd reaction. She couldn’t help but notice that the two words were anagrams.

                Leormn looked at her with a renewed interest.

                I’m feeling you are connected to that other realm, dear Arona. We all are in a way, but it’s like your lineage came from that… gate. Would you dare find out about your origin?

                She looked at him dubiously. His gaze was so intense that one moment…

                — Are you serious? she asked.

                He grinned… Who knows… if you don’t go you may never find out ;)) and I’m sure the others can take care of themselves when we are gone.

                Saying that he jumped on the other side like he was acting on a whim.

                The twins looked at each other and followed him… and Irtak was next…
                What was she to do?
                It was almost as if the door was staring at her. Challenging her… and she didn’t really like to be alone in these dark corridors.
                She jumped in and felt completely stretched out for what seemed a few seconds. She almost lost sense of who she was when an image started to form in her mind.

                It expanded until she was surrounded by a warm sensation of well being and lightness. She was completely safe in this place.
                A sudden woosh and a sensation of cold. She fell on the floor, her members suddenly failing her. The light was completely different and she couldn’t hear anything. Panic began to overwhelm her and she realized she couldn’t emit any sound either.

                As suddenly as it was gone, her sense of hearing reappeared.

                Who was shouting like that?

                AronaArona!

                The directedness in the tone was enough to make her recover her balance. She stopped shouting and began to notice her other senses… nothing particular at first, but she had the weird impression that it was different. Looking around her, she saw that the dragons were sniffing around like puppies and Irtak was following them like one of them.

                — Where are we? she asked Leormn.
                The sound of her voice was lower-pitched than usual, and Leormn started to laugh at her look of dismay.

                Hahaha! I don’t know yet… but we have all the time to discover.

                — Can’t we come back to the cave now? I don’t feel comfortable here… look at the sand, it’s purple… maybe it’s some kind of bacteria or something, maybe it’s contagious…

                He gave her one of those irritating wink. She was about to retort bluntly when she realized there was no way back.
                The door had disappeared.

                #1063
                AvatarJib
                Participant

                  The creaking sound of the door reminded her of a young lampürnok during the mating season on the Duane. Loads of lamprunki (plural for lampürnok) near Mount Elok’ram in her little village.

                  The pock-marked face of Pavel appeared at the door.

                  — Pheeeebe! I am sooo glaad we meet again.

                  He entered and sat on what was supposed to be a bed.

                  — I can’t say I’m glad, Pavel.

                  She snorted.

                  — Last time I saw you, you were running away with one of my possessions. And by the Elder gods! Couldn’t you do something about your monstrous face with all that I taught you? Well, Georges was always better than you could be… I wonder where he is currently…

                  She had said that more to herself than to get any answer from him. He didn’t depart from his smile and his apparently joyous mood.

                  — Well, at least I saved you from a cerrrrtain death. And I know how grateful you arrre inside yourrrrself.

                  That horrid accent of his. It had always made her shudder. But she had to cope with it… for now. She needed to know where she was and why he seemed so sure he would find her there at that very moment. What was he looking for, and how was the Baron involved in all this.

                  — You know that I never liked small-talk. Why don’t you tell me what you want and stop pretending to be what you can’t be? All you can do is work for someone else. You’re too stupid and too coward to take any initiative. You’re too numb to use your imagination…

                  She didn’t like the quavering quality of her voice. She had to be dead tired that she was loosing her temper like that.
                  She cowered back in her chair as he started to move closer, his face suddenly twisted in anger. It was obvious he wouldn’t touch her, he still feared her, she could see it in his eyes… but he also knew that she was quite powerless at the moment. She’d almost drowned in that mass of water, it had changed her in a way she couldn’t fathom yet, and she could feel a small ball of anguish deep inside. She thought for a moment he would beat her. Though he managed to compose his fake joyful expression again.

                  — Listen Pheeeebee, I’m not the impulsive lad you knew. And though I’m not as good as the Dandy I can still impress you, I’m sure of it. But we’re not here to speak about parlor tricks or measure our prowess.

                  She couldn’t help but notice that he had lost his accent.

                  — The Baron… yes I work for him now… another old friend of yours… I wonder how old you are

                  As she was frowning he continued.

                  — Nonetheless, he needs your help in Hawaii.

                  A dim light in her mind. So he was after the skulls too. She had to be more cautious about what she could blurt out, especially in her condition.

                  #2153

                  In reply to: The Story So Far

                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    The Crystal Skulls So Far… :crystal-skull:

                    The crystal skulls first appeared in the Far West saga, where it’s hinted that around the 1850s, some crystal skulls are found/smuggled by Aldous McGaughran. Their origin is not told.

                    It seems that (at least) one of his crystal skulls are passed down to Claudio in Spain through his grand-father’s acquaintance of Cillian Mc Gaughran (one of Wrick’s ancestors) — ref.
                    That skull is auctioned and a lady in salmon (the fake viscountess who is in reality an agent of the Mad Baron) gets it. This skull finishes its trip in the Baron’s lair (at around our time ~2007)… The Baron’s mansion will become (in the 2030s?) the home of the twins, and Wrick family.

                    Some of the crystal skulls are also found in the past (1950s?) around the mysterious figure of Mrs Chesterhope who is already hunting for them in (Brunei?) sultanate, using Georges to do so.
                    Later (around 2008) she locates one on the island of Tikfijikoo, and she sends a gang of magpies to find them, but their efforts are thwarted and she needs to get there in person (and motorcycle).

                    The Confregation is an organization which seems to know some things about them and are the origin of the one lent to the Dr Bronkelhampton on Tikfijikoo (retrieved from Crusaders a long time ago).

                    Beattie and Leonora Fletcher, a couple of batty Brit ladies seems to have found some of them too , and have a network of their own…

                    Later (2030s?), near the Indian Ocean, one is found by Gayesh’s family too

                    #1032
                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      Finnley looked appraisingly at her reflection in the mirroor of the staff toiloots. She turned her head, surveying herself from different angles. Sure, her hair was cut very short, but she had always thought it looked quite fetching and stylish, and so easy to care for.

                      She turned over the empty cleaning bucket so she could stand on it to get a better view of her body in the mirroor. Perhaps the baggy blue cleaning dungaroos she wore were not the most flattering on her slim figure, yet incredibly practical nonetheless, with 6 large pockets. She had bought several pairs on special, so she could alternate them.

                      That Elizabeth Tattler was clearly just one of the mindblown ones. Mad as Almad.

                      And getting worse by the day!

                      Perhaps it was just THAT time of the moonth, but for some reason Elizabeth’s insistence on referring to her as a male had really hurt Finnley today. Ever since she had attempted to help Elizabeth with the Island story by modifying the love scene , just slightly, Elizabeth had been intent on undermining Finnley’s sexooality. Not only that, she appeared to be fabricating Finnley’s involvement with the noovel she was writing. Just yesterday she had overheard Elizabeth telling her publisher, Bronkel, that Finnley was telepoothically implanting evil suggestions in her head.

                      Finnley shook her head again, this time in bewilderment. For Foocks sake, someone should do something about that woman, before it is too late!

                      Studying herself in the mirroor again she undid the top 3 buttons of the shirt she was wearing under her dungaroos and made a mental note to buy a poosh-up bra after work today. She mussed her hair up in what she hoped was a sexy look and made her way to clean the computer gooks office.

                      #1027

                      She was the first to notice.

                      First there was a loud bang, that she perceived as a shock wave rippling all around.

                      Then, she felt a strange flabby thing with bat arms fall into the ocean, while the other energy was coming their ways. “Wow,” she couldn’t help but think; “they’re having unusual nightly activities around for such a small isolated island.”

                      The dog resting by the fire got alerted then, and tried to wake up the others. But apparently, they seemed oblivious to it.

                      Then, something stranger happened. The small white rabbit started to talk, as if it had been aware all along.
                      “It’ll take a while for him to see you again Kay, just don’t yap like a silly dog… Besides, you’ll disturb our guests”
                      “Guests?” the dog answered back.

                      The moment after, the rabbit had disappeared from the girl’s lap, and was standing between her and the dog.
                      “Welcome, Balbina”, he told her.

                      “How do you know my name?” she was aghast, unable to say if it was for the talking rabbit, or for the fact it knew her name.
                      Unperturbed, it continued “It’s a busy night. There are lots of things happening, and we hope you’ll stick around. It may be helpful for our friends here.”
                      “Er… why not… I mean, yes, sure. And you are?”
                      Yuki, at your service. I’m not really a rabbit of course, but that form is convenient”
                      “And cute too…” she said tentatively
                      “Thank you”

                      Balbina had never thought a rabbit could blush, but she would have bet it was the closest thing to a blushing rabbit she had just witnessed.

                      “Sorry to interrupt you,” Kay said, but who are the other guests?

                      a shrilling voice came as an answer OOOOooohh a campfire! How cuty pooh! Wait till Sha and Glo see that, we could have some roasted marshmallows and pork chops! I’m feeling soooo hungry…”

                      “Great… So much for our little secret expedition,” Claude sighed as he woke up.

                      #1015
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Elizabeth was beginning to realize that there WAS no ‘end of the road’, no grand finale, no finish line. Whenever her characters appeared to be nearing the proposed grand point of the story, she found herself following another thread in the impossibly huge tapestry. Maybe she didn’t want it to end, or perhaps it was that there was no ‘point’, no end point to aim for, that it was all just a process, a continual weaving of marvelously coloured threads. Some threads were gaily coloured silks, some were rough and coarse, some were woolly and comforting, and others were plain and functional. There were threads of the most unusual and unexpected fibres, other worldly threads tying the myriad dimensions and chapters together somehow. It really was the most fabulously intricate and absorbing construction.

                        #985

                        The door of the garage opened with a creaking sound, and Madame Chesterhope sped up into the gritty alley.
                        In that dimension where she had hidden her command base, people were a bit sloppy about roads and tarmac, so she had designed a little modification on her machines to be able to levitate in some of the less practical areas; but she had to admit,… she loved the vibrations and bumps that the motorbike created with the friction of the ground surface.
                        She started to giggle, all enthusiastic about the speed and the wind in her hair, that she ignored the road sign indicating that the road was flooded some miles ahead. The rain had been pouring cabbages all past hexades, so much so that her leather suit was in all honesty the best thing she could have worn, not to mention the fact of course, that it was making her totally sexy.
                        Two peasants were coming her way, looking at her with wild eyes like they had just seen something otherworldly. Ahahah she laughed, the fools would soon have forgotten everything about it (another handy and sly magical modification she nodded to herself). Looking in her rear mirror, she could still see them wiggle their hands in a frenzy… What the fl…!

                        :fleuron:

                        On the road, the two peasants wondered what in the name of Shaint Lejus was that rider… But worse, it was heading straight to the pool that the swollen river had made recently, outpouring on fields and little sniggly and thorny paths, like this one. Making desperate signs to be seen and warn it, they watched in horror the black podgy thing with flabby flapping schpurniatz arms sink straight to the bottom of the pool.

                        :fleuron:

                        The landing was a bit bumpy, but she found her balance quickly. Those transdimensional puddles were a bit rough to get accustomed to, but once you knew how to manipulate it, you couldn’t forget it.
                        Now, all she needed to got to the location she was heading to was to hop through a few more transdimensional puddles.
                        Actually, all sorts of puddles could do the job, water puddles, even oil puddles… or run-over poodle puddles for that matter. She preferred water ones, for the quality of water was very fluid, and allowed for easier defocusing. Lately she had tried transdimensional exhaust fumes clouddles, but that was a bit disorienting more than helping.
                        As far as she could tell, this first one had been projecting her to a dimension in between Earth and the Duane. Incorporating vibrational qualities of the two, with a little more rigidity though. The machine needed a little time to stabilize and get prepared for the next transdimensional jump.
                        As far as she could tell, she was in a place that was not unlike her birthplace, in the countryside of England. There were occasionally some giveaways that she still wasn’t quite there yet, like an erratic flying schpurniatz, but she was close now.
                        A few meters in front of her, she could see a lovely puddle that could do for the next jump. A bit small for her… well, motorbike, what were you thinking… but that would probably do it. She took another breath, then pushed the TDPP (Trans-Dimensional Puddle Propeller) button.

                        :fleuron:

                        Flof-flof-flof-flof…
                        Bugger, bugger…. What the bloody heck!

                        Straw was flying all over her hair, and obfuscating her vision… Darn last puddle had to much mud in it, and her concentration went off for a split second, heading her towards a field of barley.
                        Turning round and round for a moment in complete disorientation, she finally pushed the levitation button to take a little altitude.
                        Oh, now,… at least she could tell she was in England, because she knew that place.
                        How perfect! She could now just move into the dimension to the Pacific island. The GPS included in the modern expensive motorbike had been bipping as soon as it had found again the satellites, and it was now pointing the direction.
                        Giggling again, she pushed a new button and disappeared into the sky in a supersonic puff of smoke.

                        :fleuron:

                        a few days later, Chestershire, UK

                        AFP - 2008-07-21 - An new amazing design has been reported by eye-witnesses
                        on a crop of barley of a local farmer along with reports of strange booming sounds
                        and orbs of light. A sight to behold, the delicate intricacy of these interwoven
                        patterns is believed by many to be the work of the Crop-circle Makers, some
                        alien intelligence desiring to communicate with us. The theme of this crop-circle
                        is thought to be a variation on planet Venus cycles, and would be highlighting
                        the number of cycles lefts until the notorious end-date of Mayan calendar,
                        Dec. 21st 2012. Scientists have brushed off the allegations of elderly pranksters,
                        as this one seemed to have required levels of astronomical knowledge far beyond
                        human intelligence.
                        #977
                        ÉricÉric
                        Keymaster

                          Well, shall we scratch all the glukenitches droppings first?, asked Leormn in winking dismay. You know, before we put the new wallpaper?

                          A few seconds passed in silence. Naaah, just kidding. Have some paint please.

                          And * pof * a few buckets of shiny flower-scented paintings pots appeared in front of Arona, with some nice brushes dipped in them.

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