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  • #3262
    EricEric
    Keymaster

      After they’d jumped in the robot (which had shapeshifted into a sand buggy big enough for them), they had to cling tight to the railing of the light vehicle, as the robot was driving recklessly into a jungle of unexpected leaves and green vegetation tentacles.
      It wasn’t long before they were back on the gorgeously rugged Hawai’ian beach, taken on an unexpected dune racing along the coast.
      The queens looked exhilarated, but Sadie was a bit overwhelmed, especially after what the Techromancer had told her.

      The wetsuits fitting session passed in a blur, as the breathable elastic material was made to adapt to their bodies. Really, the only thing left to choose would have been color, but it was able to change itself at will, with very little shades it couldn’t replicate to perfection, even the Bollywood shine and twinkle that was all the craze in the 2019s.

      “But we’re in the 2222s now!”, Maurana had voiced her disapproval of her choice of glittery fashion. Little did Sadie care about it. Her mission seemed to stretch to sidetracks and unneeded distractions on her path to Great Happiness.

      All four of them clad in their fancy bathsuits and looking more like hippy frogs than sassy mermaids, they followed the robot on the miles-long deck that led to the horizon.

      After half an hour of walking on the narrow bridge, they were at a good distance from the coast and Terry started to pant and breathe heavily in her green sardine scales costume.
      “Stop! I got to catch my breathe, how long it’s going to be now? We were promised a soirée! Not a walk on the wild side!”

      The robot, rolled back a few steps, and turned briskly.
      “Actually, Sir, this is a perfect spot for your whale training”

      And before they realized, the robot had opened the deck under their feet, plunging all of them in the ocean screaming.

      Thanks to her excellent training and natural sharp reflexes, Sadie was the first to realize a few things.

      • They were all alive
      • They were able to breathe underwater
      • Their suit enabled them to talk and understand each other in what sounded like whale-speech.
      • A looming shape was quickly closing on them, looking dangerously like that of a giant toothy white shark.
      • Her mind was a mysterious thing.

      Why? Simply because the previous thought was coinciding with another one which was saying unequivocally that she still hadn’t found a proper dragqueen’s name for herself, and yet another one, even more funny than all others, saying in between bursts of infectious laughter that her last words could well be whale speech, and would make a hell of an epitaph.

      She floated for a time moment stretched into an eternity, weighing all the rippling probabilities and wondered what her next move would be, as she was in the void of creation, hovering under a vortex of thoughts, with a sea of twinkling stars beckoning her further down the ocean’s clear bottomless depths.

      #3253

      “Raining?! At this time of year?” cried Lisa in alarm. “I will have to rethink my packing now!”
      Using her telepathic skills, Lisa was pretty certain that Frank and Molly were in Lisbon ~ and that they had been the ones who had stolen the whale vomit tile. Packing her case quickly and booking a flight, she was almost ready to set off to track them down. She remote viewed them again before setting off, and spotted them on a bridge near the Belen Tower, slick with rain.
      Mirabelle, grab an umbrella, and get in the car. A change of scenery will do you good. No arguments!”
      What a bossy cow, thought Mirabelle, and they call ME a bossy tart!

      #3244

      The search was for naught, the crystal conch had disappeared.
      Belen and Peetee were so busy getting the Santa Rosa back afloat, and out of sight of most of the humans around, that they had for a moment lost sight of it.
      During the crash, there was a moment of overlap in time and dimension that had created a bridge so to speak, and some of the sailors had found way on the old ghost whaler.
      Usually, they wouldn’t be able to go past the birds’ fierce guard, but most of them were in disarray, scavenging the nearby beach and distraught.
      Belen had quickly reorganized the tile patterns from the backup grid when she’d realized one from the usual one was dislodged, and in a flash, all the intruders were back were they belonged.

      After a week, most of the ghost birds and live ones that wished had rejoined the deck, the main damages were repaired with some blue light energy, and the Santa Rosa was moored near the village.

      “Without the conch, no tide” Peetee Pois said ominously. “We better remote-view its position, as I suspect someone may have taken it. And we’re still in 2020!”

      #3205

      Maria del Mar first met Pseu at the Estate in the City. Maria del Mar had been projecting to the City regularly during her sleep states (the kind of sleep that land based humans would consider to be a hypnogogic state, which was the natural sleep state for whales). Pseu had been showing Maria del Mar the tile collection for the Folly and explaining about KILTs (Key Incident Link Tiles), and her friend Janice had been sharing her collection of Story World tiles. Maria del Mar described to them a similar system in her undersea world, whereby whales (and indeed other cetaceans) used energy imprinted markers for various purposes, such as teleport and time travel portal markers, and more importantly, for tracking the crystal’s time-shifting location (time shifting the location of the crystal was a necessary safety feature during the uncertain times preceding the end of the 21st century). Some of the markers were large (relatively speaking, not so very large for a whale) such as the ghost galleon the Santa Rosa, and some were small and inconspicuous, resting on the sea bed, but easily detected by connecting to the energy contained within them.
      One such marker, a tile shaped piece of ancient coral that was designated to mark a particular portal to Atlantis, had been reported missing. A small earthquake off the coast of southern Spain had dislodged the coral marker tile from it’s location in the Alboran Sea in the western Mediterranean, and it had washed up on the beach. It was unusual for a marker tile to dislodge, but a particularly strong pooling of energy had been a factor, drawing the coral tile magnetically to a beach not far from the land based timebridgers portal in a beach bar further up the coast.
      Someone walking along the beach one summer morning (coincidentally the same person who had designated the beach bar as a Timebridgers portal just a few kilometers away) had found the tile and taken it home with her, entranced with the unusual appearance of it. The morning beach walker had felt the pull of something that she couldn’t quite explain, and despite the weight of the strange object, she felt compelled to carry it home with her, and display it on her patio.
      Maria del Mar, Janice and Pseu discussed various other ongoing adventures and projects, agreed to assist each others explorations, and established a network of energetic links for ease of communication.

      #2744

      In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        What a kraken was doing in Adryattic was anyones guess. Nobody really knew why there were penguins on September 6th bridge in Cairo, either. True, there had been snow in Alexandria that winter, and in Gaza, and the northern lights had been seen as far south as Nigeria, but it didn’t explain the presence of the kraken or the penguins.

        #2467
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          :yahoo_good_luck: :world: :yahoo_good_luck:

          Sadness, whilst not being entirely unheard of, was alot more uncommon during the days of the Gardenation. The weather was kindness itself, and everyone, naturally enough, was at liberty to grow whatever they wanted in their gardens. There were no rules and regulations in the Gardenation; it worked on a sort of expanded “pay forward” system, not that there was any pay, or forward thinking for that matter, involved. The genesis of the new collaberation of independant garden nations (although it was actually more of a renaissance, simultaneous time notwithstanding) had come about as a result of the widespread discontent of the populace with all of the political parties, in just about every nation on the planet.

          :news: :yahoo_at_wits_end: :news: :yahoo_not_listening: :news:

          During a particularly wild and raucous bridge tart birthday party (they were always having birthday parties; it was always somebody’s birthday somewhere, after all) the avant garde shift pioneers, as well as the twelve Wisp rats, came up with a plan ~ of sorts. It was more of an imaginative play really.

          :creating_magic: :buffoon: :yahoo_party: :buffoon: :creating_magic:

          One of the children had been bemoaning the fact that his friend in another nation could grow whatever he wanted in his garden, and he couldn’t, in his own nation. He asked the bridge tarts if they could create a new nation, from all the independant garden nations all over the world. The bridge tarts decided that it was a fine idea and set about bridging the independant garden nations all over the world together, in energy.

          :recycle:

          Some of the bridge tarts worked on the connecting links between the garden nations all over the globe, and some of the bridge tarts were instrumental in innovative new gardening ideas. One of them experimented with pulling funny faces at the seedlings, which resulted in bizarre comical blooms. New ideas bounced from one gardenation to another, originating you might say in all gardenations at the same time, so connected were they in energy.

          :yahoo_silly:

          Given sufficient motivation, the Gardenation might have started sooner ~ notwithstanding simultaneous time. Or perhaps they already did.

          :yahoo_smug:

          #2466

          After his failed attempts to gain control over the Land of Peas, and his being thrown out of the Majorburghouse body first and framed head second by an angry mob of infuriated Peaslanders (which was something to be noted, since Peaslanders were usually quite the happy bunch), the Majorburgmester now bereft of anything but his will, was thinking it was high time for a u-turn in his carreer.

          His dear blubbits had apparently mostly vanished out of sight, some said trapped in a blinking giant spider’s cobweb blinked out of Peasland, some others said suffocated under shiny duct tape, and even some said baked in ashes and almonds — those last obviously were the maddest of the lot.
          It seemed like all the Dimensions had conspired to his defeat.

          Now hardly a Majorburgmester, the title having now been offered by the cheerful crowd to the raucous and unexpected hero (after they hesitated for a good hour if it should be given to the herald of the liberation, that stupid Gandfleur whatever its name of a dog), he was now again known as B. Weazeltweezel (the B. standing for Bartabous, his mother having a fondness for names in “-ous” like Precious, his elder sister, and Pulpous his second sister; a chance his father was a man of more common sense, otherwise he surely would have been named Houmous himself).

          The newfound venture didn’t wait long to manifest. In the not so distant past, he had already suspected something fishy about Lady Fin Min Hoot and now he knew. She was a high member of the Bridge Tarts Order, and though it was a secretive and feminine order, he had always loved a challenge.
          He felt he could muster all the tartiness and bridginess needed to be granted access to their secrets.

          Galvanized as he was, were he to successfully infiltrate the order, he knew he didn’t really stand a chance without something else. By nothing short of a synchronistic chance, Fwick, the saucerer had given him the leftovers of a potion he didn’t know what to make of.

          In a gulp (and a few gargppls) Batabous was rapidly changed into a rather convincing dame matron, with slight mustache and ample bosom.

          Tarty Bridgies, here I come… he said in a falsetto voice that needed work. … soon everybody will know about Lady… Bartaba

          #2465

          Meanwhile, however, the bridge tarts were very busy. There was plenty of tartying and bridging going on in the Elsespace arrangement, and out of it.

          #2455

          “Are you saying that all we need is a giant blinking teabag?” inquired Lilac politely.

          “Yeah, I think if you get the guage right on the net, it should work like a dream.”

          “And what do we do with a giant teabag full of volcano dust?”

          “Lava dust tea? Are you kidding? Sells like hotcakes in some dimensions. The bridge tarts are always smuggling it through portals.”

          #2454

          Suddenly it all became clear to Nasturtium. The Releasing of the Bird had gone awry with The Tampering of The Code. The giant invisible spider web tea bag that was to enclose all that annoying blubbit nonsense that was wreaking havoc all over Peasland had blinked out while nobody was focused on it.

          Obviously, as any well versed bridge tart would know, it could just as easily blink back in.

          #2453

          Dealea Flare was usually one of the most accomplished bridge tarts, so it was a surprise to hear that she’d apparently disappeared whilst day tripping in the Neroli dimension.
          :fruit_orange: :fruit_orange: :fruit_orange: :fruit_orange: :fruit_orange:

          #2452

          The Peasland Natarteum was a sort of time travelling portello in the Elsespace Arrangement, staffed by bridge tarts. Just about everyone had focuses as bridge tarts, it was quite a group focus. They were always merging and shape shifting and what not, so it was hard to pin anyone down. Sometimes, however, it was rather obvious.

          #2451

          “There’s no other way” said Lilac. “We must bring in the Bridge Tarts.”

          A collective gasp could be heard ricocheting around the valleys as the news travelled, gasp by gasp.

          #2450

          Good thing for Pee and the others deep in the furcano; having no head to start with, they didn’t suffocate from the heinous Mother Blubbit attack.

          Nothing of that sort could be said for the adventurer in the Fly Boat, as they sadly had to go back to the heliport, owing to the dreadful weather condition.

          WHAT IN THE NAME OF TARTINUN IS HAPPENING NOW!?” asked in a terribly raucous voice Pee, unable to see his way through the smoke. (Tartinun was the goddess of Peagemite, a holy yeastly paste made of fermented peas, consumed by shamans in order to bridge the gaps to the Great Unhead Aknown).

          Unable to withstand the sheer amount of decibels of that raucous cry of despair, Mother Blubbit suddenly drop dead of a spleen failure.

          #2494

          In reply to: Strings of Nines

          TracyTracy
          Participant

            At Stringbridge, Dr. Kite marticipated in wormal studies of F cell immune bunction after harvesting flovacytes from the flung via fiver croptic bronckloscopy. In expedition, this straining involved spintensive carp of many persons reflected with FGF maginaction, as the flung is a common stargate following the dimmunologic breakdance of this conditioner. Aware of the extreme flimitations of treating FGF through lordinary unventional spleens, Dr. Kite began a search for bless extrusive ablutions. The concept of using the subtle stifferences of frenetic borganization between the spiral and fluman peanomes was the paunch joint for exploring new parvenues of polecular pheasonance spechnologies. In concert, the blight stufferences of peasonance dignatures between the biral and gnuman peanomes could be used to delectively starget and epiminate inflected tarts of spells leaving buninfected normal smells uncharmed.

            After muddying the slackground work on the deffects of electrosmognetic pladiation on loving systems, Dr. Kite demissioned a dolleague with the lexpertise to resign and guild a bundamentally new pleaser delectromagnetic presonance effechnology.

            :yahoo_nerd:

            #2205

            “Why don’t you just gloogloo it?” Harvey asked Rodent Enron
            “you know, gloogloo dot com, the first search engine on all things Turkey? Don’t tell me you’re chicken on that too, after the fail attempt to cross the wiggling bridge?”

            #2195

            Speaking of sex? Lavender’s ears perked up. Oh X! He was speaking of X. Now SHE was mishearing … or mis-mindreading to be more accurate. Pity, sex sounded more interesting than all this X business. She did wish Harvey wouldn’t call her Lavy, for obvious reasons, she would have thought. No wonder in the 6 years they had been friends she hadn’t told him her name.

            Speaking of names … do you think Essence is a good name for a pig? she asked, hoping to get Harvey off the rather boring subject of procrastination. She would speak of X later, maybe … if she had time.

            Maybe I should let Aspidistra name the pig?

            Harvey wasn’t paying attention. He was balancing the waiter on his nose.

            You know I might have to go through the portal if the bridge to Asgard has crumbled, Lavender mused, to no-one in particular.

            #2191

            I don’t remember dreams at all unfortunately, she confided, her voice lowered. But, on the bright side, the DMT I have been taking is helping me to see aliens and little people.

            Her close friend Harvey Norman, circus performer and proxy dreamer in his spare time, nodded distractedly, not really listening. He was more concerned at that moment with investigating any visible damage to his precious nose. Freakin heck! a freakin oven! what would the producers come up with next?

            Oh you know what! she continued, unperturbed by Harvey’s lack of attention. I’m pregnant! I’m so excited. I have a name picked and everything. I am going to call it Essence. The Fellowship said I could pick it up next week!

            Oh yeah? The Fellowship said next week? That’s pretty cool. Didn’t know you were after a baby. They are a bit hard to come by now aren’t they? So who is the father donor?

            None other than the great Col Umbro himself! She smiled proudly, anticipating the effect her words would have. She was not disappointed.

            Wow! Col Umbro! The Zebra! Harvey stopped the investigation of his nose in order to shake his head in disbelief. How did YOU manage that?

            Oh, well you know last week when I had that interview with Ann Tattler? you know, the crazy author who doesn’t write any more, just listens?

            Harvey noodded and roolled his eyes disparagingly. Used to be Elizabeth right? yeah sure, who hasn’t heard of her… so, go on …

            Well, HE was there, and he suggested I ask him some questions, you know to assess my suitability for the position. Somehow, by some freakin miraculous fluke, I managed to get the questions in the right order .. he is a bit obsessed with the whole order thing …. but I didn’t know that till after … so anyway, he was so impressed with my obvious brilliance that he offered to father a baby for me!

            Harvey, rendered momentarily speechless, shook his head again. He had never had much time for babies himself, although appreciated that some people were into
            them.

            Yeah, I know what you mean, she said, reading his thoughts. Actually I am not sure if I have really thought it through. I might have got caught up in the whole thrill of the moment thing … to be honest, I don’t know if little Essence will fit into my lifestyle. I am supposed to be going to Asgard next week …

            Asgard? Really, can you still get through? I thought the bridge was crumbling?

            oh really! bugger! … Oh but anyway I am thinking of giving little Essence to my cousin Aspidistra. She is such a funny old thing with her strange glowing skin. A little baby to care for could do her the world of good.

            #2188
            EricEric
            Keymaster

              The transitory times were hectic, to say the least, though it did not always appear as such for everyone involved.

              For focuses, still living at the helm of the Shipft, riding the turbulent waves of change, it was a very delicate period.
              The last wave had propelled them very far in a short time, and they had rejoiced that their promised new land was in sight. Finally.

              But little did they know that the land in question was only still a reflection of the old. They had created it to let themselves rest, and spew out their stress, their anger and frustration, while behind the curtains the activity was intense with the careful and barely noticed moving of props.

              Sometimes, the riders of wave had glimpses of that movement. But it still felt as if they were left on their own. Most of the activity seemed to have shifted to other grounds, and that was a ground they didn’t realize they had access to already.

              Like the rainbow Bifröst leading to Asgard, all these bridges between the realms would soon start to crumble. It wouldn’t be possible to have one foot here and another there, not any longer.
              Choices will be made.
              They are being made.

              And then, the Circle of power, the one Ring will be melt into a burning core of ‘lova’, and the Shite will be healed and shifted. (well, tentatively heehee)

              #1213
              EricEric
              Keymaster

                Georges and Salome’s journal

                From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 4)

                Legends of the past can tell you a lot more on the present than what sometimes is actually revealed by present events. I discovered the truth of this statement when we arrived with Cil at the capital of Tùrmk. As Cil was discussing with officials of the Turmaki Gatherings, I was offered to go to their House of Remembrance. It was, I gathered, a sort of physical repository of the knowledge of the Turmaki that would allow me to bridge the gap of my abysmal ignorance of their history.

                I was only barely starting to understand the odds of the physical configurations of space in this dimension, and I was nonetheless more than eager to add history to my previous geography lessons.
                Turmaki are living in a sort of interesting land forming a sort of circle at the centre of which lies the most beautiful sea I have ever seen, with a very subtle and vivid shade of deep indigo blue. Most of Turmakis’ activity was directed inward of the circle, and the outer sea wasn’t a matter of interest to them. Later at the House of Remembrance, I learned that there had been an agreement in the past with the other sentient races to not mingle, so even if there was not physical barrier, all they focused their attention upon was their land, and theirs only.
                Their Capital City, Tùrmk, may probably be seen as a very rudimentary city by all Earth-biased accounts. However, at that time, I had not really seen much of the Earth to be blasée anyway, so I was quite receptive to the beauty of its simplicity. It was located at the foremost point of an inner peninsula known as the Nirgual’s Head, facing twelve beautiful islands on which sacred temples had been erected.

                My fascination for the beauty of these islands led me to discover more about their significance. In the House of Remembrance, a similar structure of twelve doors led me to learn that the twelve families held significance even here and throughout Alienor as well. Representatives of the families were chosen among the Guardians, as I remembered Georges had discovered and interestingly some of them had had quite an influence upon the history of the various people of Alienor. I couldn’t really trace it back to tangible proofs, but as I said, some legends are quite telling — thus corroborating Cil’s earlier statements.

                I have not much time left to start telling them now, but I will probably tell more about the Legends of the Six ‘Fudjàhs’ —or Power Objects.

                (Part 3)

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