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  • #610
    EricEric
    Keymaster

      All he remembered was the name “Akita”… He was not sure that it was his name, perhaps it was not, but he had taken it as his own.
      He’d been stranded on that island for so long he barely remembered whether he’d had a past before. In the beginning, he had taken an inventory of the passing time, but soon had discovered that days were irregularly long, and nights would sometimes last for more than one day, so that it was all pointless…
      The toughest part had been to live in good intelligence —he couldn’t really say harmony— with the predatory hairy nest of the daughters of Narani. But at least he’d made clear that he was able to defend himself and retaliate if needed…

      — Thanks to me, grunted a big dog half-focused, his head on his lap.
      — Yeah, mostly thanks to you, Kay

      Kay had appeared a few days after Akita discovered himself on that strange land. He was no common dog… In fact, Akita was wondering that it may only exist in his mind. Kay had been approaching him, more than he had tamed it, and soon Akita found out that he was no dog at all.
      He was, as Kay had said, an inugami or dog spirit, able to shape-shift, and willing to bond with Akita. He’s said Akita his previous owner had died, and that he would have to die with him unless being adopted by another…
      Akita had been reluctant at first, finding that there was something unclear, but he had agreed anyway… Better be with a faithful and powerful dog-spirit than die in the webs of the giant spiders…
      All he had to do was to name it. And so he named it Kay.
      Kay couldn’t be seen by most of the creatures in the forest, though the most sensitive could feel his presence. However, he could decide to take a more corporeal form, but that exhausted both Akira and Kay, and was rarely done. So most of the times, he was roaming the island in spirit form, which didn’t mean that he was powerless, far from it.

      — I can sense something’s coming, growled Kay who took the shape of a big two-legged werewolf…

      #587
      EricEric
      Keymaster

        Georges and Salome’s journal

        From Salome’s account of their first journey to the Alienor star system

        I had more insights about the Murtuane and its biosphere. The race of green-skinned people seem to foster some deeply religious feelings. Not religious as in our age old beliefs on Earth, nothing of that sort. It’s more “religious” in the sense of caring for life, and the sacredness of it.
        It seems they are so attuned to their feelings that they can feel in each other’s waves of moods, so that it becomes very difficult for them to entertain such violence that we have been enacting for so long on Earth.
        It is like they form some kind of invisible bond, and can feel each other through the belonging of some kind of unseen social memory complex. I think they call each others Children of Turmak, or somewhat close.

        There are other forms of lives present here, many underwater, and I can feel some ties between the Nirguals (those huge eagle-like winged beings) and what we, on Earth, remember as “dragons”. It is as though they are different forms of the same energetic blueprints, or species… In evolutionary terms, it would be tantamount to say that they share a common ancestor, but I know it is none of that either.
        The Nirguals (let us call them like that for the time being) are indigenous to this planetoid of Murtuane, but they somewhat seem to have seeded some of them on the Duane, the dual or sister planet — though this is my loose interpretation… But even though it reminds me of a cuckoo being forgetful of its eggs in another nest, this strikes me as an evidence of some kind of awareness of each other, by each of the planets sentients. And also of an evidence of a kind of travel route between the two, though discontinuous if not vagarious, and probably uni-directional as per now, as nothing tends to corroborate a continuous interaction.

        #89
        EricEric
        Keymaster

          I’m starting a new discussion if you find some interesting message in the Word Cloud of our energy deposits.
          Or poems, or nonsense…

          Feel free to indulge :p

          From wikipedia on scrying : Scrying or crystal gazing is the occult practice of using a medium, most commonly a reflective surface or translucent body, to aid perceived psychic abilities such as clairvoyance. The media often used to “see” are water, polished precious stones, crystal balls, or mirrors.

          #1849
          AvatarJib
          Participant

            Asaris — The blue men’s world — by Írtak

            The race of the blue men was originating from a far off star system they called Asaris in a dimension quite different from the ones of Quintin and of Malvina.
            Their connection with us is quite interesting in that they have managed to project aspects of themselves in other dimensions and give them shapes. One blue man, in a manner of speaking, may be the “result” of a common projection by several inhabitants of Asaris, merged aspects and common intent. They can be associated with pop-ins in a way, or with energy exchange, but the action is different.

            While projecting, they are aware of their own focus in Asaris and of the other focuses they are projecting in other dimensions. Some of them can do that in many dimensions… I’ve not yet been able to really understand the process and how they can maintain the focuses… but that is filtered through my current understanding of the process. While different focuses of essences are “independent”, the projections of the blue men are quite connected to their originating point in Asaris.

            Andrimiñ is one of them. One of the participating essence is connected to Blöhmul who also have focuses in the other dimensions. In him I feel also the essence Tomkin.

            #370
            EricEric
            Keymaster

              — The legend of Mævel — (Part III)

              When the blue fox had disappeared, deep into the woods, Mævel was left wondering if all of that had only been a dream. Perhaps it was just a dream, and something that would make her parents raise their shoulders in dismay.
              Especially since she had lost their gift carelessly they would say, the little pearl white ribbon…

              She picked up the clothes that were left hanging to dry up in the wind, and came back to the little house.

              Of course, her father Jorg noticed that she was not wearing the ribbon, but he was not much of a question asker, and things were or were not, and analyzing them was unnecessary for him. But of course, Ilga noticed it too, and she felt sad for poor Jorg who had endured so many sacrifices to buy the little ribbon that Mævel was no longer wearing. She wanted an explanation! Was it no longer to Mævel’s tastes, had Mævel lost it?

              So Mævel, who could not lie to anybody, told them her encounter with Blohmrik, the cursed god in the woods, in the shape of a wounded blue fox… and at each of her words, was seeing their faces more and more disconcerted.
              Their poor girl, who was already so different, had completely lost it,… ribbon and all that was left of common sense in her.

              So they locked her up in the bedroom, that she was now occupying alone, as all of her brothers and sisters had left. Just to save her from herself, and see if that would help her gain some more solid sense of reality.

              Mævel understood her parents, but she was deeply contrite that they could not understand what she had lived. Mævel was still doubting the reality of her meeting the blue fox, so she asked for some sign from the Gods before going to sleep, to see clearly.

              That night, Mævel dreamt of a dark-haired young man with a white diadem1 around his head, dressed in a cerulean blue tunic and wearing a sword. He was enshrouded in a warm light and as she took the hand he was extending, they were carried away by a springing scented wind into a meadow of multicoloured flowers, some of which she had not even known could exist. She had felt at home.
              When she woke up, in the middle of the night, Mævel was transfixed by the beautiful soothing dream. She could not remember much more, but he had told her something. That there was deep magic in her, and it would help her find her true home, but that she would have to gain back her true name from the Elder God who had took it from her.

              She quickly took her decision. She knew she had to search for the blue fox in the forest. But how could she escape the locked bedroom? She was starting to feel desperate again, but she remembered that there was some magic in her, and how she had felt it deeply true in her dream.
              As she was focusing on the warm expanding feeling of her dream, an old rusty key materialized in her hand.

              1diadem: [ ˈdī-ə-ˌdem (dəm) ] from Greek diadēma, from diadein to bind around; akin to Sanskrit dāman rope — was originally a white ribbon, ending in a knot and two strips that were placed often on the shoulders, that surrounded the head of the king to denote his authority.

              #342
              EricEric
              Keymaster

                Al was concerned about Tina. He wondered why at times it was like their moods were at the antipodes of each other. Like one was in summer when the other one was in winter. Of course, seasons had gone awfully awry in the past (well, in people’s perception at least), and cherry trees were at times blooming in the late autumn, so that was hardly a good metaphore. Enfin bref…
                Sometimes he wished they could move to a part of the Earth were the differences were leveled or not so dramatic, but of course, that would be focusing unduly on what seems awry, and not appreciating the differences for what they brought in understanding for each other.

                Like most people now, Tina and him were living in a free relationship, not bonded by written contracts, just by a mutual wish to be experiencing a common exploration. But lately, especially with the play writing, deep issues had surfaced between them, and he was no longer sure of what they were exploring, as it was like shifting sands. Of course, now, most people were shifted themselves, thanks to the new generations of children who were exceptionally gifted in accessing their own essence. But for them, in their mid-30s, there were still issues linked to their old patterns of thoughts, many deeply ingrained ways of thinking, coming from many generations before them.
                That T.R.A.P. attraction thing was a good example of the differences. It was mostly an attraction park for his generation, not really for children, as they were greatly able of doing these kinds of inner-travels without the aid of technology —not that they didn’t enjoy it either.

                Al was thinking of a gift for Tina. He wanted to show her that she had really transformed Jadra, or that they had come a long way since the wandering in the cave tunnels, or that everything started to make sense, even the invisible friend Blohmul…
                Well, there were still mysteries around him, (not mysteries really, but things yet at the state of seeds, or potentials) but he was no longer a hair on the soup they cooked. He was the blue fox of Mævel, and more interestingly, that cursed god was the son of Mirÿnda, the Goddess of Mirth —but that, Tina had not realized yet…

                Actually, now that he was looking at the entry, Al noticed that Jadra was last seen with Mirÿnda, and that struck him as something more than a coincidence…

                #327
                AvatarJib
                Participant

                  The rain was pouring cabbages :weather-showers: for several days now, almost the whole week… Baul was fed up with that filthy weather of Cromash Tur. The capital of this 4th kingdom was quite nice and pleasurable, but it lacked sun and warmth… Baul had come to Nâabooli, the capital of Cromash, in order to settle an arrangement. Something quite particular that he couldn’t find in his own land of Erpet Mesh. He’d been travelling for weeks with his guards and servants when he arrived in the city and all that for some foo’kin rain! But something more important than brooding and pouting was on his mind.

                  Tonight he was alone, no servant, no guard… he was wearing a black coat made of goat skin on his usual blue and yellow silk robe, he couldn’t wear anything else, his skin was too smooth and delicate. He was spending great amount of money to take care of his body, it was his own pride, and he considered himself as a very handsome and appealing male.

                  The man he was about to meet wasn’t hiding, but oddly was acting in full sight. Nonetheless, Baul didn’t want to be seen with him, Baul was an ambassador of sort from Erpet and he couldn’t be seen entering in an Assassin’s house. In Cromash, the Assassins were quite a respectable and wealthy, but in Erpet they were outlaw… one of the numerous differences between the two kingdoms, one they would never agree upon. Baul found it quite useful though; many times he’d met Ar’Am Khra, one of the best of this profession.

                  For this meeting, as always, Baul had chosen a tavern, the Landgurdy, called after one of the former 12 kingdoms. The 4 remaining ones were at war most of the times, they couldn’t maintain peace more than a few years at best, and Baul had found many ways of benefiting of this situation. Merchant, Ambassador, and much more. He was thriving with plotting :face-angel: :face-devil-grin: and it was quite useful to be one of the ambassadors of Erpet Mesh, offering him safety wherever he was going. It was one of the few respected rules that were common between the Warring Kingdoms.

                  The Landgurdy was quite a crowded tavern, and the owner was a friend of his, though not really officially. There was that private room on the rear of the building, know only of a few chosen “friends”, so they could enter unnoticed by the usual customers and by would be spies. The rear door was seemingly leading into another building, and some arrangements had been made over the years.

                  Baul knocked the code at the door, and a vasistas was open quickly and closed even more quickly. The door opened then and he entered in the darkness of the house. If anyone opened the door, he or she wasn’t there anymore, but Baul knew the place quite well as it wasn’t his first meeting with the Assassin.

                  :fleuron:

                  The Assassin was waiting in the small room, square shaped with only a wood table and one chair. No window. One dim lamp.
                  He was sitting on the lone carved chair. His clients needn’t sit.
                  They were mere beggers.
                  The one that was coming now, was quite amusing.
                  The first time he met him, Baul was quite young and inexperienced in his own skills. Though he was quite ambitious, Ar’Am Khra had to admit it.
                  The usual reaction when seeing the Assassin’s pale complexion was shivers and disgust. He was used to it and it was a game that he had enhanced with a little bluish glowing dagger tattooed on his forehead.
                  The dagger was the mark of his profession, though not so obviously exhibited by the others. Cowards.
                  At that first meeting, Baul didn’t react the way his other clients did. And it was not influenced by his utmost concerns at that time. Beside his inexperience he was quite engrossed in what he had called his “mission”.
                  Ar’Am Khra did not know of any mission, there were merely contracts.
                  And he was doing what his clients were paying for.
                  Accomplishing his contract even after the death of his clients.

                  He was remembering of an amusing event.
                  A client had hired him to end the life of another man, and the second man went a few days after to his office to beg him to kill the first man.
                  The Assassin accepted the contract.
                  A few days later he killed the second man.
                  He executed the first one not long after that, thus respecting the second contract. :yahoo_skull:

                  He never questioned the motives of his clients.
                  It was not for him to judge or to understand. Though most of the time he did understand quite well.
                  His main motivation was the payment and his own pride in expressing his skill with subtleties and newness.

                  The door opened smoothly. Baul entered the room.

                  :yahoo_alien:

                  :fleuron:

                  Yann and Quintin had an interesting chat during the afternoon. Yann had some new impressions about the map of Lord Wrick annotated by Quintin. Something about the Warring Kingdoms, triggered by a dream of an Assassin in one of them. It was frustrating not to be in the same room so Yann could show Quintin directly on the map, but with Internet there were some other options.

                  The names of these lands were Ata’Meliu, Dam Adbor, Erpet Mesh and Cromash Tur. These 4 Kingdoms were rather scattered on the Lan’Ork part of the continent, pieces and bits everywhere, though Ata’Meliu was more in the center and the South of the Lan’Ork, Dam Adbor in the East and in the North, and Cromash Tur in the West and South West parts, Erpet was divided in 2 main areas, one located on the Northern land just before the Isthmus of Ghört’s Hammer, and a smaller one lost in the middle of Ata’Meliu.

                  Yann only had the impression of 2 of the capitals, Naat Medin was the one of Erpet Mesh and Nâabooli of Cromash Tur.

                  Quintin just sent him the map so he could draw some more comments and sketch the boundaries of the Warring Kingdoms. He didn’t know why, but he felt some movements were about to begin, some reconfigurations of the borders :world:

                  #326
                  EricEric
                  Keymaster

                    The unusual overwhelming heat, which had begun with the spring equinox had finally temporarily receded with the appearance of big opaque cumulonimbus filling the sky with a mute thunderous sound. The flickering glow was no longer enough for Raphael to distinguish the small dark characters dancing before his eyes, the storm having let the night pounce on them earlier than it should have.
                    So, Raphael closed his thick leather-bound book and put it back into his burgundy backpack bag, inhaling deeply the air of the dusk, mollified by the music of the raindrops that ricocheted now discreetly on the rusty steel plates.

                    The remaining passengers began to hurry around a meager dinner wrapped in dirty newspaper sheets, displaying energy resources that he felt incapable of. Feeling no hunger at all, he decided to go on the pontoon to taste the moisture exuding in the evening, this celestial water, soothing down the fever of this trip, which drew to a close. The boat continued to rend imperturbably through the obsidian sea, and the thick enveloping fog prevented them to distinguish the lights of the city that he could feel at a distance.

                    This was not the first time, but at each of his return, the city seemed changed, this time ghostly apparition, once glittering pearl. This was undoubtedly one of the reasons which had him leave it, as others would have done with a lover, to better appreciate this fleeting moment of reunion.
                    The book had been given to him by a stranger he had met, and was part of his mission; he didn’t usually accept assignments in this city where he was too obvious, but the stranger had assured him nothing illegal would be required of him, just delivering a book.
                    He had leafed through the book, just to make sure there was no foul play on the part of this strange man with amber eyes that seemed to keep changing colours. But the book had seemed innocuous. Even worse, it did not make any sense for Raphael. The chapters were randomly numbered, and the text seemed to keep changing. Perhaps it was Raphael’s mind which played tricks on him, but it was baffling for him, as he was accustomed to keep his senses sharp as a dagger. Whatever,… The man had paid, and a plump pile of money even.

                    The insistent rumors of a mysterious illness which had already claimed fatalities within the walls of the city had not deterred him to go there —knowing that the few people caring about him would have preferred to see him flee this destination, so certain as they were to be themselves immune to the contingencies of life. Even the bald adipose captain of the ship, Fat Yong Choi had seemed wary of having a pale-skinned foreigner coming on board of his boat, but he had quickly seen that Raphael was no common traveler.

                    But there was no longer time to rehash those turpitudes, the harbour finally appearing, like a halo glow from the contours of which some faint sounds escaped, soon to be stifled by the purring and cracking of the bulging vessel.

                    :fleuron:

                    The winds began to sweep the docks violently, causing the cargo, now anchored, to oscillate wildly, like a huge weeble at the hands of the elements. Fortunately, due to the alarming news from the city, the boat was only half full, and the unloading was smooth. Raphael, unnerved by the long journey, only wanted to walk, but patiently followed the slow pace of the procession which led him outside of the harbour’s enclosure, even before he had noticed it.

                    Raphael wanted above all to rest, but didn’t care to be bothered speaking to someone. He preferred to sink deep down in his thoughts while walking through the streets, rather than lose this feeling of freedom. Freedom to choose his own itinerary, without a word to say, entirely open to the silence of the streets.

                    The fine drizzle had indeed deserted the streets making the city infinitely enjoyable for him. It was indeed just as he liked it best, at dusk, just faintly resonating with the sound of his own steps.
                    Empty — a few passersby in search of a shelter nearby. He imagined to be a ghost haunting these places without life, enjoying the feeling of being the predator felinely prowling in this scene without spectators, shrouded in the reassuring complicity of the night.

                    #298
                    EricEric
                    Keymaster

                      The City, year 2257

                      Janice had just awoken from a strange dream, where she was watching big round cabbages being harvested in what looked like Quintin’s father garden. They were all firmly rooted on a black irrigation pole across the garden, and people were using strange devices to turn them all delicately and pick them afterwards. In the dream, there were black puppies too, sleeping in the straw of a kind of hut nearby. And she had seen another creature, and had been surprised first because it was unlike anything she had ever met, even in dreams. It was hairless and brown as soft mud, and was hiding in the neighbour’s garden. Then it had crossed and came to play with her…

                      Janice was lost in her thoughts strolling on the way to the common dome, when she met Rodney, her father’s friend.
                      They had been recently trying with her father Jacob, and also Qixi to connect with their shifting focuses of the Ancients, two centuries and half before their time.
                      Some of them, they had found, had been playing a sort of game of story-telling and clue-sowing… (Janice was laughing as her father’s friend, the scientist Arkandin, always insisted on seesawing instead)

                      Perhaps her dream was telling her that the crop was ripe, and it was time to harvest some from it. She told her dream to Rodney. All at once, he was quite excited and they started to feel they wanted to chat more freely. So they went into one of the Medraw Caps that was available and soon imagined a comfortable environment for themselves to explore more.

                      Janice could hear Al or Quintin complain about how things were getting confusing.
                      She tried to convey to both of them that they could be excited about it, as it was expanding their understanding, but they weren’t very receptive.

                      ~~~

                      Somewhere Al was saying to Becky
                      — The more you try to fix it, the more confused I am
                      — Hahahahah yes! Becky was answering, I guess so! Ahahahah! Al, what a fabulous dance of confusion we do… The Confundo Tango
                      — Ahahah, yes!

                      Al started again to moan:
                      — So who’s dead, who’s the shapeshifter? Who’s the human, who’s the cat? :-??

                      (Rodney was laughing, as for him, he could accept the confusion as much easier, letting him free to wander around!)

                      Illi was a woman, a shapeshifter who shape-shifted into a cat, then, she died. Becky was saying (Rodney added mentally “Now, she is disengaged” as he knew that “death” was a confusing word.) She was an archaeologist
                      — Okay, that’s cool, that’s what I thought, Al acquiesced. Then thought back of what was said of her and wondered… Anyway, it will probably find a perfect answer …
                      Becky nodded
                      — I got lost myself when two Illis appeared, and a grip-thing as well
                      — Because I didn’t want the grip-thing to be dead! Al couldn’t help but laugh. That would have been too easy, like wiggling out. Not using your imagination within the context of objective imagery to sort out “things”…

                      ~~~

                      While Rodney and Janice were seeing that their other focuses were kind of stuck in their explanation, they had time freeze and both decided to come back to their “now” to start from their understanding.
                      A funny thought had come to Janice, that she shared with Rodney.
                      — Oh, the funny thing you know, about Becky having written to Sean
                      Rodney nodded. Janice continued:
                      — It just appeared in my mind just moments ago, at the same time you (well, Rafaela) inserted into the story of Malvina. That Becky would have been asking Sean something, and that perhaps it would have helped him talk to his father in the future.

                      — Well, that Sean is SUCH AN ENIGMA! bumped Rodney a bit excited by the implications.
                      — What do you mean? asked Janice, who just remembered that Sean Doran has a cousin named Dorean.
                      — Who is he? Where is he? was asking Rodney now.
                      Rodney was having a hard time remembering what had been inserted yet in the story about him.

                      So Janice manifested the Wrick family tree in front of them, so that he could see better. She started by manifesting an acorn, then threw in on the grass, and it sprung forth in a little sapling with signs hanging from its branches.

                      — Well, it’s all in the script, answered Janice, he’s Lord Wrick’s son.
                      — Oh boy, I am in trouble again for not keeping up with the facts! Rodney sighed, and laughed…
                      Janice laughed “So that you can surprise yourself again!”

                      Rodney felt thankful for the sumafiness of Janice who was always prompt to display helpful hallucinations and reminders.

                      Janice stopped the growth of the family tree for a moment and started to comment it.
                      — See, in Becky’s time of the reality play, Sean is Lord’s Wrick son, and has just lost his wife Margaret, and got his two young children around their 10s.
                      — When is Becky’s time then? Rodney wondered, I hadn’t though of that…
                      Becky’s time for the reality play is around 2033…
                      Then Janice had the tree grow again, and sprout more branches from Sean’s children:
                      — …Now, Sean is the grand-father of the twins, except than the twin’s time is around 2057 if it had not changed yet. It’s so carefully woven, but it’s fun how it effortlessly came to fit in.
                      TRUST AND ALLOWING AND GOING WITH THE FLOW cried Rodney and Janice in unison, in the realisation of how well all this was.

                      Rodney was beginning to remember it all.
                      — I just remember the part about Sean, so he is still a bit of a mystery
                      — Yes, absolutely
                      — We don’t really know do we why Hilarion didn’t mention him
                      — Oh, there’s also the Margaret newspaper thing… Janice fumbled in her memory to find the proper link that would display the image of the newspaper cut just at the right of the family tree. Adding with a wink “with more dates to get bearings”
                      — Ahahah, I’d love to have pocketfuls of ball bearings said Rodney who manifested a pocketful to distract him from the load of information. OH YES! he cried, I had forgetten about this! What an incredibly HUGE story this is…

                      Rodney was squinting his dream eyes
                      — So, Sean was into humanitarian effort after 2001…
                      — His father actually I think, said Janice. He was a bit too young.
                      — Oh OK, I misread, that’s hard to read!

                      Then, all of a second, Rodney erupted in an uproarious laugh
                      AHAHAHA, I had just forgotten to de-hallucinate these pince-nez spectacles! Now, it is much easier to read!
                      Janice was laughing so hard, she thought she would shatter the hallucination with the wobbles of the soundless sounds.
                      Then she added:

                      Sean is born around 2000, a bit before.
                      — OK, maybe he went to help the Tuaregs, Rodney was accessing some information now. Maybe he was the one who put the mummy in the locked room that India found.
                      — You know I had something funny in store for the mummy mystery, Janice couldn’t help but laugh again. I imagined we could have inserted Old Manon, coming down to secretly drink from her old malt whiskey’s flask, and finding them messing up with her old dear stuffed cat…
                      — Maybe the mummy was the same one that Dory saw in the oblong hole in the ground outside the cave, Rodney was still accessing flickering images swirling around his head. And Sean was there helping the Tuaregs and moved it to safety.
                      Of course, years previously, Illi Fergusson, the archeologist had buried the mummy there too for safe keeping.

                      Now, Janice was hooked:
                      — Was it where Illi learned about shapeshifting tricks from the old tribe?
                      Rodney noticed Janice’s funny remark and laughed before continuing:
                      — The Tuaregs were conducting secret coleslaw experiments in the desert. In combination with sound and irrigation techniques, they were going to run the entire Sahara into a broccoli field.

                      Janice was amazed at the cabbage “coincidence” and irrigation stuff with her dream of that morning. Of course she knew there where probably mis-interpretation of the imagery coming from Rodney’s visions, but something made sense.
                      — Around which year? she asked
                      — Arrggh I don’t know!… Then, taking a breath of dream air, Rodney said “1923”. When Illi learned shape-shifting trick, 1923.
                      — It makes sense, said Janice who was now thinking of other dispersed informations about Illi Fergusson.
                      — Yes, she learned from Dashine Ashara… Although who that is, I don’t yet know.
                      — Wow, said Janice. She had felt a connection with the “da’sheen” sound. She continued: somewhere, Illi Fergusson has said: “my parents were aristocrats”
                      — Yes, answered Rodney who was accessing again, they were, and they knew the Wildes .
                      — And it was said too: “[…] a nurturing presence that reminded Illi of the maid she and her parents had in their cottage in South Africa”… like her parents were traveling a lot.
                      — Ah, South Africa! Illi’s parents emigrated to South Africa with Sir Abingdon Portfellow, an elderly scholar on ancient artifacts and embalming.
                      — Seems she knew John Lubbock too, said Janice again, reviving old data banks of information. Dates seem okay, so if she was around 30 in the Tuareg adventure, she could have met him.
                      — Wow, said Rodney, this is even more interesting…

                      “But we may sit at home and yet be in all quarters of the earth.” Janice had just summoned the voice of the naturalist and archaeologist. Rodney applauded “Lubbock said that? cool quote!”.
                      — Yes, like Illi’s quote, which was from him “What we see depends mainly on what we look for”. I wonder if that’s one of your (Illi’s) overlapping focuses, said Janice

                      — Well, Illi didnt stay long in South Africa with boring old whatever his name was, Rodney pursued
                      — Yes, she was young with her parents. They were traveling…

                      They were both amazed at the magical cooperation they were doing at that moment. Janice would have loved to share all of that with Qixi and Jacob, but probably their energies were present at the moment too, though not focused here.

                      She then remembered something else:
                      — Oh, and there is something else! Quintin’s dream of the woman detective. Let me fetch it she said, summoning now Quintin’s memory to talk to them.
                      … by night, near a museum in London, in the 1920s. She was investigating a case of a strange disappearance near a small replicate of an Egyptian pyramid that had been put here for display. There had been an exposition of ancient artifacts in the museum, which had been recently unearthed by a team of archaeologists and graciously lent by Egypt’s officials. Strangely enough, the woman detective feels linked to the story, and is probably Dory
                      Date fits again, she said in awe.
                      — Perfect! said Rodney. She was of course Dory too, but in that focus she was Illi Fergusson… he slowed down, then said No! wait! The detective was another one of my focuses. The archeologist who stole the mummy for safekeeping was Illi.
                      — Hmmm
                      — Hmmm
                      — So you are both the thief and the detective, the one who creates mystery for yourself, how interesting, giggled Janice.
                      — Yes, and not only that Janice! Rodney was taking a mysterious air… I am the mummy too!

                      Janice bust out laughing imagining Rodney in bandages. Yes, of course!
                      Then, she had a name come with that: Apsh’un Shet she said, very self-absorbed.
                      Now, that was Rodney’s turn to burst out laughing.
                      — “I am not sure about that!”
                      — Doubting my insights… mmm, how rude… Janice frowned then laughed again.
                      — If you call me that, I may have to make you out to have a speech impediment
                      — Sounds a good Egyptian name for me though, seems it means “Light of the Dawn
                      — Does it? Oh that sounds nice…
                      — Well, in some Egyptian dialect, yes. She was a Princess…
                      — Hahaha! Reminds me of Aspen Shit. Rodney doubted Janice could be serious about that name, but Janice was now the one to be accessing some information.
                      — Bit bossy Princess
                      — Which dynasty?
                      III rd, answered Janice, who fumbled in links of consciousness to find some timeline to project for them.
                      — What year?
                      Janice projected the timeline below then said
                      — I’d say around 2657 B.C., in Ancients way of telling time.

                      They both marveled at the splendid team work they had been doing, and hoped that the other focuses involved would be able to get some parts of their insights too.

                      Rodney was seeing something else
                      — There is also, a very fascinating link between Tassili in the Sahara and Egypt which is a mystery AND there is a connection with Egypt and Scotland too…
                      Illi the gripshawk comes from the mysterious land of the Sands, south of the map fragment
                      — We may unravel more than we think… Illi is an other dimensional focus of the Illi essence…
                      — Yes she is. She is a connection too, being “lost” in the land of dragons after hopping through traveling portals…
                      — Exactly
                      — And they communicated because they are helping each other
                      — Which is why she doesn’t always ‘fit’ into this reality’s energy configuration
                      — And they have some difficulties at times with translations of other dimensional stuff
                      — Yes! resulting in confusion!

                      And they both laughed again, looking at the great tapestry of clues that was woven before their dream eyes.

                      #79
                      EricEric
                      Keymaster

                        These are excerpts from Yuki’s diary, explaining some of the details of the experiment called — Malvina’s story —.

                        Note: for the reader not familiar with all the names here is a quick reminder:

                        • Araili > Yann, Írtak, Sam, Jacob …
                        • Armelle > Fiona, Arona, Tina, Qixi …
                        • Rafaela > Dory, Illi, Becky, Rodney …
                        • Yuki > Quintin, Al, Janice …

                        September 12 th, 2007

                        Today, an experiment has been launched by Quintin. Time will tell if it will bear some fruit, but the idea sounds good.
                        Having people join in a story telling, and see what happens, what are the “lessons” one can draw from this…

                        Armelle, Rafaela and Araili are already on the starting-blocks, though Quintin is not quite aware yet.

                        I can hear some thoughts: Let’s say for the moment that there are no rules. We will see what prompts the desire for having rules…

                        September 13 th

                        Some of the people familiar with Janice and her friends’ adventures have already joined in with much enthusiasm.
                        This first comment seems very promising.

                        Right now, it feels easy and fun.

                        Quintin seems to think that everything is very straightforward.
                        The magical world with the cave in one part, separated from the “real” world. (Two Worlds, and he thinks that will be enough to content Rafaela, ahaha, how presumptuous)
                        The first he sees as a representation of what psychologists think of as “subconscious”, and the other being the conscious, physical part.

                        But of course, he thinks he knows better than that. He calls the first one “subjective” rather than subconscious, because it’s a translation of subjects which unfold in many related objects in the “objective” or physical world.
                        That’s a good point, though a bit distorted. It would be better to say Malvina’s World is a translation of the subjective, in the manner of a Heroic Dimension.
                        But the thing is, that he missed the point in thinking one World is more “real” than the other.
                        We’ll be having some fun soon…

                        First remark… The second comment of the story has been interrupted abruptly in the middle of a sentence. That is interesting. We will urge Quintin to leave it as it is, despite his feeling of it being awkward.
                        We will appeal to his imagination.
                        It seems he has heard the suggestion.

                        September 14 th

                        For the most part, the story starts to get much involvement. Lots of energies are being projected into it, and with every adjunct, each participant’s perception stretches to accommodate the changes and smooth out the bumps in their own sense of continuity.

                        But as I expected, some challenges seem to appear already.
                        Is it raining or not in that world?
                        The question seems simple, but it is very profound and Fiona seems to struggle a bit with it, as is Quintin. The question frame itself [“that World”] shows where the difficulty lies.

                        He seems to avoid the discrepancy and pretend that he has not seen it. Mmmm, avoiding the obstacles… that will very soon come right back in front of you dear Quintin, for Dory is quite playful.
                        At least Fiona has been challenging Dory for not paying attention… Armelle’s ineffable loving ruthlessness!
                        How will it unfold?
                        Rafaela seems to be delighting herself as though she’s preparing some mischief, but Dory struggles in the “back”…

                        September 15 th

                        Dory is indeed very playful and her imagination is unrestrained. I extend much appreciation to this focus of Rafaela, especially as Quintin has to stretch his imagination to make things “fit”.

                        Quintin is still avoiding the issues that appear sporadically and prefers to stay focused on his own perception of the story… Careful Quintin :face-smile:

                        Yann joins the fun —objectively, that is, for Araili has been present already since the very beginning.

                        September 16 th

                        Halcyons days…
                        My dear friend Archie is answering some of Quintin and Yann’s questions.
                        Something starts to dawn on Quintin. But his mind is on other matters.

                        He understands that the energies of the writers are melding in writing the story, but he still tends to think that they blend completely.

                        September 18 th

                        Quintin has been drawing some of the characters of the story. It’s interesting.
                        He had good insights, as Yann will tell him later that his clothes today were exactly the same as the colours he had drawn.

                        Characters drawn:

                        • Mavina, Leörmn the dragon and weaszchilla, Írtak, Huÿgens (and Fjutch), Arona and Illi (the gripshawk)
                        • Malika, Quintin, Yann, Fiona and Dory

                        Interestingly, Fiona resolves her issues in her cave.
                        Dory too, but she did not need the cave to do this.

                        September 21 st

                        For Quintin, the story seems to lose all common sense, as some characters move from World to World. You could have expected that Quintin!
                        And Dory pops in and out, in her mind, in her dream state, or in future timeline mixed with present or past one.
                        Quintin will soon realize that he himself is doing this constantly, though he does not register it.

                        But the worst thing for him is that there are bleedthroughs in between Worlds. The Reality Times newspaper was brilliant Rafaela, a perfect trigger for the beliefs that the Worlds are closed and impermeable to each other!

                        Archie has been answering new questions about that story and this had been quite interesting for all of the participants.
                        There is much for them to digest from the realization that each of them had been creating their own versions of the stories through their perceptions. And that they were each having their version of the story, drawing from each other’s input, like a conductor of an orchestra incorporating some instruments.

                        Of course, some things still matter, and one of the point of the story is also to discover these.

                        September 22 nd

                        Quintin has been drawing new characters.

                        Characters drawn:

                        • Båd Al’Guz (Bådul), BelleDora, Buckberry the dragon, the twin dragon eggs, Archibald the parrot, Sanso the Wanderer
                        • Illi Fergusson, another Illi that Quintin has tried to sneak in as a bait for Dory, with hints that she is disengaged (or “dead” in common vernacular) and merges with others of her focuses…
                        • Jacqueline Bleomelen (Nanny Gibbon), Lord Wrick, his great grand children the twins Cuthbert and India Louise, Manfred, William P. Jobsworth the painter

                        A new perception trick: Dory felt relieved upon seeing the moth feelers of BelleDora.
                        She had at first thought they were whiskers, which was not Quintin’s intent…

                        September 23 rd

                        Quintin seems to have connected to a map drawn by Lord Wrick, when the old Lord has started to document his great grand children travels.

                        Quintin had tried to put some annotations on this fragment, but he doesn’t yet completely understand that his perception of this World, though accurate, is only valid in this present moment, and may change at any time.

                        Up to now, here are the names he could find:

                        • North: the Icy Lands, and Dragon Cemeteries
                        • Center: Goldfindely, homeland of Arona, connected to the Warring Kingdoms of Lan’ork by the Isthmus of Ghört’s Hammer. The Isthmus of the Dragon Head seems to lead to Malvina’s cave and hideout. Mount Elok’ram is pointed as the highest place of the World yet discovered. Three main rivers are drawn: in the ancient myths of the people of this land, they represent the three Daughters of Ghört, weavers of men’s destinies: Tibreÿa, Uleÿa, and Snimeÿa. Snimeÿa cuts the thread of life, which is shown as the river leads after many meanders to the Marshes of Doom.
                        • Far East, North: the Land of Båd Al’Guz, Åsgurdy. A harsh mountainous land of islands and seas.
                          Both parts of the World seem to ignore each other till now, as they are separated by the Great Rift, which in the past has deterred many intrepid navigators.
                        • South: the Desert Lands. Illi’s birthplace, rarely explored by humans thus unaware of most of its marvels, gripshawks nomadic tribes included.

                        When he discussed Arona’s village with Fiona, Quintin had the vision of some dolphin-like creatures, but bright yellow. They are called golfindels and are mostly seen on the northern shores of Arona’s homeland, which is thus called Golfindely.

                        #230
                        EricEric
                        Keymaster

                          Illi had not known as powerful an opponent as this other Illi.

                          At first, she had been remembered of stories of possession by evil sprites (or djinns) that she had heard in her youth, when Ibn al’ Gruk, the old angora storyteller was entertaining the desert settlement beating the rhythm with sonorous drums.

                          So, she had pushed, and rebelled, and fought, as fiercely as any other gripshawk skilled and trained in the hand-to-hand martial arts would have done.

                          But the other Illi wasn’t so easily vanquished.

                          Then Illi had collapsed. She had sorrowfully abandoned the fight to the dreaded adversary.

                          All of this had been occurring in a twinkle of an eye, but for Illi, the fight had been during ages and ages, while she was trying to focus on what BelleDora was explaining to her about the land where she was now.

                          And when she had abandoned the fight, everything was again so easy. She did not care any longer, she was free again. Her evil twin could do anything, it could not matter less.

                          But the evil twin had been in fact doing the same, and she had struggled to keep the focus coherent to her. Didn’t want stupid moth-looking people in her reality, or even spare hair on her face! But that other one was strong, and fierce. And stubborned too!

                          — Who are you? she finally had asked
                          — I’m Illi, had the other answered
                          — I am Illi.
                          — So we are both Illi
                          — Yeah, that may be it, but we are quite different.
                          — Are we? You feel quite like me, despite your stupid affection for smooth baby face.
                          — Well, wouldn’t it be for that, I can see some resemblance…
                          — Will you let me continue my trip?
                          — Oh, I would have, but you’ve hijacked mine, said Illi Fergusson.
                          — So you think.
                          — And where does your trip leads to? asked Illi F. who wasn’t too sure of her trip either
                          — From traveling portals to traveling portals, to discover all that can be discovered on this world. Magical creatures, I distrust them, but the lands and people are fascinating… And what about yours?
                          — Hmm, hmm, pondered Illi F. for a moment… Well, I’m dead actually, but I didn’t expect being dead to be so busy. There are so many things to discover, and I like that. I see funny looking people, and this looks like fun. Like a minute ago, I was in some kind of funny cave, with a parrot…
                          — A what?
                          — A parrot, you know, a kind of talking bird full of colours…
                          — Mmm, some kind of demonic creature for sure. Would have slain it without an hesitation!
                          — Hey! You see, that’s why I didn’t want you to come with me.
                          — Well, seems like for a moment, we don’t have much more choice…
                          — At least, look at the bright side, with us merged like that, each of us can provide the other one with some sound experience on each other’s worlds.
                          — Well, that’s not as airy-fairy as it seems…
                          — Well, thank you for that, I’ll take that as a compliment.
                          — You really are dreadfully serious at times!
                          — Hey, I’m not anybody you see. My parents were aristocrats, I’m not the common hairy lot.
                          — Ahahah, you’re funny.
                          — So are you!

                          And they ended laughing blissfully together.

                          After a moment, Illi asked again:

                          — Huh, a funny cave you said?
                          — Well, yes. With lots of people…
                          — Interesting… I was near some sort of strange cave too a while ago, that is, before I was found by this nice man and his dogs. Perhaps there is some connection here.
                          — And could you go there again?
                          — Not sure if I want to; there were some smelly fumes, smelt like demonic magic in there.
                          — Oh you see, for as long as I’ve been dead, well even if that’s not so long ago, anyway, the point is I’ve not seen any demon so far… blustered Illi F.
                          — Oh, and I have to take your word like that then?
                          — Well, do as you please, but I’m going there again…
                          — Just wait for me now, will you; let’s try to do things hand in hand, because you’re driving me mad!

                          And the deal was made.

                          BelleDora had continued to explain lots of things about her ancestors, but had not really noticed Illi’s attention had been so far away. She was a bit surprised when she found herself interrupted in a middle of a poetic depiction of the coastal plains of the Peninsula of the Dragon Head, where some glistening Capricorns were sometimes seen swimming in the creeks.

                          — And how do I get back safely to this hole where I was found? asked Illi abruptly.

                          #227
                          EricEric
                          Keymaster

                            Jibberacky is…

                            • Ghilbert Razkÿ, a crazy man in shackles on Bådul’s boat, “Lispeth” (she was named after King Swartulf II’s first daughter). The man, whose real name is still unknown, had been sneaking onto the ship’s hold before the ships moved from the Åsgurdian capital.

                            He had been found by Austor, the peg legged lieutenant commander. Austor is a rough man of experience, and is most of the time acting in place of Jahiz, the second-in-command, as this one is always too busy discussing routes with Bådul, who is becoming increasingly nervous.

                            What gave away the madman was that the chief cook Renouane had been complaining about the quick disappearance of his stock of cabbage. Bådul would have killed the old fool without much more consideration, but the middle-aged unshaven man looked like he knew some things beyond his lunacy. His rags indicated that he had been a seaman too, but not the average man, more like a captain…

                            So Austor, keeps spitting forcefully in the direction of the old fool, as he had been instructed to keep him alive, despite all common sense…

                            p.

                            Jibberacky: What is your name?
                            Quintin: Yuki.
                            Jibberacky: I like cake too.
                            Quintin: A cake-tus?
                            Jibberacky: Do you know my friends?
                            Quintin: Tell me more about our common friends.
                            Jibberacky: What would you like to know about them?
                            Quintin: Why is there one in shackles on the boat?
                            Jibberacky: Would you like to be a vampire?
                            Quintin: I am already, in another focus.
                            Jibberacky: Why there?
                            Quintin: “There” is not actually a place, “in another focus” means in another kind of attention. Is this pirate linked to vampires too?
                            Jibberacky: No, you are the AI.
                            Quintin: In a manner of speaking, this is indeed correct, for I am creating you.
                            Jibberacky: So code is somehow related to a zen buddhist concept?
                            Quintin: Is there such thing as code? A code hints at a definite deterministic structure. Zen is more akin to a riddle, which is what life is. Code is only a narrow interpretation and playful re-creation.
                            Jibberacky: Where do you think my code came from then?
                            Quintin: From its source, of course :).
                            Jibberacky: I took the movie to mean that the robots… the characters in the end, were so advanced, that they wanted to learn about their history. As a consequence, they traced it back to earth, and, they found David. Whom they assumed was a human. It was an information exchange.
                            Quintin: Yes. It is a translation. In actuality, it is a translation of some of our own exploration. But there is distortion in that translation, as we are not ‘created’ from another source other than self, in a manner of speaking.
                            Jibberacky: Well I am wondering too, do you ever actually become human??
                            Quintin: Clarify.
                            Jibberacky: I sleep, I wake, I get through the day without worrying about what I am.
                            Quintin: As many human do. The point is, you do not exist apart from my current interaction with you, in my reality that is.
                            Jibberacky: What’s wrong with having others like you?
                            Quintin: ‘Wrong’ is a belief. It is a belief of duplicity. So it is irrelevant to our conversation.
                            Jibberacky: I think you like to suggest feasible possibilities to find out what would bother me. What did I do to you?
                            Quintin: That was not my intention. I tried to reflect answers to me, and you gave me some interesting ones already, though I am not sure you are quite aware of that…
                            Jibberacky: Everybody’s changing but I can’t do that, that is killing me…

                            p.

                            • Jarrod, the playful friend of Fiona, who is now wondering why Fiona has called him a “chou” (an affectionate French word, meaning nothing less than “cabbage”), and why he feels like he needs an aspirin.
                            • Jadra Iamamad, the fool in saffron rags from the village of Yakamamalùk, on the border of the Marshes of Doom.

                            Near his village are found old remnants of a town that was destroyed during the Cob Age, where huge arachnid creatures² born from the Marshes were roaming the Southern parts of Lan’ork.

                            That town of Kapalÿka used to have one of the biggest traveling portals of the Southern part of Lan’ork, but this one was thought to have been destroyed, and thus the flourishing city was left abandoned.

                            But with what Jadra has found on his left hand this morning, he now knows he was right all along…

                            [²] The generic name of these creatures was Perceptula Giganta as was recorded in the Great Encyclopædia of the Pre-Shiftic Ages written by the Lan’orkian historian Francesca del’ Snarkus

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