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  • #4493

    “Did you know that the beyond of the deserts was the birth place of the Master’s tribes — the guy who gave life to GorrashFox said to Olliver in a conspiratorial voice. “I kind of miss him… though he’s too heavy to carry around by day, this chump.” He mused while wagging his tail smelling around for crunchy scorpions.

    “Funny you would say that” said Rukshan, who was ahead of their group, between long strides on top of the sand dunes. “I had dreams about this place, and I get the feeling there is some connection to old Fay legends about these tribes. The Sand tribes had old ties to Fays of the Woods, some said they were even more advanced in the Arts — alchemy mostly. But most of the knowledge has been lost. Only legends remain — that they could crystallise diamonds imbued with life… this sort of things. Some versions of the legends spoke of darker truths, that the diamonds were made to capture elementals, to give them power…”

    He stopped in his tracks. Looking at the horizon, the oasis village they were walking towards started to reveal itself. A beautiful patch of green against the variations of sand colours.

    “If we keep on, we’ll arrive before sunset. Come on!”

    #4462

    Night had fallen when Rukshan came back to the cottage. He was thinking that they could wait a little bit for the trip. He did not like that much the idea of trusting the safety of their group to a stranger, even if it was a friend of Lhamom. They were not in such a rush after all.

    Rukshan looked at their luxuriant newly grown pergola. Thanks to the boost potion Glynis had prepared, it had only took a week to reach its full size and they have been able to enjoy it since the start of the unusual hot spell. The creatures that had hatched from the colourful eggs Gorrash had brought with him were flowing around the branches creating a nice glowing concerto of lights, inside and out.

    It was amazing how everyone were combining their resources and skills to make this little community function. In the shadow of the pergola there was an empty pedestal that Fox had built and Eleri had decorated with nice grapes carvings. Gorrash was certainly on patrol with the owls. His friends had thought that a pedestal would be more comfortable and the pergola would keep Gorrash’s stone from the scorching heat of the sun. Also, he wouldn’t get covered in mud during the sudden heavy rains accompanying the hot spell.

    Seeing the beautiful pedestal and the carved little stairs he could use to climb up, Gorrash had tried to hide the tears in his eyes. He mumbled it was due to some desert dust not to appear emotional, but they all knew his hard shell harboured the softest heart.

    The dwarf had repaid them in an unexpected way. Every day just before sunrise, he would take a big plate in his hands and jumped on the pedestal before turning to stone. It allowed them to put grapes or other fruits that they could eat under the shadow of the of the pergola.

    Rukshan came into the house and he found Margoritt sitting at the dining table on which there was a small parchment roll. Her angry look was so unusual that Rukshan’s felt his chest tighten.

    “They sent me a bloody pigeon,” she said when she arrived. She took the roll and handed it to Rukshan. “The city council… Leroway… he accuses us of unauthorised expansion of the house, of unauthorised construction on communal ground, and of unlicensed trade of manufactured goods.” Margoritt’s face was twisted with pain as the said the words.

    Rukshan winced. Too much bad news were arriving at the same time. If there was a pattern, it seemed rather chaotic and harassing.

    “They threaten us to send a bailif if we don’t stop our illegal activities and if we don’t pay the extra taxes they reclaim,” she continued. “I’m speechless at the guile of that man.”

    Rukshan smiled, he wondered if Margoritt could ever be rendered speechless by anything except for bad flu. He uncoiled the roll and quickly skimmed through the long string of accusations. Many of them were unfair and, to his own opinion unjustified. Since when the forest belonged to Leroway’s city? It had always been sacred ground, and its own master.

    “I have no money,” said Margoritt. “It’s so unfair. I can’t fight with that man. I’m too old and tired.”

    “Don’t forget we are all in the same cottage, Margoritt. It’s not just you. Eventhough, they clearly want to evict us,” said Rukshan. “Even if we had enough money, they would not let us stay.” He showed her the small roll. “The list of accusations is so ludicrous that it’s clearly a ploy to get rid of us. First, that road they want to build through the forest, now evicting us from the ground.” And those bad omens from the mountain, he thought with a shiver.

    “We are not going to give them that satisfaction, are we?” asked Margoritt, pleading like a little girl. “We have to find something Rukshan,” she said. “You have to help me fight Leroway.”

    “Ahem,” said a rockous voice. Gorrash had returned from his patrol. “I know where to find money,” he added. “At leas, I think I know. I had another dream about my maker. It’s just bits and pieces, but I’m sure he hid some treasure in the mountains. There was that big blue diamond, glowing as brightly as a blue sun. And other things.”

    A big blue diamond? It sounds familiar. Rukshan thought. There was an old fae legend that mentioned a blue diamond but he couldn’t remember. Is it connected to the blue light Olliver mentioned earlier? He wondered.

    “That’s it! You have to go find this treasure,” said Margoritt.

    Rukshan sighed as he could feel the first symptoms of a headache. There was so much to think about, so much to do. He massaged his temples. The trip had suddenly become urgent, but they also had to leave someone behind to help Margoritt with the “Leroway problem”. And he winced as he wondered who was going to take care of that road business. It was clear to him that he couldn’t be everywhere at the same time. He would have to delegate.

    He thought of the telebats. Maybe he could teach the others how to use them so that he could keep in touch and manage everything at distance. He sighed again. Who would be subtle and sensitive enough to master the telebats in time?

    #4459

    Eleri glanced at Glynis. So she was feeling it too.

    Eleri had woken in the night, in the dead of the dark hours before dawn, aware of something she could only describe as a central core running through the dream, or a central path so to speak, that all the elements of the dream branched from. It wasn’t much clearer than that, with regard to details, but the feeling of recognition of the bones of that central thread were profoundly real. It was fear.

    #4453
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Liz had an idea, and was glad that the others were all out on a day trip to the museum so that she could think about it without interruptions. It had occurred to her that there was probably a theme right under their noses regarding the multitudes of non endings in the stories. Where exactly had they all ended without actually ending?

      Sure enough, the first one she looked at seemed promising with the mention of sheets:

      Yurick woke up from another spell of dreams. The patterns of the bedsheets where as though his newly inserted tile was creating a strong combination with other tiles.
      In his puzzlement, he forgot to take a physical dream snapshot…”

      Liz had had a personal breakthrough with bedsheets recently, and was pleased with this encouraging start.

      When Liz looked at the next non ending of a story, she wondered if this would prove to be a theme: the characters themselves had gone missing.

      “I haven’t heard a word from Lavender for the longest time, Lilac was wondering, When was the last time? Lavender, where ARE you?”

      Liz had a slight jolt when she saw the non ending of the story after that, worried that she would find a trend of herself being the last writer to comment. What would that mean, she wondered?

      “Minky was looking smug. “Enjoying the ride?”

      Ending with a question? Well, that was something to think about. Liz was relived to find she wasn’t the last writer to write in the next story:

      “For once, Arona was completely unconcerned about continuity.
      “I wonder if we could harness the power of the wind to create a flash mob to amuse and entertain me?” she suggested.
      Vincentius pondered for a moment “I did once employ a hamster to power a night light, so I don’t see why not.”

      Smiling at the continuity remark, Liz pondered the nature of the message in this one. Anything can be created to amuse… can it be that easy?

      Another nasty jolt as Liz read the last entry in the following story, considering the irritating few days she had just had with the online payment company:

      “She clicked with her dysfunctionning mouse and invalidated the transaction again.”

      Well, Liz said to herself, I certainly hope that little chuckle will have helped change the online transaction situation going on here presently!

      #4445
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        “I dreamed of a red dog,” Liz said with her mouth full of dimpled baby chin, “And a white dog, down by the river.” She picked up a chocolately shell like baby ear off her lap and popped it into her mouth, and continued, “I was going to bring the red dog home, you know, and then, “ Liz paused to bite the little baby button nose off, leaving just the eyes and forehead, “I realized that it was just fine where it was.”

        “Must you speak with your mouth full of baby faces, Elizabeth?” asked Godfrey, miming a green sick emoticon.

        #4438

        In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

        TracyTracy
        Participant

          full mother line reading
          soft touched
          john dreams
          stood taken
          mind age meant thin rubbish city
          carried tower
          voice meet market

          #4419

          In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            come interest mud completely forget
            follow boring dragon ceiling spell
            latest further dreams liz forgetful
            realised starting towards death run quietly

            #4395
            Jib
            Participant

              Daisy the dung beetle’s daughter applauded when she finished her creation. She had completed a big mandibala of coloured sand, patiently extracted the previous years from dungs her uncle had brought back form the outside world. He had said some of it came from a faraway land where their ancestors had been worshiped by giants. Daisy had tried to imagined being worshiped, but her limited experience of life and of the world made her Goddess dream short lived.
              But what she liked most was that she could put all those pieces of faraway lands in her own composition. She looked at the result, satisfied. At a certain time, she knew a cone of light from outside the Doline would come directly warm her mandibala and her wish to see the outside world would be granted.

              #4385

              In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

              TracyTracy
              Participant

                leaving gardener
                doctor pull potions
                whatever hold threads
                potion holding memory dreaming spot
                book present
                making rude names fear round

                #4381
                Jib
                Participant

                  Liz’s smile melted away when Roberto entered the living room, he was covered in dust and spider webs. What flustered her most wasn’t the trail of dirt and insects the gardener was leaving behind him, but that he was not in India.

                  Liz threw knives at Godfrey with her eyes, a useful skill she had developed during her (long) spare time, but he dodged them easily and they sank straight into the wall with a thud.
                  Finnley rolled her eyes and ordered one of the guy from the TV crew to take the knives off the wall. “Don’t forget to repaint afterward”, she said with a satisfied smile.

                  Godfrey leaned closer to the door. Liz felt words of frustration gather at her lips.

                  “I think I slept too much long,” Roberto said with his charming latino accent. At that time, Liz could almost forgive him not to be in India. “Funny thing is I dreamt I was doing yoga in India, near Colombo.”

                  Godfrey raised his eyebrows and gave Liz a meaningful look, telling he had been almost right all along. He relaxed and smirked. She hated it.

                  “Well, that must be a clue”, Liz said with a look at the butler. “Godfrey, Roberto needs to be in India, and we need to go with him. Book the plane tickets.”

                  “Well, technically, Colombo is in Sri Lanka, not India,” said Finnley.
                  “Small detail,” countered Liz.

                  “What do I do with the knives?” said the TV crew man.
                  Liz looked at the knives, then at Godfrey.
                  “I’ll take them back, they can always be useful where we are going.”

                  “What about the interview?” asked the woman from the TV.
                  “We’ll need a charter,” said Finnley who liked very much to give orders.

                  #4375
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    “I am so tired of my “Remember Your Dreams’ group, Finnley. Shall we go to India instead?” remarked Liz.

                    #4374
                    ÉricÉric
                    Keymaster

                      Godfrey hoped that the week end respite would allow him to remember some of his dreams. With Liz going out for a picnic, and the day off of the staff, he would have the mansion all for himself.

                      #4373
                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        Finnley fervantly hoped that Liz tired of her new ‘Remember Your Dreams’ group soon.

                        #4365

                        The rain had poured again and again, across the night, with short fits of howling winds. There had been no sign of Eleri or Gorrash, and people in the cabin had waited for the first ray of light to venture outside to find them.
                        The newcomer, the quiet potion maker, stayed in her small quarters and hadn’t really mingled, but Margoritt wasn’t concerned about it. She was actually quite protective of her, and had continued her own chatter all through the night, doing small chores or being busy at her small loom, stopping at times in the middle of painful walking. She would however not cease speaking to whomever was listening at the time, or to her goat, or at times just to the wind or herself.

                        Rukshan had had several dreams during the night, and could tell he wasn’t the only one. Everyone had a tired look. Images came and went, but there was a sense of work to be done.

                        There were a few things he had managed to gather during that time awake when meditative state brought some clarity to the confused images.
                        First, they were all in this together.
                        Then, they probably needed a plan to repair the old.
                        As soon as they would find the two missing ones, he would share it with everyone.

                        ‘Hng hng’ — Rukshan opened his eyes to find Olliver drawing on his sleeve. The boy wasn’t very eloquent, but his postures would speak volumes. He was pointing to something outside.

                        Rukshan looked at the clearing just outside the cabin, at first not realising two things had happened. Then they both dawned on him: the first ray of light had come across the cloudy sky, and second, the clearing was empty of the vengeful God.

                        “Grumpf” he swore in the old Elvish tongue “that rascal is surely going after EleriEleri who he now knew was the laughing crone of the story, rendered younger by the powers of her goddaughter, the tricked girl. Eleri, who having inherited of the transmutation powers, had turned the angry God who had been left behind into stone to protect all of them.
                        If the God would find her before they could get her to extract her Shard, at best they would be condemned to another cycle of rebirth, or worse, he would try to kill all of them to extract the other Shards from the others, one by one, until the Gods old powers would be his…

                        #4364

                        Rukshan had stayed awake for the most part of the night, slowly and repeatedly counting the seconds between the blazing strokes of lightning and the growling bouts of thunder.
                        It is slowly moving away.

                        The howling winds had stopped first, leaving the showers of rain fall in continuous streams against the dripping roof and wet walls.

                        An hour later maybe, his ear had turned to the sound of the newly arrived at the cottage, thinking it would be maybe the dwarf and Eleri coming back, but it was a different voice, very quiet, somehow familiar… the potion-maker?

                        He had warned Margoritt that a lady clad in head-to-toe shawls would likely come to them. Margoritt had understood that some magical weaving was at play. The old lady didn’t have siddhis or yogic powers, but she had a raw potential, very soundly rooted in her long practice of weaving, and learning the trades and tales of the weaving nomad folks. She had understood. Better, she’d known — from the moment I saw you and that little guy, she’d said, pointing at Tak curled under the bed.
                        “He’s amazing,” she’d said “wise beyond his age. But his mental state is not very strong.”

                        There was more than met the eye about Tak, Rukshan started to realize.
                        For now, the cottage had fell quiet. Dawn was near, and there was a brimming sense of peace and new beginning that came with the short silence before the birds started again their joyous chatter.

                        It must have been then that he collapsed on the table of exhaustion and started to dream.

                        It was long before.

                        The dragon is large and its presence awe-inspiring. They have just shared the shards, each has taken one of the seven. Even the girl, although she still hates to be among us.
                        The stench of the ring of fire is still in their nostrils. The Gods have deserted, and left as soon as the Portal closed itself. It is a mess.

                        “Good riddance.”

                        He raises his head, looking at the dragon above him. She is quite splendid, her scales a shining pearl blue on slate black, reflecting the moonshine in eerie patterns, and her plastron quietly shiny, almost softly fiery. His newly imbued power let him know intimately many things, at once. It is dizzying.

                        “You talk of the Gods, don’t you?” he says, already knowing the answer.
                        “Of course, I am. Good riddance. They had failed us so many times, forgot their duties, driven me and my kind to slavery. Now I am free. Free of guilt, and free of sorrow. Free to be myself, as I was meant to be.”
                        “It is a bit more complex th…”
                        “No it isn’t. It couldn’t be more simple. If you had the strength to see it, you would understand.”
                        “I know what you mean, but I am not sure I understand.”

                        The dragon smiles enigmatically. She turns to the lonely weeping girl, who is there with the old woman. Except her grand-mother is no longer an old crone, she has changed her shape to that of a younger person. She is showing potentials to the girl, almost drunk on the power, but it doesn’t alleviate her pain.

                        “What are you going to do about them?”

                        The Dragon seems above the concerns for herself. In a sense, she is right. It was all his instigation. He bears responsibility.

                        “I don’t know…” It is a strange thing to say, when you can know anything. He knows there are no good outcomes of this situation. Not with the power she now possesses.

                        “You better find out quick…” and wake up,

                        wake up, WAKE UP !

                        #4363

                        The rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

                        Margoritt showed Glynis to a small area, partitioned off from the main room; a narrow bed, a tiny window to the outside and and a simple wooden shelf.

                        “You’ll be wanting some privacy,” she said. “And something dry to wear,” she added, handing Glynis a dress, plain in shape and made from a soft woven fabric, pearly spheres woven into a dark purple background.

                        The second person to give me something to wear, she mused.

                        The fabric was amazing. It made Glynis think of stars at night and the way you could never see to the end of the sky. It felt both reassuring and terrifying all at the same time.

                        There is magic in the hands that wove this, she thought, hesitant though to voice her thoughts to Margoritt, however kindly she seemed.

                        “A master weaver has made this!” she said instead. “Was it you?”

                        “No, not I … but you are right, it was made by a master … as you can no doubt see, it doesn’t fit me any longer. I’ve had it sitting there going to waste for many years and am glad to put it to use. It doesn’t cover your head like the other did, but really there is no need here.” Margoritt smiled. “Go, get changed. Come out when you are ready and I will have some tea and cake for you. Then you can meet the others properly.”

                        “Is it okay? hissed Sunny in a loud whisper when they were alone, anxiously hopping from one foot to another.

                        “Yes, i think so … I’ve been very careful,” Glynis reached in her pouch and gently pulled out an egg.

                        “It’s amazing, isn’t it … almost golden… for sure it must be the gift the man from the market promised me in my dream … the way it just sat there on the path … lucky I did not stand on it.” She stroked the egg gently.

                        “Sorry about all this, little one,” she said softly to the egg. “I wonder what creature you are inside this shell … and what safe place can we hide you till you are ready to come out of there?”

                        “I can sit on it of course,” said Sunny. “It will be my honour and privilege to assist.”

                        #4359
                        ÉricÉric
                        Keymaster

                          “So, that’s where the gardener has been hiding all this time…” Godfrey thought, quietly stepping out of the shadows into the sinkhole tunnels. “Maybe I’ll just tell Liz’ he has resigned. Although she seemed more taken by this one than with the previous guys…”
                          While the gardener was snoring loudly, he took time to look around, and noticed the sprouting sack.
                          “How curious that those old books have started to come to life again…”

                          An idea had crossed his mind, both dreadful and exciting. The portal…

                          Leaving the gardener to his dreams, and taking another secret exit out of the dark tunnel, opening another succession of doors with the turn of a key hanging from the watch chain of his burgundy waistcoat, he soon found himself reappearing into a deep secret place. A small round room, almost like the inner chamber of a burrow, with no visible door, no window, seemingly lit only by a single ray of light coming from the pinhole in the ceiling, reflected on the glittering curved walls. At one side, was a well, and one could hear the humming sound of flowing underground water.
                          On the well, where deeply carved words : “HC SVNT DRACONES”. Just below them, painted in white in Godfrey’s flowering handwriting : “Here be dragons!”

                          There still was the heavy latch, bolted by a large futuristic-looking lock.

                          Phew, still closed. Godfrey sighed a sigh of relief. He couldn’t imagine the damage to Liz’ frail hold on reality, where she to find about what was lurking behind.

                          Popping a peanut in his mouth, he smiled wryly, reminisced of what Finnley had said about her “discovering” of the attic; yes, their secret was fine with them for now. At least so long as what was locked on the other side stayed there of course…

                          #4356

                          Fox woke up in the mud. He felt thirsty and confused, not knowing where he was or when it was, except that it was night time. He looked around him and despite the darkness he was seeing clearly. He was in a small glade, surrounded by tall trees. The grass had a strange greenish glow and seemed to float around like tentacles trying to seize whatever passed near.

                          An emotion rose from his heart and jumped outside of him before he could feel it. It had a colour. it was blue and had the shape of a drop of jelly, darker in its center. Fox looked, fascinated, as it taunted the blades of grass. His heart jumped as a longer tentacle almost caught the drop, that’s when he knew he had to take it back. He couldn’t let it out into the world like that.

                          Not with the others so close.

                          Fox felt puzzled at the thought. What others was it referring to? He heard someone crying, it sounded like someone miserable. He felt something fall on his hands, droplets of water, and realised he was the one crying. He stood up and was surprised by the height. He found a little pond and looked at his reflection. The lonesome face of a troll was looking back at him.

                          Am I dreaming?

                          #4343

                          “I had another vivid dream last night, Sunny. I dreamed of a man I met when i was selling my potions in the market place in town. He was chasing a little red fox and I gave him some potion … “

                          “You dreamed of a fox? That’s a very good omen and fortuitously also reminds me of a joke.
                          What do you call a fox with a carrot in each ear?
                          Anything you want as he can’t hear you!”

                          Glynis smiled reluctantly.

                          “No, that’s what happened. I’ve not got to the dream part yet.”

                          “My apologies,” said Sunny, nudging her ear gently from his perch on her shoulder. “Please continue.”

                          “Anyway the man from the market came to me in my dream and thanked me. He said his wife was well now. He said to look for a gift in the heartwoods.”

                          “Excellent dream!” said Sunny. “I adore gifts. I will keep my eyes open and hope we find it poste haste. How much further is it now, anyway?”

                          “Another few days travel to the fringe of the heartwoods. According to the map, that’s where the first X is.”

                          They continued in silence, glad of each other’s company on the journey.

                          Glynis had been sad to leave the Bakers and more than a few tears were shed on parting They tried to get her to stay but it was without much conviction for Glynis had shown them the map and, though plain folk, they had sound instincts and knew when something had to be.

                          “Any time you want, Girl,” said Mr Baker gruffly, “you’ll find a home here. You hear me? And make sure you keep in touch.”

                          And Glynis nodded, unable to find the words to thank him for his kindness.

                          And Mrs Baker had made her a new burka. She’d stayed up nights sewing to surprise Glynnis. It shimmered, sometimes green and sometimes blue depending on where the light fell and it felt like silk to the touch. Glynis thought it was the most pretty thing she had ever seen.

                          “You’ve a lovely heart, Lass, and anyone who’s worth a penny will see that and not those scales on your face.”

                          It was the first time either of the Bakers had mentioned her appearance and for a moment Glynis was rendered speechless.

                          But not so, Sunny.

                          “Knock, knock!” he cackled loudly. “Oh come on! It’s a good one!”
                          “Who’s there?” said Glynis softly.
                          “Dragon!”
                          “Dragon who?”
                          “Dragon your feet again?”

                          #4324

                          Eleri opened her eyes but was still seeing the scrunched up piece of paper. She frowned, still looking at the crumpled ball in her dream hand, oblivious to her current state and whereabouts, and remembered an earlier dream. She had been reading a paragraph of text on a card sized piece of paper. It was so clear at the time that her dream self was reading it, and made so much sense, that she knew she was sure to remember it.

                          Sighing, she rubbed her eyes and tried to focus. What had been written, that she had later screwed up?

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