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  • #787
    EricEric
    Keymaster

      A draft suddenly went through the open window, rattling a pile of previously disarrayed papers that Finnley had neatly put on the desk, catching the office cleaner by surprise.
      (Albert is wondering now what is the gender of Finnley, but probably that has to do with his new exploration and isn’t very important. Al is agreeing with himself on using handy ellipsis)

      Finnley, perplexed by the thoughts having went in accompanying the rogue wind, closed the opened window. The air was decidedly more breathable, now the emanations of nicobeck were dispersed. Not to mention the trails of that magpie’s droppings. Finnley would gladly do with a bootle to roll them into a big ball.

      What was with the third-person talking anyway? Finnley was wondering… And who is Al? Finnley knew of a Haley, but no Al for sure…
      Surely that Tattler’s madness was contagious…

      Putting the papers back onto the desk of Mrs Tattler (yes, I think she’s a she this one), Finnley notices something that catches Finnley’s eye (“stop messing with my thoughts!” thinks Finnley)…

      … They were thus one of the first sentient races created by the Powers with limited awareness to populate the lands of Dooane (note: replace all previous occurrences of “Earth” with Dooane, and M’si with Moortuane). Uglings were dwarfish, a bit stout and let’s say plain ugly for most of them. But they inherited a keen mind and greatest forging skills.
      Uglings revered the Power known to them as the Goddess of the Earths, Margiloonia, as their resemblance with raw clay and unpolished rocks were for them the evidence of such lineage. Combining their craft, they created an exquisite cup in dedication to the Goddess. Huriol, the First Ugling King in these times of Legend was given the cup to care for.
      The Power known as Margiloonia upon seeing this offering of acknowledgment to her was very pleased and imbued the cup with transmootation powers which could be used by its true owner for healing, and some said, even to resurrect the flesh…

      A loud knock at the door drew Finnley out of the contemplation.

      Isn’t that vacooming done yet? I have a book to write! The stridulent voice of Elizabeth Tattler was asking behind the still closed door.

      #487

      Jo was looking at Mc Gaughran. He didn’t like him. Especially since he was so insistant at buying their ranch. It was not the price that was important. Mc Gaughran had offered them much already and Jo was a bit shamefull that he even once considered the offer. They had a little argument about that with Elroy, and he had felt very tore appart opposing his brother. He was very close to him and was admiring him so much.

      And he was feeling very protective toward his sister. She could do whatever she wanted, that was not the point. The point was he didn’t want other to bother her. And that Mc Gaughran was looking at her a bit too insistantly to his taste.

      He finished his whiskey an looked at the barman, Thomas. He was a very good friend of Elroy and him and was like a giant dwarf, stout and big red beard. He knew he could count on him to have a look at the man.

      — Have to go, Tommee, he mumbled. Be back later.

      Despite his disgust of Mc Gaughran, he also had some stuffs to check about the new man in town. He was feeling a bit unseasy as if some things would be unfolded, things that should better stay burried. He left the saloon like a shadow.

      #402

      — The legend of Mævel — (Part V)

      Mævel, opening her eyes, found herself in the middle of the forest. It was still dark and the sky was covered with a dark blue haze. Now, she had to find her friend the fox
      How could she do that, in such a wide forest, she started to whine.

      Well, why not start by asking… hooted a rowl nearby.

      Mævel was surprised. She had thought these hot pink speaking owls where found only in legends, not in woods nearby…

      You are in a legend, sweetie retorted the rowl.
      — Oh… Surely the legend of someone else then. Who’s legend it is, I am in, dear rowl?
      — Oh, you can call me Aromelle, sweetie. It’s your legend of course.
      — No kidding? Phew, what a responsibility… I shouldn’t tell you that, but you seem like a rowl I can confide in, err… I’m no hero, I’m not even educated, and I pass winds like any impolite woman or polite green ogress would do… And having everyone know that would be kind of embarrassing… What a legend that would be…
      — Then we’ll just say to the bards to skip that part… said wise Aromelle. Now, you wanted to ask something?
      — Oh yes, I have to find the blue fox.
      — And would you mind being a little more precise about that fox. I know thousands of blue foxes sweetie. Hoohoo, perhaps that’s an exaggeration, but I know quite a few, of others’ legends… You’re not the only legendary one coming into these woods to ask for advice.
      — Oh, I’m sorry, blushed Mævel
      — No need sweetie, snapped the rowl, in fact I know exactly who you are looking for… Wouldn’t that be Gulniforgf, the hunchback one-eyed cleft-lipped ogre cursed by Nærvel, the Goddess of the Waters? she said with an encouraging wink
      — Oh, by Ghört’s sake, no!
      — Hoohooo, no need to swear. Of course it isn’t, I knew that, sweetie. That must be Mifilthion, the toothless bald thousand-year-old troll cursed by Agnima, the Goddess of the Flames, you are looking for, hum? she said slyly
      — Oh, no, no, no… Mine is Blohmrik, he said he was a god…
      — Oh, but you know, everyone is a bit of god in a way, so that’s hardly…
      — He said he was cursed by Lejüs
      SHOOSHOOO, the rowl flapped her wings visibly distraught. That can’t be him! Poor thing… Aromelle added plaintively, you know in these matters of curses, you have to deal with the cursing one, and Shaint Lejüs is a tough one to deal with…
      — Oh, for a moment I was afraid that you’d say Blohmrik was a deaf varicosed warty dwarf… I don’t fear that Lejüs, said bravely Mævel… perhaps a bit hastily, she thought to herself
      — Oh, no, he’s a nice fine man, sweetie, you both would do such a perfect couple…
      — And where do I find him then, Mævel was getting a bit impatient with the winking hooting hoot
      — Well, that’s easy, you just happen to have appeared on top of his burrow.

      What a waste of time, was thinking Mævel… She couldn’t wait for much longer, and after all, the burrow could be a nice place to rest.

      With a quick thanks to Aromelle, she entered the tunnel in front of her.

      #356

      Oh said Arona. All of a sudden she knew she had to be somewhere. She handed the sabulmantium to Sanso.

      She walked, and then she stopped and she waited.

      She did not have to wait long before they appeared. A stocky dwarf, whose presence, despite his small stature, immediately inspired respect. He was accompanied by a young woman, tall and graceful, with shiny golden hair. She was very pretty, but it was the peaceful expression on her face which really caught Arona’s attention. The woman was cradling an infant in her arms.

      Palani, the dwarf, smiled at Arona and held out some food for her. Some aromatic orange fruit she had never seen before, however she was so hungry by now she devoured it greedily.

      Your magic is powerful, said Palani. Arona wanted to deny it, but found she couldn’t. So she just nodded.

      The woman smiled. Here she said, holding the infant out to Arona. This is for you.

      Caught off guard Arona took the baby.

      I really am having the strangest time, she thought. She had no idea what to do with the baby, or why she was the one to look after it. But she held it carefully.

      Wait! she shouted urgently, as they walked away

      Why have you given me this baby. I can’t look after it. Are you coming back? At least tell me what is the baby’s name?

      They didn’t answer.

      Yikes said Arona.

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