Search Results for 'forehead'

”One drink and be quick about it” said Sadie sternly, “for we have much to do if we are to retrieve the ferret and get out of here without being noticed by the authorities.” She made an imperative gesture with her hand to emphasise her words, but the girls had already disappeared. Sadie sighed and pressed her hand to her forehead—she was going to have to be constantly vigilant of her thoughts if this mission was to be a success.

Her reverie was interrupted by a notification on her e-zapper. A message from Linda Paul!

Tomorrow, Jan 5th 1757, there is going to be an attempted assassination of the King. In the ensuing chaos you will have a chance to recover the treasure.

Lilac stealthily inched closer, curious to see how the Forehead shaved, and what it was that he felt the need to shave, notwithstanding the apparent difficulties. Unfortunately the Forehead was hidden behind the Pate, which was gleaming in the moonlight, but otherwise quite expressionless, giving away nothing.

There’s something, er, fishy, about this here dead cow, Sanso surmised. He was still a little fuzzy after his peregrinations in the Dense Dimension. Suddenly he slapped his forehead and exclaimed D’Oh! This dead cow is no accident! He shook his head, as if trying to shake the cobwebs loose. The effects of the brocolli hadn’t worn off completely yet. I can’t beleive I chose the Brocolli from the ‘You Fool’ Jar instead of the ‘Thank You’ Jar. I should have realized, Sanso was still shaking his head, what the ramifications would be of choosing discounting instead of appreciation. D’OH! he exclaimed again. Really, I had no idea how far reaching and all encompassing the effects would be of that Brocolli choice. I suppose it’s no accident the vegetable in question was brocolli, either, with all those probability branches and probable florets.

Right then Sanso, Old Bean, pull yourself together, he told himself firmly. This here dead cow is a sign. He approached the dead cow slowly, sniffing the ether, in a manner of speaking, for clues. He recalled the Dead Cow Cult
from another elsewhen, and their affiliation with the Arduino
Time Travelling Internet Server, and wondered if there might be a connection.

The Fool Fog of Discounting, caused by the brocolli Choice, in Sanso’s head was starting to clear, and he began to access information. The Cult of the Dead Cow had merged with the Arduino Enterprise at some point, creating an offshoot called the Pirates Association of Time Hackers, otherwise known as P.A.T.H. They had been recruiting members from many times and places, and as usual, had attracted large numbers of teenagers.

One teenager in particular appeared to stand out in Sanso’s mind, a peculiar young man who went by the alias “Holy Cow”.

Oh My God! Sanso slapped his forehead again. (I really must get these AHA moments under control, he said to himself, rubbing his bruised head) It can’t be! Yes, it is! It’s Yikesy!

Ann slapped her forehead when she realized her mistake, notwithstanding that there were no ‘mistakes’ as such.

The story is for the writer that writes it, not the reader.

What the repercussions of that were for the future of publishing, Ann wasn’t quite sure.

“Oh, I can answer that for you, dear” Lavender responded. “On my recent trip to the future I went to the Pick Your Own Pages book store. There’s a wonderful Pick ‘N’ Mix section, and a Lucky Dip. You can pick various quantities, such as chapters, pages, paragraphs or sentences, and you arrange them yourself.”

“What a wonderful idea!” Ann replied.

“Oh, the idea was an old one, very old!” Lavvie explained. “People were doing it all along, though they didn’t realize it. The idea of being spoon fed an entire story went out with the Ark. It was the advent of random quote generators that started the ball rolling.”

Ann beatled off to check the random quote for the day….

“Arona! Sanso! Oh, how wonderful to see you guys again! Come and meet Lavender and Walter, we’re discussing continuity….”

Sheila, hang on a moment will you? There is something I need to tell you. Actually there is no easy way to say this so I am just going to have to blurt it out.

Go on then … said Jane carefully, thinking how pale and anxious Mark looked, and wondering if she should tell him her name was not Sheila. She resisted a sudden impulse to reach out and adjust the toupee which had fallen slightly forward on his forehead.

Although, as you will be aware, I am visibly attracted to you .. I am leaving tomorrow on a mission across the ditch to Noo Zooland.

Noo Zooland! Jane gasped. That godforsaken place!

Yes, unfortunately so. I have been asked to investigate an outbreak of the flu on a peanut farm. It is dangerous work Sheila, amongst the savages of Noo Zooland, and I don’t know how long I will be away for. The quarantine regulations are ridiculously strict. What else can you expect of a little backwater like Noo Zooland eh?

So this is goodbye? her voice trembled.

I am afraid so. At least for now. But I will never forget you, Sheila.

Becky started to hear voices babbling, through the swirling colours and fog. She groaned as she became aware of her head ache, and raised her hand feebly to her forehead.

Ah, she’s coming round! she mentally translated the foreign babble that was drifting into her consciousness. Becky’s hand slipped down towards her belly, which was hurting almost as much as her head.

What the f…! she whispered in amazement, as she struggled to sit up.

The babble of voices twittered at her to be still, and bony fingers pushed at her shoulders, encouraging her to lie still.

I’m not fat anymore, Becky whispered incredulously, and began to smile.

A well meaning voice was comforting her, telling her not to worry, that the three babies were fine, though tiny, and had been rushed to a special facility in the mountains to be placed in an incubator.

Oh, cool, said Becky vaguely, not really listening. She stroked her smooth flat belly and sighed happily, and drifted off once more into the delightful oblivion of unconsciousness.

Crisp fluttered to the floor as Becky drifted off to sleep. She was having an odd dream, in which she was hugging Sam. I’m so glad you don’t drink Sam, she said, emotionally, in the dream.

Well, I do have an occasional pint down at the Duck and Firken, you know, he replied.

You know what I mean, Sam. All those years with Sean, hoping it would all work out…her dream voice trailed off sadly….

Hey Becky, it wasn’t a waste! Look at all the lovely children you had!

Becky felt her dream self smile ruefully. Well, it hasn’t exactly been a picnic either, you know….

She woke up sweating and confused. Good grief, all WHAT children! What a dreadful nightmare!

She was wiping the beads of sweat from her forehead when Sean popped his head round the door.

I’m popping out for a beer, Becky, won’t be long.

Holy Moly, Becky whispered under her breath.

Tracy is making the most of not being able to post and asked me to post some synchs for her:

Tracy: thanks for posting the comments!
Francie: okay, i will do that other one
Francie: you love it eh?
Francie: it appeals your head counterpart side
Tracy: lobe what?
Francie: making me post for you
Tracy: hahahaha yeah its like having staff

Francie: i took george to vet today for check up
Tracy: hows he doing?
Francie: well while we were all discussing vaccinations, he nosed open the door and went careering around the vets
Tracy: hahahaha
Francie: down to visit all the sick dogs. Like a crazy thing
Tracy: oh how funny. Oh I bet they all loved it
Francie: oh yes hilarious
Tracy: I kept thinking today that any distraction, was taking Bills mind off the pain
Francie: yeah
Tracy: and so was George!
Francie: ahahahahha
Tracy: ahhaah I synced with george!
Francie: hahahah!
Francie: yes
Tracy: would you write that in syncs under my name please
Francie: okay

Francie: what does a jewel on the forehead signify?
Tracy: A flock of coots is known in the US as a cover
Tracy: um, not sure, like an Indian thing?
Tracy: why?
Francie: some of my frogs had jewels on their foreheads, and then i watched a movie with jewels on foreheads
Tracy: is it a Sikh thing? Or is it the chakra
Francie: don’t know
Tracy: which chakra is that or is it the third eye… What colour jewels?
Francie: tarotteachings blogspot
Tracy: ralphmag
Francie: there is another 8 synch in that tarot one
Francie: oh wow, a magazine synch Tracy
Tracy: she understands, with a profound and inherent wisdom, that the universe is a magical and abundant place.
Tracy: thats cool huh… What?
Francie: the link you gave me: read the last paragraph
Tracy: I was thinking about the magazine yesterday… WOW F, the last paragraph!
Francie: yes!
Tracy: would you post it on syncs for me?
Francie: yes
Tracy: please
Tracy: I missed that bit, I just noticed the ittiel
Tracy: tille
Tracy: title

Franiel offered his congratulations to Aum Geog along with the others. He did not mind that he was not himself chosen to succeed Hrih Chokyam, and neither would he have expected it, however he felt the physical absence of the Old One keenly. His powerful presence had cloaked the whole monastery in a sweet warmth, and even though Franiel had only been there a short while, he had felt close to the Old One. Of course his spirit will always be here, but the same time Franiel knew change was inevitable, and he was unsure of his own place within the boundaries of the monastery. Happiness and fun were valued highly by Franiel, they were more important to him than all the spiritual ideals others would speak of, and he had felt a slight greyness of late. He found humility difficult and did not enjoy following rules, neither did he enjoy listening to the wisdom of the other brothers. At times his sense of humor would cause them to frown upon him. He knew the Old One had understood this, but now he was gone he wondered how he would fit. He pulled out the note Jog Lam had given him from Hrih Chokyam, Listen to your heart…. it began. What was his heart telling him?

Brother Franiel!. He heard the voice of Aba Tane calling him. The Brothers were shortly meeting to hear Aum Geog speak, presumably to announce the new direction for the monastery.

Brother Franiel, Aum Geog has requested you take this chalice to the Village, so the silversmith may engrave it with these words. Aba Tane handed Franiel a cup, and a piece of paper with a seal. He requested you should go right away and that you should remember that the cup is precious. He requested also that I sprinkle you with some Holy Water to safeguard you on your way. In customary manner, Franiel knelt and Aba Tane sprinkled the precious bottled water on his forehead. Love and Light, Brother Franiel. Blessings for your journey.

It was several days walking down the mountain to the Village. To be honest though, it was a task Franiel welcomed, perhaps to be away from the monastery at this time would give him a chance to better hear what was in his heart, and to miss the meeting was no loss for him.

He wondered at the haste, and at what the words might be, however it was not his business to question the directives of Aum Geog. He remembered also his dream of the silver goblet. Many things to ponder, he mused, a feeling of excitement growing within him.

Sam kissed Tina… a French kiss as usual. She had always love his way of kissing and as with the shift this kind mark of affection wasn’t much considered as belonging to bonded couples, Sam who loved kissing was really having a lot of fun.

He didn’t do that with everybody though, it had to come harmoniously, and with Tina it was always sparklingly funnily attractive.

She told him she loved the little pooh on his neck, and as he was explaining her it was a just burnt phoenix, the bird just rebirthed himself again in an atomic blow… the effects on Sam’s skin was a bit weird, flowing shadows and shades of greys and greens making him appear like a for a few seconds.

Sean arrived in a bang at that moment, and Sam kissed him on the forehead… no mischievous kiss with him, his energy was directed subtly to another member of the T’mmm.

Adding his own playful energy to this Fairy Nuffy event, he went to talk with Tina and Al about Tina’s new nails cut.

The Assassin was already in the room when Baul came in… Baul wasn’t sure if he would have prefered him not to be here so he could himself gather his mind. But he was well used to camouflage his feelings and inner struggle and his face was quite smiling, as usual.

Looking at the Assassin’s face, Baul was feeling very uncomfortable, he almost winced… the bluish glow of the dagger tatoo on the forehead of the man was quite disgusting. Baul kept smiling though, he wouldn’t dare show his own weakness to anyone, especially an Assassin. His eyes were piercing his soul, if Baul had believed in such thing he would have run away, but he didn’t believe in anything except himself and the power of money.

As the Assassin was never talking first, Baul presented his offer putting the object he had brought on the table.

— Open the chest. You’ll find your paiement inside.

Ar’Am Khra was waiting, still gazing sharply at Baul, making him feel even more uncomfortable.
The Assassin was quite impressed with how the man Baul could master his own reactions, and though he was quite intrigued by what his client had brought, he wanted to play for a few moments. With a very slight movement of his eyebrows, so slight one wouldn’t have notice, he managed to add an irritation in his look. He saw the movement of fear in his client’s face, but still it was so subtle he could have imagined it.

Baul pushed the chest toward the Assassin, a bit nervous, but he could …. a sudden thought came to his mind, wandering like a Strokgnutch in a henhouse. He swallowed imperceptibly… Had someone already put a contract on his head? He managed a smile as he was opening the chest for the Assassin.

This Baul was quite impressive. Ar’Am Khra had known what he was thinking as though he could read his mind.

He lowered his eyes to look at what was in the chest. He really desired being surprised by his clients, and this one had never failed to surprise him…

Once again…

Baul was surprised as the Assassin wasn’t showing any hint of the slightest emotion at all… Would he show anything else than disdain even once!?

— A glubolín

The rain was pouring cabbages 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 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.

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.

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.

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

Dory was in fact only seeing one parrot: it was a bit exhausted and its head seemed like it had a toothache… but it had no tooth.

“Hum.”

Dory was startled by the masculine voice. She hadn’t heard any sound from someone coming or felt any breeze indicating movement. As she turned her look at the man, she was even more startled by his face. A young face with bright amber eyes, and some funny tattoo on his forehead. She was unable to find any association with the shape which seemed to change in every moment. She was a bit hypnotized by it’s multi-dimensionality.

“hum” the man said again.

“Are you looking for something here?”

His voice was deep and warm, very reassuring and she wasn’t feeling alone now, the tunnel was indeed feeling very crowded, the presence of the man was awesome.

“Well it seems I’ve found you…” she said.

“Enchanté. My name is Georges.” he said, a smile illuminating his face.

“I just came out of the Faded Cabbage, a very nice tavern in Dalmot… I felt some dizzy portal appearing and felt the impulse to go through it, and here I am.”

It was all nonsense to Dory, except the cabbage part that reminded her of the coleslaw. Her belly was growling.

“Actually I’m quite hungry, and I’ve nothing to eat…”

“Oh” he said. He just looked in her eyes, making her feel more dizzy or blurred, she was feeling so out of her reality.

The smell of coleslaw was filling the tunnel…

“I have some… what do you call that ?”