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  • #3423

    Cheung Lok heard the news of the Processor’s death along with the others.

    He’d been parachuted on the island of Abalone some days ago, he started to lose count. Shortly after being dropped by the airplane, with a platoon of a few others that he had lost since, he started to hallucinate elephants falling from the sky, and had wondered for a brief time about the true nature of the island, and the peril he had more or so willingly thrown himself in.

    He had not expected the fancy welcome committee. Some comely ladies in alluring flying gowns leading him towards a promise of a nearby city, only to find himself inside a barren walled city.
    He would have escaped by now, but something in the newly arrived prisoners (or settlers as they were called) caught his attention, when they started to mention Sanso. He couldn’t actually believe his luck, which made them disappear for a while, then after he realized he had to be more of a believer, he found himself sent forward in the waiting line, just next to the others in the so-called waiting room. He’d learnt the woman was named Lisa, and countless other useless information about dog herding, hair conditioning and lazy bowel movement, but little more about Sanso.

    Panic had started to spread among the small city, as huge boulders of earth started to fall from the skies and crack open on the soft land, toppling parts of the walls encircling Gazalbion. The news of the loss of the Processor led to even more confusion.

    Cheung Lok decided it was time to pursue his mission, and extract the information the others had not yet given to him, by force if needed —he was a capable qigong master, who would crush nuts with his butt cheeks as a training, and that was the least of his deadly capacities.
    But apparently, the woman named Lisa and her travelling companions had disappeared already.
    In the midst of the confusion, it was hard to tell where they could have gone.

    That’s when he was reminded of the shifting map, that the map dancer had drawn. He took it out of his front pocket, and unwrapped it cautiously.
    The island’s lines were shifting even more erratically than before, but somehow there was a smaller concentration of activity at a location not far from where he guessed he was.
    One of the rescued elephants would be good to ride out of this mess he thought, looking for the source of the trumpeting noises.

    #3419

    “There!”

    The base of the beanstalk was deeply rooted into the murky waters of the bog, and so big and entangled that it seemed like a wall to the little raft carrying Irina, Greenie and Mr R, which was also acting as a propeller engine. And the parrot Huhu seemed to have tagged along, although he would sometimes pop in and out of reality without notice.

    Thanks to Greenie’s input, they had been able to lift part of the fog, and it seemed the more they looked at the great plant, the more believable and real it became.

    “Madam, if I may, I would advise against climbing that plant; it seems deeply infested by some insects. Extrapolating the size of it by the size of its base, I computed we need probably a few days of climbing and we stand less than 0.9% chance making it to the top without it completely crumbling down.”
    “By Jove, don’t they have elevators invented yet?”

    Mr R was about to make some helpful comment when they heard the big splash.

    A big mouldy thing was struggling on the waters not far from them. After checking it wasn’t one of those dangerous tiger slugs they’d encountered earlier, Irina had Mr R manoeuvre the raft closer to the person in distress.

    “Stop fighting! You’re scratching me, my hair! My face!”

    After hauling the thing over the raft, it became obvious it was not some wild animal, although one part of it was. A mean wet black cat with its claws deep in the other’s hair. The other was a woman, of indiscernible age.

    “Mandrake, that’s enough! You get down there!” she said to the cat. Then turning to the others “Apologies, I forgot my manners. My name is Arona, thank you for rescuing us, the terrain was less… dry and mossy than I expected.”

    Before Irina had time to present herself and the others, a voice overhead and wings flapping sounds started to speak “You should have waited for me, sweet darling muppet Arona!”

    “I guess, that is a bit too late for a sassy code name now…” a wet Mandrake snickered vindictively.

    #3409

    As soon as Lisa and her companions were safely beneath the manhole cover, Pseu shapeshifted back into her usual self.
    “On the way to the ancient temple, I’d like to stop off at the remains of the tile factory ~ oh don’t worry, it’s on the way!” said Pseu, noticing Lisa’s expression. “We don’t even need to make a detour. And” she added, “You will be pleased to know that there are already some breaches to the walls. There has been some earth shifting due to a beanstalk infestation, fortuitously landing on the wall. As soon as we have collected the tiles, we find a breach and make our exit.”
    “What about Sanso?” asked Fanella. “Shouldn’t we try to find him?”
    “Oh, I heard a rumour that he was in the wrong story. Don’t worry about him, he’ll find a way back sooner or later” replied Pseu. “Come on! This will be fun!”

    #3402
    Jib
    Participant

      Around 3:37pm, the three queens heard a loud noise coming from the street that lasted for about five seconds.
      “What was that ?” asked Terry.
      “It sounded like a fucking coughing ass”, said Consuela.
      “It sounded more like someone grinding the pavement with sandpaper”, said Maurana.
      Her two friends looked at her with an air of wtf.
      “You remember my Uncle Bog, the sculptor ?” she continued. “He used to spend hours polishing granite with sandpaper. My father said he was just too lazy to get the job done. Well, it sounded a bit like that. Except louder.”

      Terry ran to the door and looked outside. She wanted to be the first to know.
      “Oh My God! It’s her”, she said, her voice shaking. “She drives a Harley, and I think she just braked with her platform shoes. They’re still smoking.”
      She turned and looked at them wide-eyed.
      “She’s a dwarf queen.”

      #3401

      The tunnel went on forever, forcing them to duck frequently and wriggle around in exiguous places. To make it worse, it wasn’t even fresh under, and the heat carried on as they went further inside. At times, Arona started to have anxiety flashes, as she was reminded of the labyrinthine tunnels of the dragons of old.

      To give herself more heart, she put her efforts in continuing exchanging niceties and other manners of rude elaborate insults with the stranger, who surprisingly was a match to boot.

      “Stop glumping, we’re almost there” he said to her, showing a final passage on a narrow ledge above crystal clear waters.

      She was too exhausted to retort something witty, but took a mental note that he deserved one more of what she had.

      When they emerged, the sun was almost set. The tunnel came out right at the rim of the floating land, and a tight network of ropeways were stretched under the tangled tentacles of the giant beanstalk, which kept the whole city and its neighbourhood afloat. More gymnastics in perspective she thought, but she was prepared for that.

      “Don’t go too close, you’ll fall to your doom…” It was the first time the stranger’s voice hinted at some fear.

      Arona smiled as elegantly as she could, despite being out of breath and red as a purpato. Lifting a limp Mandrake from the ground, she suddenly unwrapped her heavy cloak and lunged into the void below, the wind blowing in her strange mouldy wings.

      “Follow me if you dare!” she shouted to the stranger, while struggling to navigate the downward spiral like an oversized flying squirrel.

      #3400

      If the sabulmantium was to be trusted, the beanstalk was a tangle of many paths, and the main and easiest accesses down its dangling twirly greenish tentacles were all outside of the city walls, in a zone where some lords managed to rule pockets of mass beliefs and a bunch of unattractive mongrel mobsters.

      “Sounds potential adventure material” Mandrake had had the nerve to say when they’d packed.
      “No it isn’t” Arona had said.
      Then with more gusto “NO IT ISN’T” as though to convince all the sleepy tarts of the nymphouse below her rented room.

      More doubts had sunken their claws in her tender heart, and a gulp of whatever astral cup didn’t seem in hindsight a worthy deal for all her troubles. Nonetheless, she was a woman of her word, which was probably why she wasn’t of many. Too much trouble being of all of them, whatever that meant.

      “Honestly Mandrake, keeping you on track is worse than herding… dragons.”
      She would have said sheep, but she wasn’t so rude yet. Mandrake could have taken that too badly, and he would again prove useful to distract the guards of the Southern Post. That’s where she decided to go, as with all the heat, it had to be the one less guarded.

      Indeed, when she arrived, as planned, the gate was badly manned, and sleepy soldiers where reaching for the rare spots of shadow.
      She decided to make a run for it. The soldiers didn’t look very fit. She started to go, thinking about zigzagging between the air bottles littering the plaza, when she felt a tug pulling her back by the cloak, almost sending her flying off her butt.

      FUCK!” she shouted as silently as she could. “You again! I thought I told you not to follow me! Mandrake, attack! Go for the balls!”

      She was in a fury, but Mandrake licked his paw with a disgusted look on his face that meant “Hnhn, not going for that, sweetie. You’re on you own to herd that dragon, my lovely pooh.”

      “Shhht!” the guy said with a bit smile.
      “Don’t shush me, you… ninnyhammer!”
      She didn’t know where the last word came from, but they sure felt good, although not quite rude enough.
      “Oh, the lady is a pirate who knows her insults.” he answered with his cocky smile.
      “Don’t mock me, you mooncalf”
      “You were trying to sneak out, were you?”
      “Why do you care, hobbledehoy?”
      “The guards have aircon chain-mail and armours, see, look at those bottles on their backs… How could you beat them running with your heavy cloak?”
      “Maybe Mr Snollygoster has a better suggestion?”
      “Of course I have, if you care to follow me, Ms Mumpsimus.”

      Arona was almost speechless. Not keen on following any stranger, she asked her guts, and they seemed to have a liking for the handsome fellow. It stirred old remembrance of going with the flow tactics, and when she did actually follow him, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he and Mandrake were already ahead in one of the alleys.

      “Oh, no, let him have the keys to some secret tunnel, I won’t go for another sewer escape!”
      As if her guardien angel has heard her secret prayer, it happened that the stranger had some strange stone key in his bag, opening a secret wall entrance.

      “Oh.” was all she conceded to the stranger.
      Nonplussed he offered her his hand “George” he presented himself still with the same broad smile.
      She took his hand haughtily, and entered the vaulted tunnel, not telling him yet her name, in case she felt like choosing a sexy and mysterious code name. She could trust no one…

      “Traitor” she hissed at Mandrake who was purringly looking at the strangers’ boots.

      #3384
      Jib
      Participant

        The Meteorlogist had forecast a shower on the south-most part of the bog.
        It was such a rare occurrence that a team of magi from Karmalott had been dispatched to study it more closely.
        When they arrived at the viewpoint, the youngest one asked : “Have you ever heard a slug fart in the silence of the bog ?”

        #3379
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          At first, Sadie did not realise she was invisible.

          It was only when she looked in the bathroom mirror she realised something was missing, and even then it took a moment to register. Thinking about it later, it seemed strange to her that something as monumental as being invisible could have gone unnoticed for at least 5 minutes. Yet she had risen that morning with her usual feeling of happiness that everything was right with the world—it was a feeling she had worked hard to cultivate after many hours of selective brainwashing and meditation practice at the Academy.

          After the initial shock, Sadie realised what must have happened. Before bed the evening before, she had finally plucked up courage to do the set of exercises given to her by the Techromancer in 2222. He said it would assist her in her attempts to leave her body and explore other dimensions. Clearly, something had gone very askew.

          ”Right then”, said Sadie, trying to remain calm and rather relieved she could still hear her voice, ”I am going to have to message Linda Pol and explain the situation. I will request to be returned to 2222 so that I can have another chat with that Techno weirdo.”

          ………………………………………….

          Linda Pol was delighted to get Sadie’s timely message on her e-zapper. But she had no intention of returning her to 2222.

          Not just yet, anyway.

          #3377

          “What does it say, Sanso?”
          The four travelers had arrived on the island in patchy swirling fog in a field full of cucumber plants and sundials. The sundial nearest to Sanso had a letter tied to the handle with blue ribbon.
          “If that’s not for me, I don’t know what is,” he snorted, untying the letter as Lisa looked at him in amazement.
          “Really, Sanso, that seems so implausible,” she said.
          “What does it say?”

          bq(Quote).“And we start to hope that if we keep on digging,” Sanso read, “All the way to the core, if we don’t stop, if we perforate the land like a honeycomb, if we make it as flimsy as silk, maybe it will suddenly collapse in on itself. And then, like a tray piled with cups of coffee and cookies that crashes to the floor in a mess of crumbs and glass, it will all mix together.

          The upper part and the lower part will blend. And the rules will change. And we’ll be able to say with a sigh of relief: Here is a piece of sky mixed with a cracked piece of sea; here is Shujaiyeh mixed with Sderot; here is Zeitoun mixed with the Mount of Olives; here is compassion mixed with relief; here is one human being mixed with another. above, and with them build a new land.”

          “Oh my,” said Fanella, “Are you sure we’ve come to the right place?”

          “And an entire people will rise to the surface of the earth,” Sanso continued, “ Pale and faded, blinded by the sun that beats down on the land. And we will stand in silence, waiting for our eyes to adjust to the light. And as we stand there in silence, the fear and anxiety will gradually creep into our heart, that while we were finding refuge in subterranean Gaza, the land above took its own life, was left behind and emptied out.”

          “Gorden Bennet,” said Lisa.

          #3370

          She was stroking the black cat who was complained loudly at the unwanted massage, when the messenger arrived at her door.

          “The King’s Chamberlain would like a word… in private” was all the footman had said.

          “Doesn’t look a slight bit suspicious to you?” the cat told her, shaking and licking the human scent off its fur.
          “Of course it does, don’t come if you don’t want to.” She replied smugly, wrapping her cloak around her despite the sizzling sun and the humidity.

          She followed the messenger, wondering what required such discretion.

          “A weighty matter indeed,” Downson said to her when she arrived at the rendezvous point under a vaulted passageway at a point where the sounds were cancelled out and voices could share deepest secrets in all discretion. “The P’hope has spies in many places… And at least I know of him, so he is not even the most dangerous one, I fear…”

          She was not of many words. Seeing that, the Chamberlain’s continued.
          “There are forces at play that conspire against the King’s rule.”
          She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
          “I know what you think, people should be self-governed, but you can see it another way, people’s leaders are also the expression of their beliefs. But never mind the philosophy… You are uniquely talented for a rescue mission.”
          “What do you mean?”
          “You know have powerful allies… tools,… and dragons too, if the tales are true…”
          She tittered softly. The tales were true, all of it except about the dragons being powerful allies for some rescue quest. Dragons were lazy dreamers, or at least the ones she used to know. She replied with magnanimity “Let’s assume I’m the person you need for this mission… What is my compensation for it… And don’t serve me platitudes about the travel being all that matters. That grumpy cat needs to eat.”
          The cat suddenly turned his eyes into the cutest kitty eyes he could do. It would have melted the heart of the most stone-hearted villain in an instant.
          Well played, Mandrake she winked at the cat telepathically.

          “Well, word has it that you are on a quest to astral, and maybe I could help with that.”
          “Continue…”
          “I could arrange an interview with the Fisher Count. As an entrusted Guardian of the Saint Amber Graastral Stone Cup, he could grant you a drink from it.”
          “Tell me more about whomever I’m supposed to rescue?”

          At the sound of footsteps, he stopped, and pushed her towards a column out of sight.

          “Oh, it’s only a cat” the soldier said, continuing his round unaware of the two.

          As soon as the other had left, Downson resumed his talk in hurried tone and quicker sentences.
          “I have good reasons to believe a young girl with great desire to prove herself was sent many years ago to the Fog Abyss as a rite of passage, but she was tricked and left for dead there. The magi who were supposed to protect her only said they had lost her. But something else happened. Last night, one of them came to me full of guilt. He was visited in a dream by an apparition of the young girl and her guardian angel. Something horrible had happened, but she told him she forgave him and that she was alive and well. You need to bring her back to us, and be discrete about it. Somebody wanted her dead and buried, and will stop at nothing to complete the task if they find out she’s alive.”

          Before the Chamberlain left, he turned back and told her:
          “Better be quick to leave, I shall have all that you require prepared for you. And a word of advise… you can trust no one, Arona.”

          #3369
          Jib
          Participant

            Terry used to arrive early. She was always the first at the bar. She found stability and reassurance in the simple acts of opening the door, turning on the lights, preparing and organizing the tables and the little snacks for the customers.

            That day, after she opened the door, imagining daylight pouring inside, cleansing the darkest corners with the Love of the Universe, she found an envelope on the counter near the cashier. It was sealed with red wax.

            On it was written : “Terry Amar Bubble, from the Management”.
            She felt her heart sank. Her mind went blank, certainly a way for her not to put words on the unthinkable.

            When Cedric arrived later, he found Amar still in a trance, holding an envelop. He’d always been taught not to wake someone who was sleepwalking, but he’d also always had difficulties to not break rules. So he simply did what came first to his mind.

            “Time to Wake up! Bitch!” He said, slapping Amar on the face with a queen’s grace. Cedric felt deeply satisfied with the sound of his slap. He’d been practicing on his own face in front of a mirror when he was younger.

            “I received a letter”, muttered Amar. He handed the envelop over to Consuela.
            “Hey! That’s for me too.” Her pronunciation of the last word hanging around in the air.
            She showed the words to Terry who felt confused because it was now written “Terry Amar Bubble & Consuela Cedric Winnie, from the Management”.
            “Let’s open it”, said Cedric, “I don’t want Maurana’s name on the envelope”. He tittered and broke the seal. It made a popping sound and released a golden powder.

            “Wow, did you see that, Terry ? It’s like fairy dust.”

            The message let them both confused. It simply said : “Your new intendant,Anna Purrna, arrives today. Be ready.”

            #3366

            “I’m rubbish at meditation!” Irina said, opening her eyes after her tenth session in a row.

            Mr R, who’d been waiting for her to come back from her inner trip, was, as usual, quick to dispense soothing encouragements
            “Madam doesn’t give herself enough credit. After all, you have managed to… shall I say… appear this quaint bird.”

            What? Irina looked at the direction Mr R was pointing at. That darn parrot again?!
            Indeed, looking quite puzzled to be on one of the bog’s shrubs, Huhu was tilting, or rather bobbing his heard from left to right in a pendulous and rhythmical fashion, while Greenie was jumping around the shrub eager to catch the colourful beast.

            “Then, that only confirms my suspicions…” she said. She had briefly connected to the bird, just about when she was processing the bleedthrough shotgun attack to bring her thoughts back to clarity. You wish… Sometimes the minds works in endless mysteries; she couldn’t tell why the bird came up in her thoughts, but it was apparently all it needed to appear there.

            #3365
            Jib
            Participant

              The room numbers were framed in a golden disc carved with what looked like zodiac animals and a circle of eights.

              Linda observed the man walking in front of her. As soon as the effects of the lust gas had dissipated, she had been able to focus on something else than his butt. He’d been watching over his shoulder, and it was not to see if she was keeping with his pace. He had been frowning ever since she’d met him, and you could say his whole attitude exuded wariness. Despite her Happiness Training and the meditation practice at night with Sadie, she was beginning to feel some bowel tension. Not good for her digestion.

              He stopped in front of room 57. He knocked, didn’t wait for an answer, instead used his magnetic key to open it, and entered. She followed. He looked one last time on both sides of the corridor, then locked the door.

              They were in a big yellow lounge. Linda addressed a silent prayer to the Good Taste Goddess, sympathizing with the pain She must have endured each time an interior designer had expressed such lack of sobriety. It wasn’t just the color. The furniture seemed to come from Hart to Hart, except the sofa was in a dark yellow leather, and the cushions in a bright magenta.

              “Wait here ‘till I call you”, he said. He left through a door on the right, taking his frown with him.
              Linda heard him talk to someone in the other room, certainly a bedroom. A feminine voice answered him. They argued for some time. The woman was the last to speak. Then the silence.

              Linda hesitated to seat on a jumping armchair with yellow and brown stripes. It was as if every cell of her body, and even the molecules of her clothes were repelled by the choices of the interior designer. She would have sworn her platform shoes were trying to levitate from the carpet.

              The man’s head appeared at the door.
              “Come in, she’s ready to see you.”

              Linda could see emotions struggle on his face.

              “But I warn you”, he said, his fists clenched, “she’s been sick since we have arrived. If my wife is tired, I’ll ask you to leave.”

              “Oh!” Linda said.

              #3362
              Jib
              Participant

                The bellboy, whose name was Kevinlol, as Linda Pol had found out thanks to her e-zapper, had led the Queen of drags to the fifth floor.

                The short trip down with the main elevator had been most interesting. It was designed to look like a richly decorated wooden door opening to the temple of games. The usual mirror on the walls of the cabin had been replaced by a huge screen which showed hosts or hostesses in sumptuous attires welcoming you like Ulysses sirens. Nobody coming out of the elevator, you were fully submerged by promising images of luxury and endless pleasures, endless wins. Looking at the blush on the customers faces and their fidgeting, it seemed to work well.
                The use of Feng Shui seems to have evolved through time, she thought amused, from simple well being philosophy to overt mental and emotional manipulation.

                A particular scent, she had already smelled in Las Vegas, made her realized that there were also chemicals released to create in anticipation that fleeting euphoria people would desperately try to recreate through the excitement of the games. Knowing it, could help you stay centered, but her heartbeat became faster and she felt the compulsion to get more, she realized it was hard to resist the temptation.

                When the doors actually opened to the second floor below earth, more than half the contingent of people got out towards the casino. The sirens were here to drag you down with their smiles. Linda Pol looked at the customers, they were more than willingly sucked into the gaming world of cards and chips, ready to open their pockets and their souls to the conniving croupier.
                Beware of the number you choose, she thought, the bank may not like them.

                A quick look at Kevinlol showed he was totally oblivious to the sirens. His poker face was as smooth and young as ever, his pupils looked normal, and his skin tone hadn’t changed despite the chemicals.
                Robot? She couldn’t help the thought.
                The third floor was restaurants and bars, huge spiraling automatic stairs seemed to connect it directly with the casino, certainly to help people find their way up when they were finished refueling. The dozing effect of digestion was certainly good for business.

                Then they arrived at the fifth floor. She wondered briefly what had happened to the first and fourth floors. But the doors opened to another kind of sirens, her attention shifted completely, more surely than any substance could have done. It was the kind of butts she couldn’t resist, promising firmness and endurance, set into a Imperio Dareme pair of jeans. Linda Pol had always thought that braces had the same effect on a man’s butt as a wonderbra on a woman’s breast. She blushed like a young girl discovering boys were interested in her mythical virginity.

                The butt turned around and, mother f*ck*r, the face was gorgeous. Two days beard on a square jaw, the adventurer.

                #3357

                When Irina, with Mr R and Greenie in tow, approached the spot where the robot had detected activity, she had a lurching sense in her stomach that something strange was about to happen.

                Some buzzing seemed to approach and leave, like a wobbling effect in the air around them, although she could see nothing.
                Mr R, with its caterpillar boots seemed to have to trouble moving ahead, but with a silent sign of her hand, had him slow the pace down and move more silently.

                A cracking sound, and she turned around.
                A woman with a shotgun pointed at her was there, and a guy with handsome features. Caught unaware, Irina froze, and closed her eyes, trying to reach some inner peace before the imminent gunshot.

                “Madam? Are you alright?” came Mr R’s soothing voice. Next to her, Greenie was drawing on her pants, with a concerned look on her face.

                She opened her eyes, confused and relieved. The odd couple of hunters seemed to have vanished. Yet, she could have sworn hearing a gunshot and the blood of a giant mosquito splatter all around.
                She could as well have dreamt all awake, as there were not a single trace around to back her vision.

                “That’s what it is then…” Irina started to realize something. “Mr R, if you will, what about those presence you detected earlier?”
                “Gone Madam, it seemed to have been a glitch.”
                “A glitch, yes…” she said pensively. “Or something else…”

                The things she’d just experience reminded Irina about some of the things she’d read in the past about the Bardo state of the Buddhists. She wasn’t a Buddhist, more a Realist ascendant Romantic. Yet, they made some interesting points about the nature of reality.
                Usually, Irina was the kind of girl who liked to work up to her goals’ achievements. Building the little place for herself, even if mostly the work of Mr R, was a good example. Give her enough time, and she would always find resources to make a better life for herself. But here, it seemed beside the point. It could well be an endless loop.

                She wanted to pierce the veil that surrounded the place, instead of erring in the fog of her own projections. She looked at Greenie and Mr R. She wasn’t sure they were real any longer, even if she had sure grown fond of them. She would see…

                Now, how to get this island to reveal its secrets… As much as she found it boring, prayer or meditation seemed to be the only solution she could come up with for now. Less fond of the first solution, she chose the second and sat cross-legged on a mossy patch of the bog, where the sound of water seemed to have the right qualities.

                #3347
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  Continuing Irina and Mr R the Robot

                  The mission of Irina to thwart the plans of Jonbert being complete, she asks out of the elusive Management scheme, and expects to cash in her promise of an island retirement plan.

                  (As an aside, to those wondering what happened of the bitter Jonbert, after a change of heart, he follows the St Germain hologram through the portal to Peasland’s dimension. It would not be surprising to see him become new Majorburgmester)

                  Irina is sent to a mysterious door, with the strong presentiment that there is a catch and it will send her in a time and place beyond her control.
                  She jumps boldly through the door, not knowing what to expect of the promised island, but preferring that to a life of doing the Management’s biding, and trusting the support of Mr R.

                  After she arrives on the island, with the help of the robot, she starts to improve her living conditions in the bog part of the island, where among strange relics of different timelines, she also finds a young bog mummy she nurses back to life and names Greenie due to her complexion.

                  Meanwhile, we learn bits of Irina’s past, through the quest of a Chinese Corporation from her timeline of 2222, and it is strongly suspected that she stole Mr R, a unique robotic prototype with never seen before capacities.
                  Having crossed Sanso’s path during her previous mission, Sanso becomes the target of the Chinese who hope to retrieve if not information, at least the location of the fugitives thanks to Sanso’s damsel-in-distress-saving fibre, even if fleeting and inconsistent.
                  It proves a reasonable tactic, as Sanso (who was unwittingly tracked due to a sea cucumber tracker he previously ingested) led them to a map dancer in New York named Jeremy.
                  Now, the Chinese leader of the hunt, Cheung Lok (張樂)has retrieved the map of the island, which shows strange exotic properties.

                  The island, named Abalone by some of its inhabitants, shows some mysterious external properties, allowing it to appear on the Earth only at certain times and places (times such as years 111, 222, 333, etc.).

                  Internal properties, yet to be discovered by Irina, and her companions are dream-like in nature. The island landscape is populated according to people’s individual beliefs, but it usually takes a long time for people to realise it (also known as “transition”).
                  People can be coaxed out of their transition time, if they are open enough to allow external influences to show them out of their individual dream.
                  Unusual objects for example can appear and are usually remnants of other’s dreams/beliefs, and are usually difficult to alter.
                  It also cloaks other realities in the same space arrangement which are not compatible to the person’s beliefs.
                  People can thus err believing to be alone for a long time, until positive anticipation leads them to social interactions, leading them usually to the city ruled by King Artie.
                  King Artie, an eternal bachelor, is expected by his subjects to choose a Queen.

                  #3346
                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    Some update on the current plots and maps:

                    Queens Team

                    Our main protagonists seem to have yet to digest their past adventure…

                    In Marseille, 2121, contestants in a Drag Queen’s contest, they had their first mission through Time Sewer mysteriously sending them in Louis XV’s Versailles, and start a quest for mysterious ferrets with keys, helped in their travelling by their ex-judge turned chaperon Sadie, equipped with an all purpose e-zapper, and the batty Sanso always keen on providing the strangest travelling devices.

                    They find one of the keys in the stolen ferret left in the Chapel before they even really start on their quest. Not long after that, they are also robbed of their dance opportunity and show minutes before the attempt on the King’s life, due to the network cancelling their show (and decommissioning the Time Sewer). In a last ditch attempt from Linda Pol to provide the network with a valuable pilot material for the television show, she remembers references of a crystal (sent to her anonymously), and have the Queens propelled in year 2222, Big Island, Hawaii. On arrival, they chill and get sidetracked on a visit to a (you guessed it, mysterious) techromancer.

                    It all appears to be part of the plan to gain life-everlasting by transmuting gold of a (yes, mysterious) cranky old billionaire in kilts named Jonbert who is living in a time-travelling submarine with sentient robots, and who has manipulated events so that the Drag Queen show would place them in possession of a special set of keys that he could then retrieve from them.
                    Unsurprisingly, nothing works for him as planned.

                    Unknown to him, the Queens had only secured one of the keys, the other being unwittingly carried away by maids of Versailles during their balloon escape, with a parrot named Huhu. Manipulated by Irina, a… err… mysterious Russian socialite with a trusty robot Mr R at her side, the parrot steals the key, but faints of exhaustion during the escape in the ocean. The parrot is however rescued by on a ghost galleon and revived by its occupants, who are on their way to a particularly momentous whale gathering in 2222. Sidetracked by a navigation tile displacement, they are in the end successful in beating the odds and arrive too in Hawaii 2222.

                    Equipped in breathing wetsuits, the Queens are sent in the depths of the ocean, where their clumsy and noisy explorations are carefully followed by the octopi and other inhabitants of the underwater world.
                    They get sidetracked and temporarily separated when some go exploring underwater caves.
                    Whales are gathering, and activating the giant crystal, when everyone arrives at the scene. Somehow, Mr R on Irina’s orders manages to provide to an unsuspecting Sadie the second key, which has been expertly tempered with.
                    Sadie, realizing this is the missing key, activates it, and unleashes a chain of events leading to a earth-shattering revelations and a breathtaking video of a St Germain hologram doing karaoke with whales and other gyrating cetaceans drunk on red algae.

                    The network is saved, and they are safely sent back to Marseille, where they are welcomed back by Linda Pol. It earns them a contract, which turns out to be mostly for the decommissioned Time Sewer maintenance.
                    They plan to turn it into a bar, in a re-enactment of their minute of fame, with fat pole-dancers as whales, and St-Germain impersonators singing contests.
                    Not much is heard from Sadie, who had managed to get a raise and less working hours, or of Linda Pol, last seen in Maui island, Hawaii, 2121.

                    #3344

                    Fanella took Sanso’s advice and sobbed heartily. It released vast misty clouds of yellow and green energy that she had been bottling up during the recent traumatic experiences with teleporting. The coloured mist filled the room and poured out of the open window, tinting the sea mist pea green and bile yellow. Fanella was still hiccuping and blowing her nose when Sanso arrived, displacing the yellow green mist with a gust of orange red, and a foul odour.
                    “Excuse me for a moment dear” he gasped, doubled over clutching his abdomen. “One can only cloak a signal for so long before it goes into spasm.”
                    Fanella forgot her crying bout at the sight of Sanso on the floor imitating a sagging cow, but was glad she had a tissue handy to cover her nose with when the room suddenly filled with noxious orange gas, expelled with a trumpeting sound equal to the horns of Gabriel.
                    AHHHHH” he said, smiling broadly. “I think we should get out of here now.”
                    “Yes, let’s!” replied Fanella, trying not to choke.
                    “What a relief! I wasn’t feeling my usual self, trying to digest that signal. Now I feel back to my usual stalwart and trustworthy self.”
                    “Thank Flove for that!” responded Fanella, also feeling very much better, and ready for the next adventure.

                    #3340

                    I’ve been such a fool! Running away like that! Fanella admonished herself, biting her nails and pacing up and down in her room. I wasn’t paying attention! I should have stayed with that funny man, now I feel sure he would have taken me to that island in 2121 if I had just been patient instead of running off like that!
                    Fanella heard a man laughing, and spun around, but there was nobody there. Dear god, I’m hearing things now, she thought.
                    “I’m coming to get you, you daft bint, just hang on and don’t go anywhere!” Sanso told her via telepathic means. “We have a few other calls to make as well, but I will come and fetch you first, even if I have to use every shoehorning trick in the book. Now stop sniveling and I suggest you dress appropriately.”
                    Fanella started sobbing, unsure whether it was relief or apprehension.
                    “There, there,” Sanso said kindly. “You have a good cry, it will do you good.”

                    #3334

                    “Hence the importance of complimenting a child on his first poops” were the concluding words of the lecture by Choanna Doyle, PhD, under a loud burst of applause.

                    Sadie was pleased to have joined the Happiness Institute alumni’s yearly conference and was handling leaflets to the parents who were thinking about enrolling their children.

                    When everyone had left the blue and purple amphitheatre, decorated with pink ribbons and heart-shaped reflective balloons, she went back behind the pulpit to gather her bag, only to be startled by Choanna, who was still here while she was expected in the main hall for her book signing.

                    “Interesting lecture” Sadie said, as a way to sound polite, as the doctor was probably more used to, and expecting over the top fan reactions.

                    “Oh, not that interesting, but thank you for your polite protestations of interest” she said with a soft smile.

                    Sadie couldn’t help but blush, being at a loss for words.

                    “The crap…” Choanna said
                    “What?!” Sadie was confused
                    “I guess, that’s the crap that got you off. It does the same for most people. The poop comment is actually quite pertinent.”
                    “I don’t doubt that.” Sadie didn’t know what to say, but was sure she wasn’t too keen on more poop conversation. When she’d came back to her apartment after being absent for more than a week in linear time during her network assignment, her pet rabbit had playfully hidden bits everywhere and it had taken her days to get rid ot them, and of the smell.

                    But Choanna chose to ignore the cue, and continued “you have to acknowledge this is serious business for the children, it’s their first real creation. This is an important development step for the future adult.”
                    Sadie nodded politely, dying to roll her eyes, but sending waves of hearts instead, to cancel out any potential poop jinx.
                    “Later, you see, it also will help the adult to not throw in the towel at the first failure. Huhu, I like to quote this analogy, it’s like a sculptor who would throw a lump of clay on the ground and immediately complain that it didn’t turn out well at the first try…”

                    Sadie wanted to leave, and butted in a timid “Sorry, but…”

                    “Exactly. People are always sorry, but you see, I did something very interesting today. I have decided to only speak of it if it synched with the events of the day, and you provided me with the synch when I saw you flinch at the bottled water earlier during my presentation. Did you know that blind tests of the best tasting water consistently ranked tap water the tastiest ? Now, sewers and poop now seem relevant all of a sudden…”

                    “I’m getting late for my signing, that was nice talking to you!” she concluded mysteriously before leaving in a huff “But think about it!”

                    What a bizarre yet endearingly odd mad woman this one, bless her heart… was all Sadie could think after the dust had settled in her wake. And that blessed tart conveniently forgot to mention that interesting thing of hers…

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