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  • #359

    New Venice, year 2101

    In the waiting hall, Bart was pacing the floor recklessly. They were having their first baby, but the doctors had hushed him out, because there were some complications…
    All he could do was wait.
    They were one of the first couple to have tested the new program that allowed same-sex couples to procreate without requiring the assistance of a third-party so to speak. In fact, it had been hypothesized to be possible a long time ago already. Well, theoretically… because the most challenging part had been to bring acceptance to the people, as the old beliefs were still alive in a few moribund activist groups. But what,… nature was doing even more exotic things in the realm of creatures…

    Now he was thinking of Oscar, who had chosen to be the bearer of the child —a girl that would be… will be, mentally corrected Bart to himself. Funny thing about genetics was that male-male couples could have either girls or boys, but female-female couples could only have girls. Only because the male “Y” chromosome was carried by men.
    It had been a painstakingly long subject of discussion among scientists and philosophers as to the unbalance it would create, but well, for the time being, it was the chosen design for our human natures.
    As long as new ways of bypassing this restriction had not been invented, better enjoy it than stretching one’s mind around it.

    Looking at the window which showed the stilted structures above the waters, Bart was thinking how it was all an incredible story… What were the probabilities for that to happen?
    Bart couldn’t help but feel grateful for all of his blessings.

    At the same moment, the big breasted nurse appeared at the door crying with a large smile “it’s a healthy girl!”
    Bart burst into the room.

    :fleuron:

    They had already decided how she would be called. Midora, they had agreed.

    When he entered, Oscar Wrick’s young face was tired and sprinkled with beads of perspiration, but he had the happiest look on his face. He was still feeling a bit self-conscious about the changes the pregnancy had generated in his body, but for now he was all absorbed by the little breathing thing resting in his arms.

    After a warm embrace, Bartholomew Jobsworth thought that he should spread the good news to the family, at least to his mother, dear sparkling Indy and Bart’s parents, Eugenia and Cuthbert. He also had felt the presence of his Dad, Bill, during his wait and was deeply thankful for all of their support.

    #323

    — The legend of Mævel — (Part II)

    The young fairy princess, whose secret name had been forgotten, and thus her very existence to whoever had known her, grew up as a beautiful child.
    Mævel she was, and the youngest of the clan too. Her delicate features stood out of the many children that Jorg and Ilga, her human parents already had, and they first saw her as probably their most useless child, being frail and unfit to the works of the woods. But she’d been saved from a sure death, and that had proved to them that the child was some odd gift from the Gods.

    Mævel looking at her brothers and sisters, was constantly reminded of how different she was, as small and fair and fragile as a sparfly’s egg. She helped her mother Ilga as much as she could in the kitchen, preparing meals for the clan. Her parents did not know how she could ever get a husband, as she would never be much of a great cook either.
    So, she was feeling not fulfilled by what she was doing. She loved her parents, and sisters, and brothers, but there was something else that she did not know how to express.
    During the springing and sunny seasons, and even the rainy and icy one, she would go after her works had been done to the little meadow brook, and watch for hours the little rosy trouts dancing in the clear waters.

    And much of her young years passed, and she learned how to cook, how to sew and how to wash clothes and many other tasks that could help the family. She had improved much in her skills and could do wonderful adornments to her sisters and brothers clothes. But noone cared about the adornments, which would be useless for them. But they loved their little sister nonetheless, though they did not understand.
    Soon, all the elder brothers left the house, one by one, and the sisters too. And as Mævel turned twenty one, she was left alone with old Jorg and old Ilga.

    That day, her parents had offered her a pearl white ribbon, for her to tie her hair, and they had thought it would probably please her, as it was as useless a thing as their mind could imagine. And indeed she was delighted by the gift, and to please her parents, she had danced and sung in the night, barefooted on the floorboard, her shiny golden hair swirling around her, as they both loved her to do.

    The next day, Mævel went to the brook to wash some clothes, when she noticed a reddish bluish spark of light coming from the forest nearby. How strange she thought. Perhaps it is only my imagination. But soon, a plaintiff cry came from the same direction, and she was deeply moved by the cry.
    Leaving her clothes to dry up, she went to the forest, knowing she could trust her instincts and that no wild beast would harm her. Calling to see if someone was there, a voice called her, crying “here, here!”

    Behind some fern trees, she was surprised as she saw a wounded blue fox. Was it the fox that had spoken?
    — Yes, that was me, answered the blue fox
    — Oh, a talking fox! You are wounded, aren’t you? asked Mævel
    — Yes, a stupid arrow from a stupid hunter… I can’t extract it, would you help me?
    — Of course, answered Mævel, hold on a second.

    And she leaned forward to draw the arrow from the fox’s leg, holding fast so that it would not hurt the creature. She was just knowing what to do, as if she had done it many times already. Then she drew out her white handkerchief, and bandaged the bleeding wound, tying it tightly with her pearl white ribbon.

    — I must leave now, said the fox, I am greatly indebted to you, young lady
    — Will you tell me your name?
    — I am called Blohmrik. And may I inquire as to your name?
    — I’m called Mævel, but you can call me Mæ
    — Such a lovely name…
    — How come you are a talking fox?
    — I was not always in the form that you see now. This form is due to a curse from the God of the Forgotten, from which I foolishly tried to stole secrets when I was a young god learning magic.
    Ooh, so you are a god? Mævel was amazed
    — Oh, smiled sadly the fox, as you are also, though you probably don’t realize. Gods are not so different than what you think…
    — Oh, really? So there isn’t anything I can do for you, is there?
    — You have already done much for today Mæ
    Mævel was blushing… She dared ask to her new friend
    — And will I see you again?
    — Perhaps sooner than you know.

    #317

    Ibn al’ Gruk was weary.
    That lone grake he had seen flying over the desert settlement this morning had baffled him.
    Usually, such creatures where not migrating at this season, and this one was lone too, which was all the more baffling.

    The old gripshawk had seen many things in his life, but this was surely a presage of importance. In the myths of his people, the big colourful birds were once thriving in the desert oasis, where they were thought to have appeared in the Old Times. But having been extensively hunted down as food for the gripshawk tribes, they had moved away, and the balance had been broken.
    It had prompted lots of the tribes to move apart, in search of food and exchanges, and few of them were now still living in the deserts as they did in the old ways. Many of them, for many generations now, had been creating cities on the coast, and the most flourishing one was Chafik’ An, where a traveling portal had been erected by the humans from Lan’Ork to facilitate exchanges and trades.

    All of that, despite his old age (that his long mop of white angora hair under his chin could account for), Ibn al’ Gruk had only heard all of this through the lineage of his ancestors, but he had seen some of the conflicts that had been created, and he understood that change again was in the air.

    He felt like he could weave a new tale to entertain the settlement tonight, and perhaps give them inkling as to the new changes to come.
    For he felt changes were coming, and that they had been in motion already.

    ***

    The night was clear, and lots of people had gathered around the big bonfire. They all loved these regular meetings where everyone would meet and share food, drinks and over all, gaiety.

    He started to drum low deep sounds and cleared his throat.
    A fit of cough got him by surprise, but it was just a hairball that he spat in the fire, which set ablaze immediately, providing some dramatic effect that hushed everyone down.

    “In a mysterious land far far away,” started Ibn al’ Gruk, with a growling voice…

    ***

    Egypt, 2657 B.C.

    Lekshen had dreamt of Set that night. The god had appeared to him in one of his familiar forms, that of a long snouted animal .
    Lekhsen was wondering why the god had requested such a task for him to do, but he was certainly in the perfect position to accomplish such a task.
    Like Set, Lekhsen came from Upper Egypt, the arid land, and he had managed to get a high-ranking responsibility in fertile Lower Egypt as a scribe thanks to the unification efforts of Pharaoh.

    But Pharaoh’s daughter had just died… right after her 10 year old brother, and Pharaoh’s himself felt He would not live much longer.
    Which would mean that the closest male in the family would be likely to get on the throne of Egypt. And that would be bad news for people like him, as the brothers and brothers-in-law of Pharaoh did not appreciate much His policy.

    In the dream, the strange creature had asked him to hide something with the mummy of Pharaoh’s daughter. It had told him people would forget about how Set was fighting for Ra, the Sun, each night that the bark was traveling on the dangerous underworld waters. They would forget, and would demonise him and his people, and he, Lekhsen would have to write the story, and bury it with the Princess. His status would allow him to do it unscathed.

    “Would people ever remember they once were One?” had asked Lekshen to the god.
    “Only you can tell” had the creature answered.

    #276
    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      Whanga the witch crawled out of the narrow entrance to her cosy cave to survey the day. Perfect witching weather she chuckled gleefully to herself; a tad overcast and cold, which made her job much easier, as even the fairies tended a little to despondency in such weather conditions. She noticed a bruise on her left shin and sighed. Whanga was used to this sort of misunderstanding in her job of course. She enjoyed her work, and was proud of what she did, however humans in particular just didn’t understand the service she provided, and were quick to be vengeful. The dream world left her a little exposed unless she remembered to do her protective spells before sleep, and last night she had just been too weary. Still, she thought cheering up considerably, she had obtained another wand for her collection yesterday, and felt sure this would improve her Witch of Loathing ranking.

      Still feeling a little put out though about the bruise, although this was mainly pride, as she was impervious to pain in the way the humans suffered it, Whanga looked into her glass ball to see what knowledge it would reveal. That little Fairy Princess from the Land of the Far White Cloud was carrying on she saw. Hmmm who was that fat lady with her though? Whanga wondered. She looked very familiar to Whanga, who felt a ripple of uneasiness in her right index finger, a sure sign of danger. This could be trouble ….

      She looked again and saw a young human female, attacking her violently in her dreams. For a moment Whanga toyed with the idea of revenge and cackled happily at the idea of all the mischief she could cause.

      Pull yourself together Whanga, said Whanga, drawing back reluctantly from this delightful daydream. Keep on track. You know it won’t get you any points with the high witch adjudicators, it is the fairies you must focus on.

      #1448
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        http://www.north-of-africa.com/article.php3?id_article=418

        This might be a better link for the comment about the connection between Egypt and Tuaregs :) :weather-clear:

        as well as the Egypt connection :

        At Jabbaren, he found a city with alleys, cross-roads and squares. The walls were covered with hundreds of paintings. Jabbaren is a Tuareg word meaning “giants” and the name refers to the paintings found inside the city, some of which depict human figures that are indeed gigantic in size. One of them measured up to eighteen feet high. Several of these paintings depicted “Martians” and for Lhote, it was the first time he discovered paintings of hundreds of oxen. Jabbaren was soon labelled one of the oldest sites of the Tassili.

        I think the mummy may be 6 meters tall………(Rahim told me that the tombs there were extraordinarily long….and we did have a giant enter the story ….) :yahoo_thinking:

        ~~~~~~~~~

        AND: The Tassili n’Ajjer

        …..the Hoggar Mountains and the Tassili n’Ajjer, one of the most enchanting mountain ranges on this planet……

        There were largely two forms of rock paintings, distinguishable by the location in which they were found. Some were found in rock shelters, such as at Aouanrhet. These sites were where the shaman performed his divination, as the face of a rock was often seen as a doorway to another dimension (another parallel with the paintings in the French caves).

        (this reminds me of Oversoul Seven! # book by Jane Roberts)

        Though one could interpret their location as the work of a nomadic people, Lhote’s team also found several urban settlements.
        He found small concentrations of human activity around Tan-Zoumiatak in the Tin Abou Teka massif. It was a little rocky citadel that dominated the gorge below. The citadel was cut through with a number of narrow alleys. Lhote described the art he found here as: “There were life-size figures painted in red ochre, archers with muscular arms and legs, enormous ‘cats’, many scenes with cattle, war-chariots and so forth. Up to this time I had never seen figures of this sort in the Tassili and the mass of paintings that I managed to view that day quite put into the shade all those I had seen up to then.”

        more:

        http://www.philipcoppens.com/tassili.html

        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        ENORMOUS CATS?????? :yahoo_surprise:

        #298

        The City, year 2257

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

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

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

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

        ~~~

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

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

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

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

        ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        #290
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Well, I’m sorry to have to tell you Becky Pooh, but your script is getting awfully confusing… Al was saying swaying his head in dismay.
          — What?! Becky nearly spluttered her cappuccino on Tina who was munching marshmallows at the cafeteria of the rehearsal room.
          — Yes, you see… Al was once again lost in his thoughts… This Illi is driving me crazy, once she’s here, then she’s elsewhere. At one moment you said she was dead, and I went to great extents to try to clarify…
          — Muddle, interrupted Becky Pooh, Muddle…
          — … the whole thing, Al continued imperturbably, and made clear, or so I thought, that the Illi cat was alive, and the Illi human was indeed dead, but now Tina makes the Illi in the dream of little Chiara the cat again… Could you both explain what happens. I’m completely lost.
          AHAHAH, LOST! cried Becky so insanely, so that all of the others looked at her with eyes wide as saucers.
          — Well, there could be lots of explanations of course, interjected Sam, whose energy was always soothing to incorporate in the midst of heated discussions on the reality play they were all writing.
          — Yes, of course there are! It all makes perfect sense, said Becky.
          — Oh sure, said Tina, except that you don’t really make Illi do anything…
          — Do I?
          — Well, they were near the cave, but you won’t face the scaly stinky dragons anyway, said Al a bit disappointed.
          — Why can’t you imagine them all fluffy and pink if it’s easier for you? said Sam. Like Chinese dragons, why not? A bit dog-headed, wouldn’t that be easier for you?
          — Mmmm. Becky was pondering.

          — And what were your suggestions to explain that insane dream? asked Al to Sam.
          — Mmm, let me see… Perhaps it’s from another timeline. No one has said when that dream has occurred, so it may be before, or after the events happening right now.
          — And for the cat seen by Chiara, said Tina gently, that could just be her seeing the essence of Illi, and seeing other of her personalities…
          — Well, seems to make sense… acknowledged Al and Sam, all turning to Becky to see if she agreed.

          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            This is a thread for referencing terms, creatures and other funny words that may be useful to find easily…
            Don’t hesitate to post your suggestions below, that I will integrate later.

            Races

            • Dragons
            • Gripshawks [ ˈgrip-ˌshȯk ]: feline-like race.
            • Humans
            • Uglings

            Creatures

            • capricorn [ ˈka-pri-ˌkȯrn ]: goat-like fish-tailed aquatic creature
            • fincheon [ ˈfin-chən ]: grey ugly birds, with the particularity of being extremely discreet (almost invisible) with a great sense of orientation, and loyalty to their owner. They are mostly used as message deliverers
            • glukenitch [ ˈglu̇-ˌken-nitch ] (Gripshawk dialect: [ ˈglu̇k-ˌnitch ]) : Slimy wet creatures fearing light, sharing one mind, found in Malvina’s cave. Useful recyclers of garbage, their droppings emit a glowing bluish halo, until they dry up completely and coalesce into a glassy substance.
            • golfindel [ ˈgōl-ˌfin-dəl ] : golden coloured cetacean, found in Golfindely.
            • grake [ ˈgrāk ]: big birds of Golfindely, with colours like mandarin ducks and shaped as geese.
            • indogo [ ˈin-dō-ˌgō ]: blue type of flamingo living in the Eastern Lagunas of Lan’ork.
            • langoat [ ˈlan-ˌgōt ]: daft three-eyed goat-like creature living in the Dragon Head Peninsula, the wool of which has many magical uses (enchanted cloaks, tapestries etc.). Their milk is known to have remarkable healing powers too.
            • marmoth [ ˈmär-məth ]: big toothed hibernating woolliphants
            • saurhse [ ˈsȯr-əs ] : bidepal saurian used as a mount in Asgurdy.
            • schpurniatz [ ˈshpər-ˌniats ] : bat-like creatures, found in dark caves.
            • sparfly [ ˈspär-ˌflī ] : birds usually seen in couples, loving to nest in silgreen trees, and their songs is one of the Treasure of the Worlds.
            • weaszchilla [ ˈwēz-ˌchi-lə ]: little mouse-like ferret

            Magical Artefacts

            • buntifluën [ ˈbənti-ˌflün ] (or [ ˈbau̇nti-ˌflün ]): A magical artefact having in most of its variations the form of a knot-like object, which allows the wearer or bearer to communicate directly with the energy of sentient beings.
            • glubolín [ ˈglü-bȯ-ˌlin ]: A device made from unhatched dragon eggs of the same brood, that allows people to communicate through it.
            • sabulmantium [ ˈsā-bəl-ˌman(t)-shəm ] (or [ ˈsā-bu̇l-ˌman(t)-shəm ]): A device made from rare unhatched dragon egg with crystalline transparent shells, which is filled with sands. May be used as a divination device or as a compass, in any case as an intent focusing device.

            Plants

            • buckberry [ ˈbək-ˌbe-rē ]: fruit of wild buckberries shrubs, in the form of big electric blue-vermilion reddish berries, known to have thwarted all attempts to be grown in gardens.
            • grogonut [ ˈgrō-ˌgə-nət ] tree: a tree indigenous of the warm coasts of Golfindely, known to provide grogonuts, which have a wide range of uses (food, drinks, cups etc.) depending on the maturation level of the nut.
            • silgreen [ ˈsil-ˈgrēn ] tree: a big decorative shrub, blooming sparkling flowers of emerald and silver once every moon. Leafs can have medicinal use too.

            More here later…

            #282

            — The legend of Mævel — (Part I)

            as told by Cpt Bone to young Tomkin

            In the time of the Gods, the King of the Fairies, Aldurion, fell in love with a beautiful mortal named Theÿa.
            He wanted to make her his Queen but only the Elder Gods could bestow the gift of immortality upon mortals.
            So he went to see Ghört, the God of the Airs. Ghört could certainly grant him what he requested, but for that, Theÿa would have to be transformed into an air sprite. Aldurion wouldn’t be able to hold her again. So he declined the offer, and went to see another Elder God.
            Then, he went to see Nærvel, the Goddess of the Waters. But Nærvel could grant him immortality if Theÿa was to be transformed into a water sprite. So Aldurion declined again.
            Then he went to see Agnima, the Goddess of the Flames, and then Selvaniel the God of the Woods, and Margilonia the Goddess of the Earths. But all of their conditions were the same, Theÿa would have to be transformed into an immaterial and immortal elemental fairy. But Aldurion couldn’t bear to have her changed into something else than she was.

            Then, only one of the Elder Gods was left, the one than few of the Immortals dared talk to, and of whom most mortals were afraid, to the point of systematically using the Old Speech respectful form of address (“Shaint”), when referring to him.
            So Aldurion came to see Lejüs, God of the Forgotten.
            Lejüs was greatly pleased to see him. When Aldurion had finished exposing his request, Lejüs took a moment to ponder. Giving immortality was none of his wonts, as he was keeper of the Forgotten. But he was not without compassion, and seeing Aldurion’s plight, he offered to grant his wish at the condition that, not his wife, but their first born child, would become Forgotten.
            Aldurion was so hopeful that all he saw was that the condition seemed so small, based on a future event that perhaps wouldn’t even happen… All he wanted was to have Theÿa as a Queen, and so the deal was made.

            So became Theÿa Queen of the Fairies.

            A few God’s Years later, which meant in human years much more than a few years, Theÿa became pregnant.
            When she announced the news to Aldurion, he was suddenly reminded of the deal he had made with Lejüs, and was quite distraught, as he had not revealed it to Theÿa. But he remained quiet, hoping that Lejüs would have forgotten about the whole story (well, that was forgetting he was Keeper of the Forgotten).
            So Theÿa gave birth to a little baby girl fairy, with golden wavy hair and bright eyes. She, like her mother, had no wings, but there was magic in her. They named her Araoni.

            But Lejüs had not forgotten of course, and came to see the Royal couple to claim the baby. Aldurion pretended that the mother and baby was still very weak, and he would have to come back in a few God’s Days. Lejüs agreed, and left complaisantly.

            Aldurion was at a loss for solutions, but Theÿa was a fairy with lots of ruse, so he decided to reveal it all to her, hoping that she would have a solution.
            Theÿa asked him time to think about this, and told him not to worry.
            Later, she had an idea, quite brilliant she thought. All she had to do was to find another child to give Lejüs.
            So she gave baby Araoni to one of her diligent nurse, the old fairy Gretchÿa, telling her to find a house were a blond new born girl could be exchanged and proceed to the exchange of the babies.

            So Gretchÿa went across the lands of the Worlds, but only in one home she could find a blond baby girl. The new-born baby girl was almost dying, as the parents were a careless couple of peasants, already plagued with many children, and they could not bother with children hesitating to live.
            Gretchÿa was heart-broken when she did the exchange, promising to baby Araoni to get her back soon. The young human baby girl was weak and yet unnamed, and the old fairy nurse knew she would probably not live long, and be claimed by Shaint Lejüs. So all was good.

            When Lejüs came back, he smiled as he saw the baby girl, and left with her without much more words for the Royal couple.
            Lejüs smiled, for when he had taken the young baby, the parents had instantly forgotten about her, and so did everyone having ever known her…

            The human parents, surprised to see the condition of their baby improving beyond all hope, named her Mævel, which meant marvel of Maÿ the month in which she was born.

            #280

            When Rudy the myna had come back crashing on the boat, it all became suddenly a huge uncontrollable chaos.
            The hovering menacing clouds that were looming in front of them were coming closer at a dreadful speed, and even more concerning were the rocks that were appearing everywhere now, that they had more and more trouble to avoid in betwixt the turmoils and eddies.

            So they had finally come to the Great Rift, Bådul was thinking. The back of the legendary water dragon that noone was known to have crossed.

            But Bådul knew better.
            He howled orders to get everybody ready at their posts, and felt reassured when he saw that Austor was maneuvering with dexterity and confidence through the rift.
            He ignored the crazy laugh of Razkÿ, the madman who was now shouting with a manic laughter “We all gonna diiie! AHAHAHAH! DIE! DIE!” Then winking at Bådul and laughing again.

            :fleuron: :fleuron:

            A few months earlier, Northern Åsgurdy

            A huge cloaked figure was riding in the middle of the deserts. The saurhse, a bit small for its rider, was getting tired, but the man wanted to move before the night came. Åsgurdy had a climate which made travels uneasy on land, and only on these bipedal saurians they named saurhses, could Åsgurdians easily travel on the burning hot sands by day. Then, they could gain the high plateaus of rock and ice, where the temperature was kept cold by the high chilly winds. But at night, the deserts would be chilly too, and the cold-blooded creature he was mounting would require a shelter.

            He knew that such a shelter wouldn’t be far away now.
            That region was mostly uncharted as it was fairly remote from all known cities, but that strange man he had met had said he was a traveler who knew were he could find something priceless.
            At that time, Badul had felt he had nothing to lose, and said to himself “when in doubt, go for the experience”.
            He had felt he could trust that man known to him only by a strange name, something like Gheorg.
            There had been nothing boastful about him, and he had been kind to him. He had been the only person in the World he had known to have given him back his dignity as a human being, and even more, to have given him a reason to live.
            He owed him a lot, and perhaps even more as he was now drawing closer to the cave… that same cave which was a mere cross on the torn map he had been drawing hastily before vanishing almost preternaturally, living him a bit of money and that map…

            ~~~

            Roselÿn had felt the urge to move somewhere else. This land didn’t resonate with her energy, and that of Rëgkvist, and of the few eggs the dragon had managed to lay, none had actually been able to hatch.
            It had affected her so much that she had even retreated from her sisters’ usual talks through the glubolíns.
            She needed to move on.

            ~~~

            When he entered the cave, Badul was disappointed. He could feel there had been someone living here quite recently, but it was like the cave was now abandoned. He hoped he could have found more answers, but now it was again like burning sand slipping through his fingers.

            In a fit of rage, he took a boulder as big as him and threw it across the cave with a roar.
            Something was brought down by his huge force further down into the cave and he heard it quite distinctly.

            He tied up the saurhse at the entrance of the cave, and entered it with determination, ducking through the tunnel too narrow for his big baby-faced frame. Then he found something glowing. At first, he thought it was some gold, but what kind of fool had been living here before and had been in such a haste to move as to forget gold?

            It was not gold. It was something like a broken shell. The broken bits were like a jigsaw puzzle and he wished he could make it one, as he was attracted by the strange radiance of the thing.

            :fleuron: :fleuron:

            Austor did not believe his eyes…
            They had crossed the Rift, all three of the ships.
            And it was nothing like the dark void they had nearly expected behind.

            It was an open sea, glistening in the sun, and all hope had come back through them all.

            #80
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              Here you will find the picture pool for the story
              Don’t hesitate to join in, and add your submissions…

              NB please don’t use copyrighted material, unless you hold the rights or the permission to reproduce

              #79
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

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

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

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

                September 12 th, 2007

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

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

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

                September 13 th

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

                Right now, it feels easy and fun.

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

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

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

                September 14 th

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

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

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

                September 15 th

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

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

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

                September 16 th

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

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

                September 18 th

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

                Characters drawn:

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

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

                September 21 st

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

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

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

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

                September 22 nd

                Quintin has been drawing new characters.

                Characters drawn:

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

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

                September 23 rd

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

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

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

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

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

                #263

                It’s been a long time since Írtak last paid a visit to his family. But this time would not come now as the twins were just hatching.

                The hatchtone, a humming inaudible sound that would help the little dragon break the hard shell, had been resonating for almost an hour now, and Írtak had to constantly refocus and pay attention to himself not to be distracted by the unheard sound. The tone was quite intense and as they were both hatching at the same time the hatchtones were enhancing each other.

                Írtak could see the shell resonating with the gluid tones. It was shifting shape slightly, and his eyes were also perceiving a bluid glow around it.

                In the hatchtones were the names of the dragons… Írtak was a bit astonished because those names were quite odd, but he was feeling a strange inner giggle of sort coming from some part of himself.

                He was translating the hatchtones as Heckle and Jeckle.

                “Defunitely!”

                The inner laugh of Malvina was still resonating in his ear when the shell began to crack.

                #257

                When Cuthbert came back to bed after having had his cup of cocoa, India Louise was awake too.

                — I saw him too, she said to her brother.
                — I don’t want to see him again, these books are scarey.
                — It’s intriguing, I want to know more, India Louise said, egging on him.
                — When I close my eyes, I got all these roots and webs crawling, it’s mad… I can’t…
                — He has found a friend to help him cross the Dark Forest to the traveling portal.
                — A friend?
                — Yes, a friend. She’s special.
                — Tell me more…
                — She’s a white unicorn, only him can see her.
                — Wow…
                — She’s named Mirÿnda. She’s glowing white, and he hears her speak in his mind, she shows him the way through the forest…

                :fleuron:

                — Mirÿnda?! A fool in saffron robe gallivanting in the forest with a unicorn now? That’s all you could find?

                Tina was taken aback…

                — Well, I could have used a grizzly bear too, now I think of it… Al answered flippantly.
                — Tsk tsk, replied Tina a bit annoyed. And why not a humpback whale, or an arctic lemming, or even… why, a leopard gecko for that matter?… And who’s that Mÿrinda anyway?

                :fleuron:

                — I don’t know any Amanda, Fiona said to Quintin that night. Don’t really know many of Michaela & Elias’ students. She’s Yann friend, right?

                Quintin had answered distractedly, as he was engrossed by his last painting…

                Later that night, he couldn’t find sleep, as the dragon he was painting was still expanding his web of roots and branches in his mind’s eye. He opened his computer to see that Malika was online.

                She told him something that night, something Quintin found abysmally profound and perplexing about his dragon…

                Dragons can shape shift, into anything they want to. There are several doorways/portals that they use for travel into this dimension. Malika said
                — Yes, said Quintin, this drawing has something to do with these portals initially, but I struggle a bit to represent them…
                Yes, so you can just depict it to be flowing, liquid-like energy in the center, when the portal is active.
                There are some that are being shone to me on the bottom of the ocean floor.
                What is being shown to me, is a dragon with a tail much like a mermaid, and hands with webs, big yellow eyes…

                Wow he had thought, she can really see.

                :fleuron:

                Jadra, guided by Mirÿnda, had been moving quite easily through the Dark Forest. Of course, he wouldn’t have dared touch the holy creature, and so he was walking hesitantly behind, taking care of where his bare feet were touching the ground.

                The Dark Forest was bordering the Marshes of Doom, and at times the limits between the two were almost indiscernible. It was said that every foul, err… fool… damn,…

                — Will you stop being so buffoonish! raved Tina again.
                — Perhaps I should let someone else continue then? said Albert.
                — Well, that’s entertaining, replied Becky mechanically.
                — OK. I’ll jump in, said Samuel, with a wide grin.

                It was said that every full moon, the Mighty Shrimp would come from the shores of the Southern Seas and haunt the Marshes in search for souls to be turned into krill, so that he could be the WALRUS (Wrathful Almighty Lord Ruler of Undersea Souls).

                Well, at least, that’s what Jadra had heard in his youth, when you tend to believe everything… So he was weary of the hiki-hiki sounds in the night that might have been the dreaded call of the Mighty Shrimp.

                :fleuron:

                Quintin was having a strange dream. He was a huge whale, along with another one he knew was Yann, swimming powerfully in the vast ocean, passing by strange creatures that could have been mermaids or improbable fishes, when his gaze was attracted by a stream of glittering particles of light.

                The lights were enticing, he would have said even “mouth-watering”, had he not had the baleens full of water already…

                :fleuron:

                Salome was moving through layers of consciousness, something humans focused in physical dimensions would have found difficult to grasp, as it was nothing that could be easily conceptualized. She was, as best as she could put, like a huge cloud of lightness coalescing into a form, when she decided to project her aspect.

                Taking form into a dimension required no effort in actuality, the consensus reality created by all the essences focused into the reality making quite a strong pull. She only needed to move her attention to what she wanted to manifest. Altering her reality slowly around her, to move closer to the desired effect.

                She was not only traveling through time and space, but also through multitudinous layers of dimensions unnoticed to many humans —in fact, she was not really moving, but that was a convenient way of telling things for humans…

                She said “humans”, because she was fond of this particular dimension, where she’d had lots of experiences.

                When moving through the dimensions, it had her projected focus of attention constantly and naturally adapt its form to the psychological environment.

                Here, she had just moved through a honey-drops dimension, where focuses were drops of golden honey-like substance, and as she moved through it, her own aspect had changed to that of a sand-glass shaped drop of honey.

                This was great fun for her to see the ease with which she could focus into this infinite variety of adventures, but for now, her pull was to some more complex physical dimensions.

                She started to move again, de-focusing, past the lazy honey drops.

                The honey drops were now shape-shifting to a whole immense field of snake-like strings of light, and they all started to converge to a direction. She knew the feeling. She followed the strong pull.

                #236
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  Arona hummed happily to herself. She felt so light without the cape and the tunnel was bathed in the gentle light of many glukenitches. Mandrake the cat followed along too, much to Arona’s delight, although she was a little hesitant to tell this to the grumpy cat

                  Magic magic magic magic she hummed to herself

                  Arona almost skipped along the tunnel, and, so wrapped up was she in thoughts of magic, that she tripped and fell heavily, hurting her left hand as she put it out to save herself

                  Ouch, hells bells and warty wizards, she muttered, for it did hurt quite considerably… and then she had some scarey thoughts. She looked around and realised that really, the fact of the matter was, undeniably, that she was still lost in the darkish tunnel.

                  What if I don’t believe in magic? and her happy mood plummeted.

                  Oh fuch, she swore, and sat down on the cave floor. FUCH FUCH FUCH FUCH she shouted as loud as she possibly could, and in fact hurt her throat a little in the process and quite possibly the sensitive ears of many glukenitches.

                  This blessed cave is doing my head in. I want to see the sunshine, or the rain, no matter, I don’t care what the weather is doing I JUST WANT TO BE OUT OF THIS CAVE.

                  Ooops that was rather loud

                  After coaxing Mandrake back, as he had retreated quite some distance at her outburst, she sat down and put her head in her hands and tried to think. Did she believe in magic? Well of course she had no choice. Life without magic was inconceivable to her.

                  She felt a familiar tiredness sweep over her as she struggled to work it out. Perhaps I will just have a small sleep before I continue, and she curled up on the ground, wishing she had her heavy black cape to wrap around her.

                  As she gave up the struggle and let sleep come she heard some soft words

                  It’s easy Arona … magic is easy … it is the thread linking all to all

                  ************

                  A short while later she woke from her sleep, feeling refreshed and ready to continue.

                  #231

                  HAHAHA! it is your first step now. Let me just remind you that you need not play MY game, the game is yours, ever.” said Georges.

                  Dory was feeling a bit confused now. What was he talking about, what game? And first step to what? She couldn’t hold to the anger nor the irritation; all of that was feeling not real or not here, or not there for all she knew.

                  “The direction you follow is your choice, and where I come from is not relevant to this conversation. You may say I come from yourself :) and indeed you called me and I wanted company. Do you want more coleslaw?”

                  Without waiting for her answer he refilled her plate with the tasty food.

                  All those smells,… she could feel so many different things, things that appeared not to be here. A movement caught her attention in her periphery. As she turned her gaze whatever was there had vanished. And this humming, it was like music, but not very clear… if she could just focus more on it, yes like that, she was feeling sooo calm and she began laughing.

                  “Hahahah… haha. Did you drug the coleslaw?” She asked, trying to appear angry and unhappy, but all she could do was smile and laugh.

                  The images around her were shape-shifting, there were many colors, some of them she didn’t know could be possible, the walls were melting of sort and becoming transparent, or just fluid maybe…

                  “Well you see how it’s easy to relax. Let’s see where you want to go now my dear Rafaela”, he said winking.

                  And everything turned into a great maelström but she felt secure and could feel his presence reassuring, and there were all those other faces and places, some felt very familiar, had she ever been there before?

                  #227

                  Jibberacky is…

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

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

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

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

                  _

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

                  _

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

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

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

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

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

                  #222

                  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 ?”

                  #215

                  After Arona said she was hungry, the energy of Malvina disappeared, and once again Arona found herself alone in the cave.

                  She found this quite irritating. They are really bit rude around here, she muttered.

                  Arona sat down on the floor of the cave and considered her options. She was tired of the cave and could barely remember what had drawn her here in the first place.

                  It had been the music of course. She had wanted to find the source of the music. However for the most part she decided her experience had been rather disappointing.

                  (Arona was never at her best when hungry and this was causing her to quickly forget some of the wonderful experiences with the music and the paintings, and take a rather negative view of events.)

                  All I have done is wander around dark passageways really.

                  And now, to top it all off, apparently things are shifting. In the name of heaven what does that mean?

                  AND if one more person tells me to use my magic I will probably scream or something!

                  Perish the thought, came a grumpy voice from a particularly dark corner. Your moaning is quite sufficiently bad enough.

                  And Mandrake the cat emerged from the shadows and made himself comfortable on Arona’s lap. This is great, much more comfortable than the ground he purred.

                  Oh cute, said Arona, a talking cat.

                  Cute yourself, responded Mandrake, love your cape by the way.

                  (Mandrake was prone to sarcasm, considering it a perfectly valid form of humour.)

                  Arona stroked Mandrake’s soft black coat and tried her hardest to work out what to do. It was all feeling a bit bleak at the moment, the ever changing cave, the half light, the heat and humidity… and especially her hunger.

                  Mandrake sighed in an impatiently eggsagerated sort of a way.

                  Heavens to murgatroyd¹, how can I relax with your incessant thinking? Okay so here’s an easy one for you: what’s the most important thing about magic?

                  All of a sudden Arona felt a flash of lightness and a sense of new energy moving within her.

                  of course! She exclaimed delightedly, hugging the less than enthusiastic Mandrake, you have to believe in it!

                  [¹] Note from the editor: Mandrake being a very educate cat from noble ancestors, some of its speech may be difficult to grasp for the average reader, which was certainly not the case for the astute Arona.
                  Anyway, here is some complement on that ‘Murgatroyd’ .

                  #207
                  F LoveF Love
                  Participant

                    Fiona had just received another rambling note from Dory, and was feeling rather bemused and perplexed.

                    Dory’s notes seemed to make less and less sense. The worst thing was that lately Quintin and Yann appeared to be following her lead. Of course she could be mistaken, the difference in language could be confusing things .. and there was all the merging they had been doing lately which meant they usually spoke in riddles. Fiona spoke very little French, just a few handy phrases such as “hello” and “butt”.

                    But as for Dory

                    Fiona was a kindhearted person and tolerant of others. But these tales Dory was spinning appeared to be increasingly bizarre and nonsensical. Endless beginnings which never seemed to lead anywhere.

                    Am I being too rational? Fiona wondered, always humbly willing to accept her own shortcomings, or “dark corners” as Quintin liked to describe them.

                    One day, after a particularly outrageous note from Dory about an orgy in her kitchen with 57 Italians she had to cook for, Fiona felt compelled to gently and tactfully question Dory.

                    You are just out for revenge, Dory had hissed at her. It’s just a dream, I think … hmmmmm or am I a dream … or is it all a dream ….. I will go and ask Archie! and off she had dashed in a flurry of colourful shawls.

                    Bugger this, thought Fiona. Revenge had been the last thing on her sweet natured mind. With no more housework left to complete, she decided to go for a walk to the nearby cafe to take her mind from all this madness.

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