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  • — 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, ... · ID #323 (continued)
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  • #1004
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Becky was undecided. Add to the last entry? Or start another? Grinning wickedly, she started another.

      Her second impulse selection was a slightly late coincidence, but a coincidence notwithstanding. It was about Sand Dragons . A Few days previously Becky had been to an auction. She bid for and won a first edition copy of Wisp magazine; it had cost her an arm and a leg, but she was delighted with her purchase. It would increase in value, and was a delight to read some of the first published articles of the many authors, poets, artists and photographers who would later become famous. The article about sand sculptures had reminded her of the T.R.A.P. day out.

      Well, how about that! exclaimed Becky, reading the rest of the comment. Wish House is one of my most favourites, and I chose it by accident!

      She read:

      “Illi used to play a game with Cranky (as she affectionately called nanny Chraddock) in the long months while her parents were away, called Wish House. Every room in the sprawling Elizabethan house was a different time and place, and the moment they entered the room they imagined themselves to be different people, in other times. Petunia Duster the maid loved to join in too; consequently not alot of housework got done, but with Gus and Flora always off travelling, nobody minded. Playing was, after all, so much more important than dust. In fact, a thick layer of dust made the rooms all the more mysterious and magical.”

      Becky ran her finger along the dust on her desk and smiled.

      OH! Becky jumped. I almost forgot to make a note of the number, now what was it? she mused, scratching her head. I think it was 171 :notepad:

      Becky wondered whether or not to start another entry. Intuitively, she chose not to. Her third random choice was another synchronicity with the first edition of Wisp: it was about pyramids in Spain. The first edition of Wisp magazine was particularly valuable as it was the first mention in print of the discovery of the Iberian pyramid culture.

      Number 835 she noted :notepad:

      #1003
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Well, what a coincidence! exclaimed Becky. Becky was choosing her I Ching story comments, not altogether sure (not in the least sure, really) how it worked, but enjoying the opportunity to do a few random impulse searches. She had been reading the blog archives of Stilly from the early part of the century, all about cactus, beetles, and the investigation into the cochineal trade, when she suddenly remembered the Reality Play deadline. Anticipating buckling down to some serious writing, Becky was delighted to find the I Ching game, and made her first random choice.

        Well, what a coincidence! Becky repeated. It’s all about beetles!

        Becky made a note of the number: 638. :notepad:

        #989
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Oh, he thought, at least Tina’s coming another 8 closer (then immediately thinking he was now changing it to another start of a cycle — another convenient way of saying he’d just blown this new magic occurrence of “858”, but wasn’t it how changes were supposed to be made?).

          Now, what the cloud had in store for him, he wondered…

          elikozoe sync closer especially dear ask soon suddenly began known difficult step”

          OK, Al thought, now that’s interesting… this was no coincidence that “Elikozoe”, his nom de plume (he was born Albert (Al) Yokoso, from a father of Japanese descent and a mother of Cajun descent) would appear like that out of the blue…
          As for “dear”, who else than “Dear” Tina :agreed:

          #986

          Oh well, I think I’ve just made it… Wonderful technology ;))

          #985

          The door of the garage opened with a creaking sound, and Madame Chesterhope sped up into the gritty alley.
          In that dimension where she had hidden her command base, people were a bit sloppy about roads and tarmac, so she had designed a little modification on her machines to be able to levitate in some of the less practical areas; but she had to admit,… she loved the vibrations and bumps that the motorbike created with the friction of the ground surface.
          She started to giggle, all enthusiastic about the speed and the wind in her hair, that she ignored the road sign indicating that the road was flooded some miles ahead. The rain had been pouring cabbages all past hexades, so much so that her leather suit was in all honesty the best thing she could have worn, not to mention the fact of course, that it was making her totally sexy.
          Two peasants were coming her way, looking at her with wild eyes like they had just seen something otherworldly. Ahahah she laughed, the fools would soon have forgotten everything about it (another handy and sly magical modification she nodded to herself). Looking in her rear mirror, she could still see them wiggle their hands in a frenzy… What the fl…!

          :fleuron:

          On the road, the two peasants wondered what in the name of Shaint Lejus was that rider… But worse, it was heading straight to the pool that the swollen river had made recently, outpouring on fields and little sniggly and thorny paths, like this one. Making desperate signs to be seen and warn it, they watched in horror the black podgy thing with flabby flapping schpurniatz arms sink straight to the bottom of the pool.

          :fleuron:

          The landing was a bit bumpy, but she found her balance quickly. Those transdimensional puddles were a bit rough to get accustomed to, but once you knew how to manipulate it, you couldn’t forget it.
          Now, all she needed to got to the location she was heading to was to hop through a few more transdimensional puddles.
          Actually, all sorts of puddles could do the job, water puddles, even oil puddles… or run-over poodle puddles for that matter. She preferred water ones, for the quality of water was very fluid, and allowed for easier defocusing. Lately she had tried transdimensional exhaust fumes clouddles, but that was a bit disorienting more than helping.
          As far as she could tell, this first one had been projecting her to a dimension in between Earth and the Duane. Incorporating vibrational qualities of the two, with a little more rigidity though. The machine needed a little time to stabilize and get prepared for the next transdimensional jump.
          As far as she could tell, she was in a place that was not unlike her birthplace, in the countryside of England. There were occasionally some giveaways that she still wasn’t quite there yet, like an erratic flying schpurniatz, but she was close now.
          A few meters in front of her, she could see a lovely puddle that could do for the next jump. A bit small for her… well, motorbike, what were you thinking… but that would probably do it. She took another breath, then pushed the TDPP (Trans-Dimensional Puddle Propeller) button.

          :fleuron:

          Flof-flof-flof-flof…
          Bugger, bugger…. What the bloody heck!

          Straw was flying all over her hair, and obfuscating her vision… Darn last puddle had to much mud in it, and her concentration went off for a split second, heading her towards a field of barley.
          Turning round and round for a moment in complete disorientation, she finally pushed the levitation button to take a little altitude.
          Oh, now,… at least she could tell she was in England, because she knew that place.
          How perfect! She could now just move into the dimension to the Pacific island. The GPS included in the modern expensive motorbike had been bipping as soon as it had found again the satellites, and it was now pointing the direction.
          Giggling again, she pushed a new button and disappeared into the sky in a supersonic puff of smoke.

          :fleuron:

          a few days later, Chestershire, UK

          AFP - 2008-07-21 - An new amazing design has been reported by eye-witnesses
          on a crop of barley of a local farmer along with reports of strange booming sounds
          and orbs of light. A sight to behold, the delicate intricacy of these interwoven
          patterns is believed by many to be the work of the Crop-circle Makers, some
          alien intelligence desiring to communicate with us. The theme of this crop-circle
          is thought to be a variation on planet Venus cycles, and would be highlighting
          the number of cycles lefts until the notorious end-date of Mayan calendar,
          Dec. 21st 2012. Scientists have brushed off the allegations of elderly pranksters,
          as this one seemed to have required levels of astronomical knowledge far beyond
          human intelligence.
          #983

          Madame Chesterhope went to the garage, to get one of her preferred modes of transportation.
          She had dressed for the occasion in black leather, shouting a spell in a hurry to the mirror which had been flippantly reflecting back at her some awfully podgy image. Voodoo mirrors weren’t the quality they used to be these days. Bloody buggers of Goblinkeas manufactors… She would have a word with them soon.

          There it was. A shiny Farley Travinston motorbike.
          With some magical modifications, of course, but it had retained overall form and purpose closely similar to the original design. How she loved those machines! She had started to gather them for centuries (in Earth way of counting time), and she could still remember her very first one, the wreck it was compared to this one
          Of course, she had no use for them, but wasn’t that the point of decadent treasure piling up?

          All geared up, she hopped on the seat, and started the trans-dimensional engine. Where was it already? Pacific island… That could sound like vacations she smiled to herself…

          #970

          When Veranassessee entered the room, looking for the guests, she was startled to discover the awful mess.

          At first, she thought the cyclone Ycart may have been doing the wreckage, but soon she found out that no wall was gone, so it was obviously coming from inside the facility.

          What the…

          The super-calculator computer had been torn apart, and the electronic insides spread out everywhere.
          The Confregration would be furious that all was left of their precious asset they entrusted the mad (mmm, mentally challenged) doctor to carry out his insane (err… unusual) experiments was a big pile of unworkable chunks.
          She was thinking of how she could cover up that mess… given that the doctor was still probably reeling in frilly suspenders and silky dresses, she had time to clean up a bit. The Doc would probably won’t notice a difference, as megalomaniac as he was, he wouldn’t admit that a great part of his strides in his researches on spider genome were coming from the super-calculator…
          That nose of a b… nurse Bellamy was probably cleaning up his drool, so she might have enough time to act.

          Pushing aside a few coconuts, Veranassessee backed away suddenly…

          A trail of purple blood now?

          #964

          Tina, don’t listen, she’s only a clone!

          AHAHAHAH, now that’s Dory calling us delusional, see Finn…
          I told you she’s a mad woman, believing all
          that stuff about ancient pyramids in Spain ahahaha

          I’m not schizophrenic, no no!

          And now she only speaks about that Wrick she’s just met…

          STOP THE VOICES IN MY HEAD!

          :fleuron:

          Focus on what you KNOW, BE in the NOW

          ~ I AM ~

          I KNOW I am more than what I appear to be.
          I KNOW it is all One Experience.
          I KNOW I don’t need to know everything, and if I do, information will appear.

          ~ I KNOW I AM ~

          #950
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            When Becky had made her unexpected trip to Marseille just before her honeymoon, she warmly recommended Al to contact Leah’s brother, the renowned psychiatrist Dr. Lee Muir, who appeared to be living almost next door to them, in New Venice…
            Their fields of study weren’t exactly similar, but they probably could mutually benefit from each other’s knowledge: for one of the mind, and the other of the body (all the more since Lee Muir was trans-gendered, and was now a woman by all means, which certainly was within Al’s field of studies).
            Dr. Lee Muir was using what (s)he called “Fairly Graphical Fluid therapy” (or FGF therapy for short) as her preferred technique to help re-balance the mind of the most insane patients. It was a type of extreme reportage to the confines of the mind, as she would say.

            Al had emailed the Doctor, and send her a copy of funny doodles in jest, to see what would come out of this.

            This morning, Dr Lee Muir called him to schedule an appointment. Al could discern some anxiety in her manly voice… Could it be linked to this stupid doodle ?

            #949
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              They don’t do much though Sam, do they? said Tina, looking quizzically at the sleeping infants and just managing to repress the urge to prod one of them in order to wake it.

              Sam did not appear to be overly bothered. He was making strange cooing noises and waving a toy Lemur in the air in front of the cribs.

              He glared at Tina. Shush Tina! Do you have no maternal instincts at all? Sleeping or not, they take everything in. Do you know that baby crocodiles talk to each other even from inside the egg? He shook his head in exasperation.

              Don’t mind that mean old Tinipooh, he said gently to the babies. Uncle Sam will play you some nice soothing didgereedoo.

              Tina laughed, kissed Sam affectionately, and made a hasty exit. Not that she didn’t enjoy the didgereedoo, of course.

              #942
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Becky pulled a loose cotton dress out of the suitcase, and scowled at her bikinis. I’ll go for a long hike, she muttered to herself, slipping a pair of strappy mule sandals on her feet. At least my legs aren’t fat! she said, admiring her slim ankles.

                Slamming the door of the hotel bedroom behind her, Becky trotted down the stairs, hesitating momentarily at the dining room, she decided against breakfast, and strode out of the door into the morning sunshine.

                Squinting in the glare of the bright tropical sun, Becky swore under her breath. Forgot my fucking sunglasses, damn! Not wanting to return to the bedroom and see Sean again, Becky strode on.

                She walked and walked, hardly noticing a thing as she grumbled and fretted to herself. She reached the edge of the town and carried on walking; not paying attention to where she was going, she made randon turns to left and right, and eventually the paved roads petered out into dirt paths, and still Becky strode on in her flimsy sandals, squinting with the sun and the sweat that was dripping into her eyes.

                By the middle of the afternoon, Becky was hopelessly lost and close to swooning with hunger and the overpowering heat, but she stumbled on. A sudden sharp pain almost doubled her over, and she stood clutching her stomach. Shit, I should have had breakfast, she swore under her breath, mistaking the pain for a hunger pang.

                Perhaps a trifle unwisely, Becky decided to run, in an attempt to find the nearest house or village in which she could find a morsel to eat. Before long the inevitable happened, and she twisted her ankle on a stone and fell heavily, banging her head and knocking herself blissfully unconscious.

                #937

                When Anu woke up, all was fuzzy around her. She could remember the movements inside the wortex, the strange feeling of being dissolved into a million particles, and falling quickly as if falling from the sky.
                She was feeling alone. She wasn’t cold, but not comfortable either. The soil was damp, and rain was still falling were she was. Her little bag with her GameGirl Advanced was all stained by the brownish yellow mud, but it didn’t matter.
                At every moment, she expected her friends to appear once again, but she started to fear they had gone forever. Araili with its pointy dark ears, and its soft fur, Yuki, and the others. Where were they?

                Anita, are you alright?

                The voice was familiar, she recognized the unshaved face of Akita emerging from the shadows, and felt relieved. And she started to remember… her parents? Were they okay? They were with Akita in his werelynx form back “thenre”…

                Your parents are alright… They started to wake up, they asked for you… But we shouldn’t stay here, we have to find a shelter, because I think one of the spiders is here, and she will want to build a nest…

                Anita picked up her bag and started to follow Akita. A faint whisper made her turn her back to the spot were she was… there was nothing though. But she could have sworn she wasn’t alone…

                #936

                California, 1849

                Almost five months… Five whole months they’d been traveling all around the place at a very slow pace.
                Twilight was enjoying every instant of being in the middle of that strange moving cohort.

                She had been inspired to write daily. Not much at the beginning, but it was all “in the dedication and intent that marvel would shine through”, as Felix, the Otter man had been saying to her.

                In truth, she wasn’t really expecting marvels, but marvels had come to her more than once.
                At times, she even felt compelled to write about it to Jo and Elroy, her dear brothers. Of course, she’d been writing with a clockwork regularity, posting sometimes more than a few letters at each of their settling near a new town, all the way from Texas, to Colorado, Utah, Nevada and finally California. She wasn’t even sure the actual letters were reaching them, but she more than once felt like her thoughts had reached them throughout the distance, and her dreams would confirm her into these intuitions.
                That trip was hard, harder than she would have guessed, with all the heat, dust and chaotic dirt trails, but the company and fellowship was always uplifting, and a joy of each instant.
                Even the war between America and Mexico that made travel even more perilous was over after two years, and things all around seemed to settle down more peacefully as if to reflect that truce.

                And now, looking at all of what she had gathered, she was amazed at these marvels she had collected, those nuggets of their lives, each moment seemingly so fleeting and trite, and yet, as they were put together, all marvelously interwoven.
                Though she mostly loved passionate real-life stories, she had to admit she had a soft spot (or let it be said, an un-common spot) for one of her most delirious story.
                She had been inspired to write something about giant ants after she’d been amazed at seeing huge ant hills during their trip in the deserts. There was this mad quack who was trying to extract some sort of honey from giant ants to make a powerful drug, and and she had added lots of her friends from the show inside this story. Herself was a delightful jet-black haired beauty with an impossible name and diverse and frustrated love interests, spying on the mad quack… She even started to dream about that story at times…

                She loved that gentle slipping into abundant nutness…

                Now that they were arrived in San Francisco, she was considering settling there for a while, sharing her time between writing and dancing. Time would tell.

                #935

                From one blink to the other, hung betwixt spaces and times in that now where there is no such thing as space or time, Leörmn was considering the wide network of possibilities through the eyes of his friends to assist their movement.


                The “blink” was an opportunity for them; an opportunity to rearrange the space, incorporate new physical aspects, or discard others.

                In truth, all was ever here, at their reach. All was surrounding them in a dance of invisible links of consciousness.
                These links were, like the grains of sand of a giant glubolin, constantly vibrating in an arrangement made to accommodate and fit those clumps of grains known as “essences” that were playing for a moment the game of having an identity and being separated from the whole vibration moving through the sand —even playing to the point of identifying themselves with the sand at times.

                You could see that as a progressive enhanced experience, and while most races he had seen were having fun playing with many filters overlaying the experience of that vibrating scenery of conscious sand, Leörmn was a dragon, and dragons had no need for that many layers.
                That was where the energy of Malvina, and Georges, were helpful. In tuning into their filterings, Leörmn could dim the spotlights on the parts of this unbound scenery which was not useful to them. But still retaining this wide awareness of the infinite realm of possibilities, he could also easily spot those most accessible to them.
                And even as consummate a traveler Georges was, there were still energy reconfiguration of the overall scenery that were not easily reachable for him.
                Tuning into another world or reality was mostly easy. Altering the configuration of the physical reality at a bigger scale was another thing altogether.

                That tremendous power had made the dragons almost extinct in the past —a better way to put it would be to say that they slipped into other dimensions, exited that of Alienor—, fearsome as it was for the other races.
                The seed that was found in that past they had just visited was already germinating. The whole probability trail looked to the dragon like something radiant and warm as the little creature named Leo, curled-up into Malvina’s aura…

                What would be their next move now?

                #932

                Madame Chesterhope couldn’t believe her ears.

                WHAT?! YOU LOST IT?!
                — Yes Madam, we lost contact, and we have reasons to believe that an unexpected well-planned counter attack on our team of magpies is to be blamed for…
                — For that fiasco, Tfark! And where is the damn skull?! Will I have to go fetch it myself?
                — There was report of a spy mottherfly that managed to escape by the wortex before it was closed. Nothing definite but we have reason to believe that the skull is still on the island. An agent of your old friend the Baron has been spotted heading back there.
                — I will deal with it myself then.

                The glow of the transmission ball went out in a whiff.

                Ah, she hated to have to come back to that dimension, especially in this time framework where everything was so clouded in terms of potentials. But she couldn’t really trust anyone on that.

                #925
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  “My yellow is fine and dandy”
                  Said green hued sickly Mandy
                  “You’re mad to suggest
                  A yellow sick fest”
                  Said sickly green hued Mandy.

                  :yahoo_sick:

                  That wasn’t one of your finest, dear, said Tina disparagingly.
                  Becky sighed. I need to find a Limerick support group.

                  Mandy felt better at once
                  “I feel better than I have in months.
                  You may be mad,
                  And that is sad!
                  But now I fancy some lunch.”

                  :yahoo_pig:

                  These are special Kuzhebarian Healing Limericks you know, Becky said a trifle huffily. Nobody appreciates my limericks.

                  Mr X is making some rice.
                  It’ll be ready in just a trice;
                  All soupy and wet,
                  She’ll feel better I bet
                  In a trice, at a modest price.

                  :yahoo_money_eyes:

                  “You tried”, she said with a smirk
                  “But I doubt if it will work”

                  Tina interrupted: “You tried she said with a sigh”

                  Becky sighed. I was hoping you’d smirk dear, she said to Tina. The word smirk is on my ’100 things challenge’ list.
                  Tina rolled her eyes and Becky continued:

                  “But the poppy is making me high!
                  So thanks for that!
                  I’ll eat my hat.”
                  She said, “Now I’m starting to fly!”

                  :balloon:

                  Mandy flies off down the street,
                  Smiling gaily at all she meets
                  “I’m high, I can fly!”
                  She said with a sigh
                  Of joyous delight. How sweet!

                  :yahoo_eyelashes:

                  Mongloose had a moment of doubt
                  “I fear she is still in a prout.
                  But one never does know
                  How these healing rhymes flow
                  Before long she’ll be up and about.”

                  :yahoo_idk: :heart:

                  #919

                  It only took a few seconds for Armelle to deflate though she donned off with a hint of reluctance the delightfully filling feeling of power she had acquired notwithstanding the slight overweight (a few grams at best, given her immaterial nature of pristine white hallowy owly essence, but you could not reasonably expect to be really ascended with even no more than a few grams of physicality left, could you?)…

                  So, it only took a few seconds, which in essence’s inner time was tantamount to a mere eon (a merry myriad of seconds).

                  But then, all was so clear.
                  She was seeing the trail that was left unwatched by the spiders, and that her friends would take to the wort-hole.

                  Claude, my dear, would you be so kind as to oblige me for a few minutes? she regally asked her host of the branches, taking great care not to be too self-conscious, which would irremediably make her roll her eyes and lose all composure.
                  Well… err… I s’pose yes…
                  Indeed. Then, take good care of the wort-hole, and wait for us to come back, and then lead us back to the place from whence you came.
                  Wouldn’t do that, if I were you… It’s full of magpies there…
                  Oh bugger now. Armelle sighed so profusely that it made the hair raise on Claude’s head. The Snoot told me the way would be clear, so… have a little faith in me she said in a cocker’s voice.

                  And there, in a majestic elan, she went back to the spot where her friends were now gently getting together.

                  :fleuron:

                  When she arrived, Akayli the were-lynx had just been deposing his precious package of the two silk-wrapped parents at the feet of little Anita. The first minutes of doubt passed, her hesitant face started to show a smile, knowing that her parents would be fine.

                  Yuki was for himself all very impressed by the transformergence of his friends, and was finding that a very good idea to get more focused.
                  However, he could hear the yet unvoiced protests of Armelle at his yet unphrased suggestion of a mergence
                  Now way I get my white feathers mixed in that bloody smelly goat’s fur!
                  And of course, he could hear too the yet unvoiced slew of outraged protests
                  Smelly goat? Who you bloddy call a smelly goat, you persnickity saucer-eyed shuttlecock?

                  Yet… Yuki, gazing for a few seconds of essence in the stream of possibilities, weighted again the enticing result that a mergence of the three of them would produce…
                  Which would be… a… grabbiffon.
                  A magnificent winged horned cotton-tailed… sort of… gryffun… or grumpfoon.
                  Well… perhaps Armelle was right in the not-yet-voiced first place.

                  That would just be plain ridiculous.

                  So… what are we waiting for?! Let’s do it now!! all three of them laughed in unison :D =)) :creating_magic: :buffoon:

                  #916
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Steady on, Becky! said Tina, alarmed. You nearly had that rocking chair right over!

                    Becky steadied the chair and started to laugh. ‘Off my rocker’ sync, she chortled to Tina. Ahahaha, too funny!

                    Tina raised an eyebrow at her freind, who was beginning to have a mad gleam in her eye, and was starting to appear a trifle hysterical.

                    Steady on, Becky pooh! Tina repeated, but it was no use. Becky had seen the funny side and tears of mirth (or was it madness?) rolled down her cheeks.

                    Becky, why don’t you leave that comment in the Reality Play you’re trying to do, for heavens sake, and get a grip first. You know it won’t make sense, and you won’t delete it, either, will you? Tina was firm. BECKY! Just hit send NOW!

                    #912

                    Oh, shite, an aghast Yurick told Finn in the messaging window.
                    What? asked Finn who was giggling (with great dignity) at the new comment he’d just made
                    There will be retaliations says the cloud:

                    “quickly storm stupid Dory closer front
                    try suddenly syncs side free creating
                    taken empty dreams let thread open
                    against beautiful picked”…

                    #909

                    The confusion that Claude had made on the spiders ranks had been all that Phurt had waited for.
                    In her agitation she hadn’t felt the signals that the Mother had been hurt during the fight.

                    The only thing that obsessed Phurt now was that a way was now clear for the giant spider to go nearer the “wortex”. She could feel it, it was coming from the elder tree, the roots of which went spreading miles and miles away.
                    Perhaps she could subjugate that raw power, consume it wholly and become one with it.

                    But, as she went closer and closer, she started to feel as if she wasn’t the one eating or absorbing it, but the reverse was true. She started to struggle as she felt sucked into the wortex, crying as she felt doomed to oblivion, as old Narani had been telling them. How stupid had she been, she should have heard her. And as the Mother was now dying instead of becoming the new Mother, she was now about to die with her.
                    But now was too late for laments. She had to embrace her destiny, and if it meant to die, she would, with pride.

                    :fleuron:

                    They all had felt it simultaneously. Armelle and the Snoot on the borgulm tree, Yuki and Rafaela, waiting with Anita near the perimeter made by the spiders, and Akayli the werelynx, carrying the mummified parents.

                    What’s happening Claude asked to the owl

                    One of the giant spiders went through the hole, and we’ll have to follow her said Yuki to Anita.

                    The good thing is that the turmoil will keep the wortex opened a little longer Akayli thought to himselves.

                    Armelle, go open the way now the Snoot whispered to the owl, then poofed away in a gurgling liquid sound.

                  Viewing 20 results - 961 through 980 (of 1,186 total)

                  Daily Random Quote

                  • — 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, ... · ID #323 (continued)
                    (next in 13h 39min…)

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