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  • #308
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      When Dory finally woke up from her coleslaw induced stupour, she felt quite befuddled. What a peculiar trip it had been! I’ve taken some recreational drugs in my time, Dory thought, but I’ve never had a trip quite like that one. She wondered what on earth George had drugged the coleslaw with. Dory closed her eyes again, recalling snatches of the hallucinations.

      Being chased by bandits on hairpin mountain roads with a small baby girl in the car; being held at gunpoint by Idi Amin in an Afrian court; running, running, gasping with terror, chased by old fashioned Bobbies on pushbikes, and dough faced bowler hatted debt collectors…..

      Dory’s heart was pounding again as she recalled the images that rolled along like a crazy movie montage, a psycho thriller, a horror movie…..

      ……being held down under the bathwater as a baby with a vicious scowling face looming above her; fighting with a witch in the garden shed for tense petrifying hours; monstrous demons snaking blacky out of ouija boards, and madness and asylums; a man lying in a double bed dying from self inflicted stab wounds and she was shouting and calling and nobody hearing; running, running and gasping, shouting for help and no-one was there…..

      Well, Dory pulled herself together, No point in dwelling on it, it was just a freaky bad trip.

      Coffee? George asked.

      Dory’s head snapped round. Huh? Oh! Gosh, YES please! You’re still here are you? Dory rubbed her eyes and shook herself a bit. Just the mention of coffee had already started to snap her out of her unpleasant reverie.

      Of course I’m still here, Dory, George said kindly. I am always here. I was with you during you trip, every step of the way, but you were not focused on me.

      You WERE? Dory was momentarily non-plussed. And then, Well why did you let all that awful stuff happen then? Why didn’t you help me? You just stood there and watched?

      #304

      Írtak was playing with the dragon twins in the carved woodstones field. It was mostly faced shaped petrified wood that had been carved surely when it was still wood. The faces were quite hypnotic and made him feel often sleepy, but with the dragons he was feeling all his senses enhanced and sharpened. :face-glasses:

      The dragons were growing fast, hatched only a few days ago, they were already bigger than his father… He knew from Malvina that they could take whatever form they wanted, but he’d always thought that their power were developing from nothing to … something… but apparently they were already fully aware. Their leather skin was glowing emerald green, blended with some purple pink shades, or was it the contrary. It was changing so quickly. He was wondering what they were eating, because he wasn’t the one who was giving them any food. And still they were so big.
      Did they have a “real” form? Whatever that meant.

      One of the dragon gave him a mischievous glance and before he could anticipate what would happen, he was facing a growling troll :yahoo_time_out:. The troll was running right to him, seemingly crushing with his heavy body all the fragile woodstoned faces.

      All his attention was on the troll and he didn’t hear the man coming.
      And now the troll was freezed running and jumping forever… Írtak’s head was like a big storm of boulders falling from the sky. Growling, drumbling apart…

      — You have strange games with your dragons.
      — …

      He was gaping at the man… his skin was bluish with pink also and sometimes a bit of yellow.

      — Who are you?
      — Don’t you recognize me? :face-grin:

      Írtak tried to remember something. had he ever met that man before?

      — Oh right, it’s our first meeting… from your point of view. I’d forgotten that. But you see, for me our first meeting is in your future.
      — …

      Írtak was still gaping at the man, this strange skin of him, it was so ambrulin, that color he’d already see somewhere… was it in a dream?
      The man looked at him, and he felt for a moment a warm fuzzy feeling in his body… not particularly located in any part of it… and he would have… no, it was even in the woodstoned faces around him… how could he feel that?

      — Your dragons are wanting to take part in the fun, the man smiled. I’m going to let them go, as I’m not staying either.
      — Who are you? managed Írtak.

      :yahoo_alien:

      — I’m your father…
      :yahoo_alien:
      HAHAHAHAHAH! No actually that’s a private joke… I’m Andrimiñ (AndruhMiiñ?) we’ll meet again in a few years of your time. Your dragons are really interesting then, and so are you.

      Saying that, the time began to flow again in the right direction, the troll was still running toward him, but he suddenly slowed down and stopped, shape shifting into a bluish boy, with a face so similar to Andrimiñ.

      — Where’s the funny man? he said.

      #295

      Becky had decided to take her friends out for the day. Poor Al needed a break from scratching his head in confusion, and dear Tina needed a break from rubbing her aching temples. She knew Sam would enjoy a day out too.

      Becky was enjoying preparing the itinerary.

      Champagne breakfast at the Droles de Dames cafe in Le Touquet~Pu first, a table reserved under the gaily striped awning overlooking the sea. Fresh croissants and hot coffee, Bavarian cream donuts, tangy fresh squeezed Tesorillo orange and Tiki kiwi juice, scrambled dragon eggs on French toast, and Moroccan mint tea.

      The exhibit of Sand Sculpture was next, a pleasant stroll on the beach after breakfast would be just the ticket, Becky thought.

      Next, a little side trip to place a few hibiscus blooms on the grave of Oscar Wilde. He was buried at the Father Chase Memorial Garden on a mossy knoll overlooking the sand sculptures, a short stroll from the beach.

      A golden coach and six dappled grey horses would meet them at Father Chase gardens and take them to the lawns of Sandlebright Hall, for the hot air balloon ride. The big red balloon would land on Isla de los Perdidos, a magical island in the Rift Straits, for a picnic lunch under the coconut trees and a relaxing swim in the deliciously warm lagoon. Balti had agreed to provide head massages for the little party of day trippers, and had suggested a big iced jug of crop juice as the perfect accompaniament.

      A paddle steamer would arrive to take them back to the mainland after the sojourn on the magical isle. There were comfortable whicker steamer chairs on the deck with cosy tartan blankets for those wishing to snooze a little, or raucous poker games inside the red plush interior for those who chose to exercise their creating skills on the green baize tables.

      The Cirque de Paradoxia matinee was on the agenda for the afternoons entertainment, with the new sonic stone juggling as one of the highlights.

      A theatre supper in Covent Garden, Becky had decided, and the Orient Express was the perfect way to get there. Hercule Poirot had kindly agreed to serve drinks and nibbles on the journey. Becky perused the entertainment section of The Reality Times, wondering which play to take her freinds to. Aha! Salome, of course!

      Becky considerately booked rooms at the Hogwarts Hotel on Queen Street for her friends to freshen up and change, ready for the evenings festivities. A hot pink stretch limosine would call for them and escort them to the Blue Man Group show, and then on to the party at the Dragondrome Stadium.

      Becky booked rooms at the Taj Mc Fal Hotel for her friends to retire to after the party, whenever they so wished…the pink limo would be available all night.

      There, said Becky in satisfaction, they will love it.

      #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.

      #1468
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        :yahoo_idea:Well, that all sounds rather technical to me, I think I need a fairy helper from fairyland to magically assist me with technical details, I think I’ll call my helper Tekka…no, Tikka…WAIT! I already have a fairy helper, her name is Tiki! So THAT’S who she is! The little cutie that appeared as if by magic in my mailbox is my tech support fairy godmother!:yahoo_tongue: :yahoo_idea: :yahoo_big_grin:

        #275

        Oh well bugger it, said Arona, I have had enough of this. Perhaps we had better just play it by ear if no one really knows how this thing works.

        Which is really, although not in so many words, if I may be so rude as to remind you, what I was suggesting, said the charming Sanso, rather rudely.

        Well yes, that is true … but whatever, let’s not argue, shall we just get going? Are you ready Mandrake? All of a sudden Arona was feeling unaccustomably energised and assertive, and was totally fed up with herself for wasting time so much time sitting around. This was causing her to be a bit sharp with the others.

        You know my problem? she asked, rhetorically, although of course Mandrake felt compelled to offer a reply.

        Hmmmm and which one would that be?

        Ahahahah Mandrake, laughed Arona, well the one I was thinking of was that I think too much. I need to be more like our friend Sanso here. I mean, what does it matter where we end up, it is all a big adventure anyway.

        Well I for one, would prefer to end up somewhere in the vicinity of food, responded Mandrake.

        Sanso wasn’t really listening but was gazing at the sabulmantium with a look of awe and muttering to himself. This really is a remarkable find. I have never actually used a sabulmantium before but I gather that one uses it as a tool to focus their intention, which is a crucial component of the magical creative process. Tremendously powerful tool and when used with awareness by the pure of heart it has great potential.

        Oh great! shall we just get going then, said Arona picking up the Sabulmantium, and next thing you know, after a little bit more wandering down a few more tunnels, which isn’t really that interesting to write about, our three intrepid adventurers found themselves gazing in astonished delight at a most wonderous sight.

        #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.

          #260
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            Arona and Mandrake sat side by side looking into the glass ball filled with sand. They had been practising for some time, and had both become quite proficient at shifting the sand.

            So what shall we make now Mandrake? Something we both like maybe?

            A fish perhaps? suggested Mandrake

            Oh excellent idea! and no sooner was it thought of than the sand would shift accordingly.

            Scrambled eggs I think too, on chunks of homemade bread, said the still hungry Arona, and chocolate!

            Some milk for me, said Mandrake

            Hmmm not sure about that Mandrake. Lots of cats have allergies to cows milk.

            Mandrake rolled his eyes And chocolate might make you fat, he said, but was I so rude as to mention it? and Mandrake created a hairy cow, and a farmer to milk the cow.

            Arona laughed, and created a little sand langoat, just in case the stubborn Mandrake changed his mind. Langoat’s milk would be much better for him she thought.

            The glass ball was now filled with a miniature world of sand objects.

            Arona leaned back against the wall and stroked Mandrake. She felt very fond of the grumpy cat. The feeling of being able to create whatever she wanted had been fun. Perhaps, she thought, her creations were rather rudimental at this stage, but then already she could feel bigger things brewing within her as her confidence grew. She felt as though the sand game had focused her, like a beam of light which shone only on that which was intended.

            Arona closed her eyes and allowed her mind to open and reach out, something she knew she had always been able to do easily, but her fear of the “madness” had made her cautious and hide these abilities, till she became unsure of them. The “madness” was the term the people in her Village had given to the poor wretched wandering ones, who claimed to hear voices and communicate with Gods. Once as a child she had seen the Villagers drive one of these poor souls from the Village, shouting and abusing him. She did not really understand what he had done, only that the Villagers were afraid of him. So Arona had felt it was better to keep some things to herself.

            Arona left her mind open and allowed images to enter. Some of the images she did not understand, and she let them flow on, enjoying the energy of them notwithstanding. She saw a dragon, it was not the one with the mouthful of riddles, but another one, a baby one she felt. Her ability to see pictures was quite rusty, but she felt a connection with this baby dragon and a great fondness for it.

            She felt a great peacefulness in her body, a knowledge that walking in the world of magic would be easier from now on

            #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.

            #256

            Yann have been working on the drawing sporadically, several subject were coming to his mind at the same time and he wanted to treat them all… All what he could do for the moment was just draw some sketches of all that… there was that scene with his niece and the dragon-boy, and that other scene where he could see that man on a dinosaur-like mount…

            At times he could also feel the gentle energy of his dear friend Amanda. He’d wanted to meet her in Vienna in June, but unfortunately she couldn’t attend the meeting. She was participating in his current exploration of art. It was like he could feel many energies from different people and different beings and he could choose to express them as he wanted.

            Some could be translated just in movement, like just drawing lines and create a harmonious disposition and interactions between them, suggesting other lines that weren’t fully expressed or weren’t expressed at all.

            Some others could be translated as colors and shades, contrast and iridescence… possibilities were infinite.

            He was wondering how he could introduce the gentle energy of his friend, but maybe it had already been incorporated.

            :fleuron:

            Salome was feeling a draw to the cave…

            She was focusing her energy slightly differently now, in order to manifest in this dimension an aspect of herself.

            #252
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Becky lay back and closed her eyes, and started to drift. Suddenly she felt a snap on the left side of her neck which seemed to alter her perception. After some moments, she felt as though she was an entire country, or even a whole continent, a huge expanded feeling, weightless and timeless.

              BRRRINNNGGGG! Becky fumbled for the alarm clock. Surely not time to get up already!

              ‘Coastal parking on any of the gardens of the self’. What? ‘Coastal parking on any of the gardens of the self’. Becky wrote it down on a piece of paper, and put it in her Clue Box, wondering what on earth it meant. She was getting used to the strange cryptic clues and riddles appearing, and wondered if they would ever make any kind of sense.

              She made her way downstairs to the kitchen, and the headlines in the Reality Times newspaper on the table caught her eye:

              ‘Mysterious Carved Rock Faces Appear in Yorkshire Villages.’

              #247

              “What are you doing?” said the little girl.

              Getting no answer she asked it again.

              “What are you doing?”

              She approached the strange being that was so engrossed in its activity, or maybe it couldn’t hear her, she thought dreamily. She put her hand through the big (what color was that) beast.

              She thought about that a little and tried to seize one of those big berries.

              That worked, she could at least grasp one of those, not two, her hands were too small, but one was as big as that ball her father was so fond of playing with… she couldn’t remember what he called it. Well it mattered not, she could grasp one of them :D

              It was a bit warmer than she would have thought. A bit mushy, and very soft. She had a very pleasant sensation caressing it, it was electric and watery and she laughed.

              The beast stopped what it was doing. Did it hear her laugh? It began eating the berries again.

              She stroked the berry and felt the funny laugh emerge from her chest. When it burst out the beast stopped again.

              “Oh you can hear me laugh!” She said, unaware of her hand gently rubbing the surface of the berry.

              “Grumpf!” did the beast.

              Its eyes were beginning to change, from yellow to a kind of blue with some tiny stars in them. The girl giggled and was suddenly face to face with a little boy.

              “What are you doing here” said the boy.

              “These are my berries, you can’t eat them.”

              She was a bit startled by his first words and she already had forgotten the weird beast.

              “I just wanted to play, they are so soft and they make me laugh.”

              She couldn’t help another giggle.

              The boy still seemed wary of her and began to move.

              #246

              Huÿgens was not much of a cat person.

              He liked his dogs because they were solid, loyal companions, and he could count on them to take care of his herd of langoats.

              Langoats were a kind of three-eyed manic woolly and horned creatures, with a big sensing tongue, attracted to every new sound, or scent, or colour, or texture… well almost anything new that came before their eyes (when said eyes were not covered by thick layers of wool that is). And as their memory was short too, all kinds of things were always new to them.

              That was why the dogs were extremely useful in channeling their movements; not that the langoats would have hurt themselves, because they were very able to provide for themselves, and jump from the top of a cliff without suffering much injuries. But they could very well loose all notion of their physicality and pop in and out of the fabric of time and space.

              When they came back, because they always did magically come back, even after months of wandering, they would at times be reconfigured into another creature, and that would be pointless applying too much effort in trying to bring them back to their previous form, because it was said, in relation to their stubbornness that once a langoat, always a langoat

              Huÿgens had already lost some, especially during the shearing season.

              And he had found himself back once with a cumbersome hippoliphant, and a bouncy shulimeek instead of two langoats.

              Anyway, langoats wool was a very precious asset, highly sought after, as it could very easily bind with magical spells. Most of the clothes made for royalties were actually made with langoat wool, and it was also said that some enchanters had used langoat wool to make magical tapestries that would shapeshift, and reveal things to their owners.

              So losing a langoat was not small concern for Huÿgens, and he had to be careful during the shearing season to leave some mops of hair to cover the three eyes of the beasts, so as to curb their insatiable thirst for discoveries.

              But these days, Huÿgens had been very concerned about his herding dog Fjutch. Fjutch was a fluffy black dog he had found when it was still a puppy. He had trained it to become the head of his pack of dogs, when he had noticed the old rheumatic Thöm was taking the puppy under its wing —because the old faithful dog was knowing that it would depart and would reconfigure into a new form, but would not allow that to happen, not before he could have found a reliable companionship for his beloved master Huÿgens.

              The healing properties of the langoat milk seemed to had done wonders once again, and Fjutch dis-ease was probably just a false alarm, but it had reminded Huÿgens how much he appreciated his dogs, every one of them, every day he was with them.

              As for the cats… Illi, that was her name, had decided to come back to the cave, and he was showing her the way to the place where he had found her. He had asked BelleDora to pack a few things for her. He could not give Illi the beverage she was referring to as “coffee”, as that plant was not found in their region, but in compensation, he gave her a gourd of langoat milk, because she seemed like she would probably need some.

              When he left her near the hole, he had some tears in his eyes when Illi hugged Fjutch very tenderly, as if the dog was reminding her of something dear. Illi after a moment hesitation, where she was like speaking to herself and not knowing what to do, finally hugged Huÿgens too, thanking him for everything he had done.

              And off she was… free and unfettered as a gripshawk

              ***

              When Illi had finished arguing with Illi about having her hug the big man, while this was not manners of her kind, she sighed as she saw that the opening she had first thought was here (yeah, because I fell in there! she said), her senses where telling her that it was now closed…

              How quaint said Illi for herself.
              — Well, as a matter of fact, it reminds me of something, said Illi F. There was that delicious gentleman, John Lubbock who said “What we see depends mainly on what we look for” and somehow it seems perfect.
              — I don’t know any Grubbeck, grumbled Illi, a bit irritated that the hole, which was there before, wouldn’t be here, now she needed it.
              — Lubbock was such a nice person, said Illi dreamily… Perhaps I could just try to have a peek inside the cave, if you let me.
              — What?! Do again your wizzy wooey thing and I’ll strangle you! Don’t know how I would do it, but I’ll do it!
              — Oh, you are so sluggishly gloomy! That was just to help you…
              — Mmm, sorry for that, I was a bit upset, said Illi. What could you do?
              — Just focus on the inside, and carry us both inside… But actually you would have to leave your body here, and we’ll probably see other things that do not belong to this place, but heck! that should be fun, Illi F said grinning widely.

              They were interrupted by some munching sounds and ruffling heavy breath.

              — What the bejeezus is that?! hissed Illi the cat (who didn’t even know how she knew so funny sounding words as bejeezus)
              — Can’t you see? That’s obviously a dragon eating some bushes… How strange… replied Illi F airily.
              — A WHAT? I HATE DRAGONS!
              — Ahahah, relax, I was just pulling your leg.
              — That’s not funny.
              — Well he has funny colours by the way. Pinkish purple I wouldn’t dare to wear in London streets.
              — That’s REALLY NOT FUNNY!
              — Why so? You can’t see it anyway…
              — And what if he sees me? Dragons are vicious creatures.
              — He’s too busy eating these funny berries, and will probably collapse of exhaustion once he’s full.
              — A chance! A vegetarian dragon!
              — OK. Shall we try to find an entrance in the cave with my method, or do we ask the dragon? He looks well-mannered by the way.
              — Oh, by the eyeballs of the Mighty Shrimp, you tell me…
              — No, you choose.
              — No, you.
              — You…
              — Ooooh, bugger off…

              #245

              Captain Bone was packing his trunk. The boat was leaving at noon from the quayside of the fishing village, and the captain was nearly ready to say goodbye to the Sharples family. He’s been happy staying with the Sharples and their unruly brood, but he was a man of the sea, and the salty breezes and rollings waves and promise of new adventures was beckoning.

              The sea mist rolled over the cluster of cottages as it often did in the early mornings, mingling with the aroma of coffee and freshly toasted crumpets. Captain Bone remembered other morning mists from other shores, warm ones laced with cinnamon and cloves, and chilly ones pungent with fishy smells and squalking gulls…… bright sunny mornings with long golden shadows and the endless half light of arctic northern ones.

              The captain closed his trunk without checking to see if he’d remembered everything. Whatever he needed on his journey, he knew he would find. Whatever he left behind, he knew the Sharples would keep safe until his return.

              ***

              Manolo the vet helped the captain onto the boat.

              ¡Hasta la vista, hombre! ¡Buen viaje! Long Tom Bone winked and smiled. As soon as he’d set foot on the boat, he sighed a huge sigh of relief, and all the aches and worries of living on dry land drifted away.

              The Sharples family passed the tissues round. It was going to seem strange for awhile without the captain.

              #242
              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                So the lady whispered the answer to the riddle of the hand into Arona’s ear.

                Oh brilliant, thank you so much, said Arona, hugging her. Her hand felt so much better already.

                ***

                No longer fearful, Arona looked into the glass ball. The coloured sand was shifting. Shapes were forming. At first they appeared to be random and rather vague, just movements without any clear form. After a little while Arona went into a trance like state, and she could feel energy flowing through her body. She noticed that she was able to influence the movement of the sand with her thoughts.

                She stared at the sand for so long that she felt the edges of herself to be blurry. She had strange thoughts that she was a grain of sand herself and that she was being influenced to influence the sand. It was all quite surreal actually, but fun too, so did it really matter?

                #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.

                  #228

                  Salome had felt Georges closer… he was coming, though not here entirely yet.

                  She was feeling like he was in between worlds. And there was that other energy personality with him, a bit confused but ready to move on.

                  Salome was about to meet with another close aspect of herself in this dimension. She knew the connections and her other self knew she was coming. Malvina was her name.

                  Salome was moving fast through the elements of this dimension… it seemed she already had experienced it before, but it was different. New energies and new aspects were adding to the experience and the diversity of it. A movement that could be translated as a big Cheshire smile rippled from her center throughout the entire dimension, and Malvina’s giggle responded in different times.

                  Salome was not yet fully focused on the time and space of the encounter, it was not yet necessary, though it has already been done and they were all meeting in the cave(s)… These caves were a translation of the interconnectedness of the dimensions and were constantly reshaping in the timeline of this dimension —though with the particular focus she could experience most of the ramifications.

                  She was in a manner of speaking waiting for someone, someone has yet to do a little thing before she would send a focus of herself in the joyful party.

                  >> :yahoo_big_hug: <<

                  #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

                  #200
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Lord Wrick was reading a bedtime story to his great grandson, Cuthbert. A huge open fire roared beneath the stone mantelpiece, and cast tall flickering shadows in the dark corners of the room. Cuthbert snuggled in to his great grandad, who pulled the red tartan shawl up under his chin. The Orkney Islands were cold in September, and a chill draught was ever present in the ancient castle. Cuthbert’s twin sister India Louise had already been taken to bed by Nanny Gibbon, who would read her a story in the nursery.

                    “Back from the depths of his sleep, the dragon Naasir exhaled in a puff of smoke” read Great grandfather Wrick. “He’d just woven a wonderful dream…”

                    A parcel had arrived at the castle yesterday, delivered by a travelling artist, who had been invited to paint portraits of the Wrick family. There was no message with the parcel, and the artist, Bill Jobsworth, explained that an old woman in black had given it to him at the crossroads, asking him to deliver it to Cuthbert and India Louise Wrick.

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