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  • #1158
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Mademoiselle Mongoose was the Director of Public Relations at the Z.O.O. (short for Zoological Organization of Outcasts) which was no easy task. Her job entailed ensuring that the members remained Outcasts whilst endeavouring to foster an attitude of Acceptance from the general public. The dilemma was that oftentimes, once an Outcast was Accepted, he no longer qualified as an Outcast and according to the rules, was no longer eligible to remain at the Z.O.O.

      Mlle Mongoose couldn’t find the new Outcast anywhere. The enormous Anaconda, affectionately nicknamed Nana Croissant, was Absent Presumed Escaped Soft, which was one of Mlle Mongoose’s biggest headaches at the Z.O.O. There seemed to be a disproportionate number of A.P.E.S. at the Z.O.O.


      Mlle Mongoose sighed. If Nana Croissant couldn’t be located, Mlle Mongoose would have to report the disappearance to her superior, Sir Raphael Cabra-Chevre. Thankfully the Z.O.O. also had a disproportionately high population of R.A.B.B.I.T.S. (Rare Intermediate ‘Best Bait In Town’ Stars), to cover for the erratic and unpredictable behaviour of the A.P.E.S., ensuring that there was plenty going on for the General Public at all times. (It may be noted by the S.W.A.N.S. ~ Sumafi Workers Affiliated Normal Society ~ that R.I.B.B.I.T.S. would be more technically accurate, however they were generally accepted as R.A.B.B.I.T.S. to Those In The Show ~ otherwise known as T.I.T.S.)

      Mlle Mongoose decided to enlist the help of the C.A.M.E.L.S. (Central Agency for Missing, Escaped & Lost Softs) before alerting Sir Raphael Cabra-Chevre.

      The Case of The Disappearing Aardvark was another matter, though. Mlle Mongoose decided to call in the M.E.E.R.C.A.T.S. (Missing Entities & Essences Roll Call and Time Share)

      #1133
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        After her publisher sent her back the manuscript of her last noovel with a few annotations, Elizabeth Tattler started to question whether she was blinking into the Eirth dimension.

        “Look at that!” she said, watching at all the circled sentences… “good greif, my freinds…” then a few paragraphs later “the cheif of the oodlings”… “her neice…” Something was wroong with her.

        Was she ODding or what?

        Bah, if her publisher wasn’t happy, there still remained Barash who was never afraid to publish a few “od-oddities” (other-dimensional oddities)…

        “Free rein on the reindoors!” She shouted in her office.

        #1040
        1da
        Participant

          7:33:59 AM 8-19-08 ∞1da Geolocation Time.

          days of sleeping slip by. the light on the peaks soft, golden in the cool dawn. a shiver. the water would be cold but thirst is a motivating factor. movement would mean warmth. birds flitting from branch to branch…

          stones to perch on. river jade at my finger tips. the babble of a quickly flowing stream. scooping with one hand to drink from a clear pool, the musky scent of cedar and low water.

          across the wide stream, a river. actually. no. the amount of water between a stream and a river. a young buck, head bent low also drinking. antlers. how are years marked again? two prongs on each side. is that two years after reaching mating age? or four. no matter. eyes latch across rapidly flowing water. we watch each other. both still, both quiet. both recognizing in each other another survival being of dreams.

          dream memory extending into long ago. no. longer than that. the rules to colonizing a planet. simple universal rules. one band of survival beings with a limited number of nuclear families from any survival being group that wishes to expand into livable planets. set down in one place – with nothing. no food. no implements. not even clothes. if they survive they colonize. if not. well. the universe is full of tried and failed experimentation. The pulse of all that is drawn into a black hole. drawn in and back out through tunnels of light that are trapped within the black hole…

          the fact that more than one form of survival being can attempt to colonize one planet at any given time is both an advantage and a disadvantage. they become resource for each other as well as competition – resource and competition, as is all that is within and upon the planet.

          still that cave, that First Cave. on the tip of the continent in the southern hemisphere… blue ocean view… a beginning that is long ago. how long ago? 160,000 planet years? 200,000 thousand planet years? late arrivals as we are, this is where our colonization is now. Digging to find those memories and what is left of that initial arrival…

          walking up this valley on the other side of a continent, an ocean away from First Cave… funny how time advances forward and backward in both directions – in all directions – and remains the same. This now is the same now as that now and remains the same in both directions as it passes around each of us.

          the sun trickling across the tips of trees lower and lower into the valley. another half an hour and it will be in my face.

          might as well eat breakfast while I walk. thimble berries, currents, oh! yarrow. i could make tea. – if I made fire. If I had fire… or i could make yarrow tea because i have sun. . .

          at peace within because i know i am returning to the High Portal Cave on the mountain, near the timberline. the central entrance, near the ancient pine. The safe harbor of the High Portal Cave, the entrance to a multitude of passageways, interconnecting chambers and stunning connecting points that open beyond this time and beyond this continent – before and after this continent. probably, through the right passage way opening beyond this planet. I don’t know that, it makes sense that it does. I believe I will find out in my memory or in my future. i remember some of these things and places. not all of them. i remember entering, finding the stone trough of water with the wooden drinking bowl on the damp ledge. i remember passageways that lead to incredible places and times. why return now? without knowing i know. this is the way it is because this is the way it will become.

          warm sun on my chest. warm from walking. birds, quiet as i approach, resume their constant foraging as i pass. along the shore the constant sound of the river stream like the white noise of the universe, beautiful and ever present so that if i am not mindful i no longer hear it.

          a walking stick. ok, a broken branch caught between boulders. still green enough to be strong, almost as thick as my forearm with little taper and altho it is not straight, it is a head taller than i am – perfect. a walking stick. a walking staff. i work it loose from the rocks. strange markings… the hand of an intelligent being – a gift then.

          do images become visible on these pages or only the thoughts and sights from within my mind, i wonder. i try to remember not to believe all that i think… if i wonder… then do i attempt to find out? yes, often enough, yes. and why is short hair exciting, new, a sign of adventuring? changes. oh. perhaps. or perhaps it’s a way of changing breath. I smile. I walk on.

          #2150

          In reply to: The Story So Far

          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            The Alienor Dimension, Georges and Salome

            Dory (in our current timeline/space reality) meets Georges in a cave in Madagascar during her trip.
            Georges doesn’t explain much, but we get the feeling that, though human, he’s a Traveler, crossing bridges through dimensional veils.
            Sanso, who we happen to meet at times, is supposedly another type of Traveler too, but apparently happier to cross earth-bound space veils rather than time or other-dimensional ones.

            Georges is closely linked to Salome. They are involved in the Alienor Dimension, another parallel universe, which was initially used as the set of the first story bits and in which they are involved at some historical points of importance.

            The Alienor dimension is composed (as we know now) of a central sun named Alienor, and a few planets.

            One of these planets is the Duane, which is a planet similar to Earth, except having easier access to magic, and having dragons, where the characters of Malvina, Arona, Leörmn, Irtak, Badul, Tomkin etc. are supposedly living. A map of parts of that planet was drawn somewhere in the archives.

            There are two major historical plots occurring; one in a time parallel to our own, with Malvina, Arona, Badul’s explorations etc. And another, occurring what we would call centuries earlier, with Lola and her dragon, and the Yellow Princess Atiara story-arc (see Araili’s notes).
            Somewhere in between, many years before Arona’s timeline, there is a subplot with Franiel, the monastery succession, the chalice and other magical artifacts. As far as we know, it ties to the other epochs thanks to Madame Chesterhope and Vincentius’ story.
            Madame Chesterhope is, we found out, known to Georges in his youth, when he first met Salome. Madame Chesterhope is originally from our dimension (Earth, around 1800s something?) but has learned how to travel and is thus able to move through dimensions, and has a few special powers, presumably thanks to artifacts she gathered along her trips.

            Another twin planet is the Murtuane, where there are giant eagles (counterparts of dragons), “mermaids”, zentauras (zebra-centaurs), green-skinned people, and purple beaches. This planet remains to be explored more in depth.

            The third planet, the Phreal, is rarely spoken of, as its vibration was changed before even the first epoch, and is no longer ‘seen’. Guardians, a special race of this Alienor Dimension with great mastery of the energy manipulation powers are involved within most of the historical changes, and in this one in particular.

            Malvina’s explorations are linked to those of her two “sisters”, each paired with a dragon. Initially she’s a healer, but recent developments have made her change locations a few times in space/time, and those alterations have inserted probabilities in the “past”. She has known Leonard, who is also a Traveler and who is linked to Franiel’s subplot.

            #1028
            1da
            Participant

              12:54:07 AM 8-10-08 1da Geolocation Time.

              wait. an entire day disappears. no matter the stars and crickets go on just the same. no waiting. on this journey there are places, wind and the night. stepping through the darkness I move slowly into the moonless night.

              the driftwood shelter far away. thirst becoming noticeable. the clear water is enough for now.

              rain begins to slash down. large drops that soak to the skin in a few moments. a hard driving rain at the front of the storm. leaves thrash about as if to escape from the earth bound trees.

              Stumbling into the brush, i press close to the trunk of a tall redwood and sink down. the dust of the day remains here. even the crickets seek shelter. The shivering slows. i begin to relax, slipping into a dream.

              an island. far away. the last moments of sun warm on my skin. a rabbit the shade of pink clouds against the fading light. the cave far away from my dream as i drift deeper into sleep.

              #1014
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                “Oh just leave the reader to do the proof reading, Yurick! If ‘there are no accidents’ then a few misspellings or a bit of mangled grammar might contain a clue for someone somewhere, somewhen….
                it might be best to leave them in. You never know, you know… and anyway, I have this funny feeling that the pages aren’t quite as officially fixed as we might be inclined to think. Not quite cast in stone, as it were….Don’t ask me what I mean, Yurick,” Dory said with a laugh, “Because I can’t explain it.”

                Yurick knew better than to ask Dory to explain anything, and remained silent, with one eyebrow raised quizzically as Dory rambled on.

                “It’s like the branches of a tree,” Dory continued, with a faraway look in her eyes. “The branches on a tree look like such a tangle, but they are all connected to the trunk ~ the roots might look like a hopeless tangle too, if we could see them, but they do know what they’re doing ~ feeding the trunk or the core which sprouts out all over the place. There’s a bird in the tree, hopping from branch to branch. Does he care if he hops from one branch to another? No! Imagine if the bird was so rigid that he had to hop all along one branch from start to finish before changing to another branch.”

                “Hahahah,” Yurick laughed, “A Sumafi bird?”

                “You might say the little bird is the present moment, free to hop onto any branch at any time, or even fly to another tree…” continued Dory, who hadn’t heard Yurick.

                “Another tree?” asked Yurick with a mock pained expression. “I have enough trees on my plate already.”

                “And the thing is with trees, there isn’t really a place to start hopping or a place to stop hopping, from the birds perspective.”

                Dory turned to Yurick with a grin. “It’s a book that you can read from any starting point. No beginning, and no end… maybe we can have all the pages loose with no numbers on, sort of a do-it-yourself assembly…”

                Yurick laughed, a trifle nervously, and asked Dory if she would like a cup a coffee.

                #1784

                In reply to: Synchronicity

                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  I read this tonight on yahoo news:

                  Earth gives off a relentless hum of countless notes completely imperceptible to the human ear, like a giant, exceptionally quiet symphony, but the origin of this sound remains a mystery. Now unexpected powerful tunes have been discovered in this hum. These new findings could shed light on the source of this enigma.

                  more here on Earths Humming

                  seem to have been many humming synchs the last few days

                  #823

                  It had been more than a week now that Claude had broken loose from one captivity to fall into another.
                  Not that this gang of strange shape-shifting magpie beings seemed to consider him a captive, rather an impromptu host that they felt obliged to take care of. But Claude wasn’t duped one moment.

                  His precedent prison on Tikfijikoo had been relatively easy to break out from, thanks to that unasked for gift of preternatural strength he had gained from the experiments he had be subjected to. Actually, had he not almost been driven mad from pain, he would have been on the loose earlier. Thank the Magpies for his recovered sanity…
                  Security on the island facility wasn’t the highest and most difficult he had been confronted to. They seemed to consider the relative isolation of the island and its deadly sharp coral reef encircling it their main asset in keeping their experiments clear from outside interferences.

                  Claude snapped back from his thoughts and gazed fixedly at a tender green sprout at his feet while humming a nursery rhyme. An effective trick.
                  He had to be more cautious… He knew they could read his surface thoughts…
                  Apparently, he could come and go as pleased him, but as he had tried to find his way back to the island facility, he had discovered that the landscape was changing each time he felt close to it. And soon enough, he was finding himself back to the hidden settlement. He knew enough to suspect his affable alien hosts of playing tricks on his mind to keep him in check. Perhaps they were even bending space around their settlement, as far as he knew…
                  Not intrusive, and yet not a very different treatment from the inhumane experiments. Except he had no mummy bandages this time…

                  Know thy foe so went the adage, and Claude was determined to know enough about his new captors to escape and complete his mission.
                  From what he was guessing, as they had not killed him, they probably would release him (if he was lucky) as soon as their mission would be completed —a mission which was most probably the same as his own. Snatching the crystal skull he knew was there somewhere. He could sense they were after it too.
                  He was wondering who had hired them to retrieve the thing. Obviously they were not from the common lot of thieves, most certainly not even from this planet, and anyone who had hired them must have been in dire need of the thing.
                  He had been told by the Baron that the crystals were storing ancient vast knowledge and that accessing it had been only possible since a few decades, actually since the discovery of coherent beams of light (laser). But even accessed, the information stored remained vastly incomprehensible, and deciphering it could take another millennium without appropriate knowledge of its holographic proprieties.
                  The Baron had told humanity was like a child being given a box of books on relativity… And even the mad transvestite doctor was only toying with the tip of an immense iceberg.

                  Those Magpies were far more advanced, Claude could see it clearly, and he wondered how he could outdo them, if that was possible. Quite frankly he didn’t know why they had not yet retrieved it. Perhaps they were having trouble locating it too…
                  That would mean he still had a head start, however short.

                  :fleuron2:

                  A faint barking sound seemed to echo in his head… It was apparently coming from… the gnarled trunk of an old majestic tree… Whispers seemed to come from it too, like a child talking with an adult, and whispers around them…
                  The tree seemed wide enough for him to enter into the biggest crack of its bark…
                  Could it be one of their secret entrances and exits? There had to be coordinate points were they could get out of this warped space… What was he risking to try?

                  #708
                  F LoveF Love
                  Participant

                    Finn knew what She was up to, even if Finn couldn’t remember what Her name was currently. She was trying to get all the remaining “570” comments.

                    Fuck it said Finn, (with an evil laugh, just for added effect) 579 is mine, even if I have bugger all to say.

                    #1891
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Interesting development in the SM research: those who can’t afford the actual mushrooms can drink the urine of those who can and have done; SM’s have the unusual property of remaining unmetabolized by the body….or something…..

                      #1667

                      In reply to: Synchronicity

                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        it sounds quite synchy to me Jib :yahoo_loser:

                        the evening of my initial egg synch a few days ago, I had another egg synch :yahoo_tongue:. There was a news item about a forestry worker who had found 2 eggs in a nest, and recognised them as morepork eggs. A Morepork is NZ’s only remaining native Owl, and I think endangered, this one was the first in 20 years thought to have been reared and hatched in captivity. The Morepork, named Whisper, was on the news item, it was so cute, it had huge yellow eyes like saucers which reminded me of Tina’s comment in the story, and was sitting on top of the reporters head preening his hair throughout most of the interview.

                        I dreamed of 2 owls that night too.

                        #648
                        Jib
                        Participant

                          As soon as Anadron noticed the signal, he sent an energy thread to his friend Goldarny. The whole community was buzzing in the collective innernet of Asaris, the signal couldn’t have been clearer. It was one of the legendary devices sent to this world a few centuries ago. There were originally 9 of them. One had been broken or “lost”. The eight other devices had been silent for many years, and the Asarisi had thought the knowledge of these devices had been lost by the inhabitants.

                          Among many collective threads and more private ones, Anadron and Goldarny were exchanging energy.

                          The device had been lost for so many years that the Council had suspended the explorations to this world many years ago. Following the Salitre Massacre, their policy was if they were not contacted first they would not interfere. One of the eight remaining skulls had been almost activated for communication. Not quite yet. So they would not send anyone.

                          Both friends were thinking the same thing. Andrimiñ was currently away in another dimension, one with many portals… could he loose his way home? They were both quite novice at these explorations and they were indeed curious, very curious.

                          :fleuron:

                          What was considered a green star was shining upon the land of Nerumyil, giving the purple sand of the beaches some shimmering magpie shades. Falghrus had been observing the human since one of the Daughters of the Sea had brought him here. He couldn’t see any reason for her action… The Zentauras were discrete and respectful creatures… mostly respectful of one’s position in the society, and Falghrus was not one of the few Ambassadors of his People. Interfering would have been very misplaced. All he could do was send a magpie to alert the Council, and it would decide the right thing to do.

                          One of his first reactions would have been to kill the man. None of them was allowed in this territory. Nerumyil had been hidden to their perception long ago. If that creature of the Sea hadn’t brought him here, he could never have reached the beach on his own. He had respected his position until now, though he had tried to dissuade the man to stay longer with his mental abilities. He was one of the Gatherer, but he had a few skills that he could have developed if he had chosen the path of a Healer.

                          But that creature again had warned him, almost breaking the rule. The man was under her protection.
                          The beach was a neutral territory. Between the Land and the Sea, no soul should be harmed. This was usually respected between the Zentauras and the People of the Sea. The humans were not part of this rule. And Falghrus had them in particular distaste.

                          This one seemed quite weak. He would have helped him end his suffering without the protection she had decided to accord to him so graciously. But he won’t stop his observation… he would find a way.

                          #567

                          Veranassessee (V’ass) Eloha, swimming like a naiad in the waves of the sapphire sea bordering the island of Tikfijikoo, was back in a few powerful strokes on the wooden planks of the pier from which she had just fallen.

                          Trained in many martial arts and in the art of concealing her emotions, she effortlessly managed to maintain a perfect composure despite the fact that this unexpected moment of inattention may have cost the loss of the precious box of rare Blue Bonnet spiders —the venom of which was needed for the good success of the “treatments”.

                          Sharon and Gloria, still cackling unceasingly, thanked Armando, the pilot of the seaplane, who had entertained them no end with his stories of mysterious wreckages and lost aircrafts.
                          Now they’d just landed on this paradisaic island, and a gorgeous woman dripping in water was extending them a firm hand, greeting them.

                          :fleuron:

                          Al was wondering who had jinxed his last entry in the play, that he had to write twice, since some invisible mischievous hand had just made him lose the first in the /dev/null dimension.
                          Good thing the Sumafairies bent over his crib had been gifting him with a good memory…

                          :fleuron:

                          Welcome at Tikfijikoo, where your kewlest dreams come troo.

                          V’ass was satisfied. Though, most of the box had been lost, she had managed to save two couples of spiders, which would be enough for the two turkeys. :yahoo_chicken:
                          As for the remaining ones, let’s just hope they’re all dead and drowned.

                          #457

                          Joe indicated left and pulled off the motorway.

                          Fancy a cuppa, ‘arry? he asked his long faced companion.

                          Arr, ok, Joe, may as well. Harry sighed. I just dunno what to make of it, y’know.

                          Me either, ‘arry. What the devil got into ‘em? Buggering off like that! He shook his head sadly. I ‘opes they’ll be orlright.

                          Joe pulled into the motorway service station and parked his car carefully between the white lines. I fancies me a plate of chips and egg, he said.

                          Arr, me too, Joe, said Harry.

                          ~~
                          Harry wiped the egg and ketchup off his plate with the remains of a slice of buttered white bread and said, Our Fred says our Mavis is off, an’ all.

                          Our Mavis? Blimey, ‘arry, not our Mavis an’ all. Joe tutted, and noisily slurped his tea.
                          I wish, he said passionately, I wish I’d never bought that bloody computer, I knew nothing good would come of it. Perverts and bloody foreignors, the bloody lot of ‘em. What’s wrong with a nice pint of best bitter down at the Duck, eh? And a nice game of darts, eh?

                          Or dominoes, added Harry.

                          Arr, dominoes an’ all, agreed Joe.

                          ~~
                          A cuppa just i’n‘t the same without a fag is it, grumbled Joe.

                          It i’n‘t, agreed Harry. I just don’t understand it, what’s our Sha’ need an ‘ealth farm for?

                          ‘Ealth farm? Our Gloria never said nuffink about an ‘ealth farm, ‘arry.

                          #1313

                          In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

                          ÉricÉric
                          Keymaster

                            November 9 th

                            For Yurick, or perhaps shall we say, The Artist Formerly Known As Quintin this sequence of sequence of 911 has the signification of a reminder to be paying attention to self, and being present to himself.
                            The last few days have been, in appearance, quite devoid of exciting new installments of the story, yet, we nudge him not to judge this lack of activity on his part as categorically as he has been used to do. It was a time of self-retreat, a time we have shared with many other essences, as all is connected.
                            A very fine point which has been brought forth by Elias a few days ago (in Yurick’s perception of time) has been that you want to appreciate the process. His illustration was that of a beautiful flower bud that you hold, and that you don’t want to tear open, but rather let itself reveal its splendor, and also, its surprises.

                            It has prompted Yurick to remember something, which had lots of meaning to him.
                            Some years ago, when he was in Kyoto’s forests, he picked up an acorn, as he liked to have seeds or tree corns in his pockets. Back from his trip, in his home, there was this big pot of earth were an old plant had died from the summer heat, and he planted the acorn in it.
                            And he waited. Till he had to move, some months later, having renounced to have the acorn grow at all, as the soil’s surface was remaining desperately flat. Perhaps it had rotten altogether. Before leaving the apartment, Yurick started to rummage with his bare hands into the soil, to look for the remains of the acorn he believed had rotten, only to find it perfectly healthy. And even more, it had grown lots of long roots.
                            So he took it back home, where it was planted and still continues to grow at a rapid rate.

                            Looking at the now big sapling reminds Yurick how that process of growing roots was important for the plant, as they were essential for the oak to be able to survive the winters colds and the summers heats.

                            Such is the importance of these moments were inspiration seem to be scarce, or away. It is ever present, growing its roots very carefully inside the soil of your being, and expanding your connexions, redefining some, bringing new nourishments to yourself… The effects are not always immediately visible, but things never cease to move.

                            Be prepared to be amazed by the colors of the flowers and leaves your seed produces, for as Yurick’s oak was an unusual kind of oak (a chestnut oak ), the very seeds that are in your pockets or waiting in the soils of your dream gardens may reveal their own surprises…

                            #401

                            The Yellow Princess Chapter Book — Part I

                            The singing birds awoke her. She was feeling numb for a few days and was wondering what was happening to her. Princess Atiara, often called the Yellow Princess was 20, a very important age among her people. She was the heir of Landgurdy, the richest of the 7 remaining Warring Kingdoms. Her father, the Yellow King Namiarad Tschãõ, had organised a birthday party for her. Inviting all the warring clans of Landgurdy and some of their allies among the other Warring Kingdoms.

                            Though she couldn’t calm that waruki, or bad feeling… something was going to happen… and it was not something pleasant.

                            #1846
                            Jib
                            Participant

                              The legend of The Weaving Princess

                              Once upon a time, in the Warring Kingdom of Landgurdy, lived the Yellow Princess Atiara. She was living with her father, the Yellow King of Landgurdy in the Subtle Palace of Aram Ardun, the capital.

                              The day of Her 20 th birthday was a very special day. As for any normal citizen of the Warring Kindgom, it was the day She fully became an adult. And furthermore, it was the day of Her wedding with the man to whom she was betrothed the day of her 12 th birthday, Prince Shomar At Gurna from the War Clan Gurna Drom.

                              The Yellow King had organized a sumptuous banquet in the Palace, and although the people of Landgurdy was not invited in the Palace, many banquets had been set all around the country. Only the War Clanners of Landgurdy were to be admitted in Her presence in this most special day.

                              At the very moment of the blessing by the Priest of Tatasi, the slaughter had already been perpetrated. The treacherous War Clanner Namad Gurdin had made an agreement with the Warring Kingdom of Cromash Tur. One of them had been replaced by the Assassin Varad Romash Karad Din, Master of this infamous Guild. Cromash Tur had sworn that very day would be the end of the Landgurdy. And it was. Many had tried to unfold the mystery of the sudden death of all the War Clanners and the Nobles present at that moment. The fact is that they were all found dead by the servants who were intrigued by the silence following the blessing… No wound, no trace of poison. The death of all these people remains a mystery.

                              Though, two were missing. The Assassin, and the Yellow Princess.

                              Cromash Tur’s army invaded the Landgurdy shortly after that… No resistance encountered, no more War Clanners to assure the safety of the land.

                              Though Cromash Tur’s Warlord always denied having captured the Yellow Princess, she was supposed held captive in an unknown shadowy place of the Marshes of Doom.

                              The Death Guards were keeping an eye on her, and every cloth, every dish, every book that was given to her was meticulously checked. Nothing was to bear the slightest trace of yellow. According to the legend, her family was famous with their use of this magic color, one of their most powerful talent was the control of the weather pattern, and the King of Cromash Tur feared strongly she would use her power to destroy his Kingdom if She could see a yellow dot.

                              The Marshes of Doom were so grey and shadowy, she could never see any trace of yellow there.

                              (to be continued)

                              #393
                              F LoveF Love
                              Participant

                                ARONA MEETS THE NANNY

                                Dreamily Arona wandered away from the cave, gently holding the sleeping Yikesy close to her heart. Mandrake the cat followed, elegantly attempting to convey the impression he was there by mere chance, and by some stroke of fortune happened to be heading in the same direction.

                                Arona had no clear idea where she was going, or what her intentions were even. Still this was nothing new for Arona, who was a bit of an aimless wanderer really herself at heart. She pretended she was looking for magic, but really, she wasn’t so sure anymore what she was looking for.

                                Wooha!

                                Arona was momentarily rendered speechless by a vison up ahead. The most beautiful creature she had ever seen sat no more than 5 dragon-lengths up ahead.
                                .
                                Mandrake, she eventually whispered when she had regained her composure, What is this miracle ahead? Is this some maiden’s dream? A heavenly creature come to earth perhaps?

                                A miracle sent by God to save you? suggested Mandrake

                                His near naked body a masterpiece of bronzed skin pulled taut over rippling muscles.

                                Steady on Arona, said Mandrake

                                But you know I am no hapless fool Mandrake, to swoon over a handsome stranger.

                                No, indeed. And might I enquire why for art we art speaking so oddly? asked Mandrake

                                Buggered if I know, answered Arona

                                Despite the bravado she managed to display at times, Arona was very shy, and would never have had the confidence to approach such a godlike creature. However at that moment Yikesy started to cry loudly. The god looked up from his silent reverie and smiled.

                                Oh a baby, he said in a deep melodic voice. I love babies. He came bounding athletically over and gazed down at Yikesy. My, that is an endearingly ugly baby.

                                This is Arona, stuttered Arona, I mean I am Arona, and this is Yikesy, and this is .. Arona looked blankly at Mandrake

                                Mandrake looked unhelpfully back at her, with a rather sarcastic little smile on his face.

                                I am delighted to meet you. Vincentius at your service. May I hold Arona for a few moments?

                                Oh I am sure that could be arranged, snorted Mandrake.

                                Arona glared at Mandrake and decided the time had come to pull herself together. I am so sorry for the misunderstanding, she said charmingly to Vincentius. The baby’s name is Yikesy. And certainly you may hold him for a moment.

                                Vincentius held Yikesy in his strong arms as though he had been cradling little babies all his life.

                                Look this is probably a silly question but you aren’t after a nanny by any chance? Oh no of course you aren’t, said Vincentius, apologetically, seeing the amazed expression on Arona’s face. I am so sorry, just wishful thinking on my part. Please forget I said anything and forgive me for my impudence.

                                Well actually, said Arona, frantically attempting to remain calm, I really have no idea how to look after this baby and I did have a bit of an idea a nanny might be quite useful.

                                Well this is a fortuitous meeting indeed then!

                                But I can’t afford to pay you, she said sadly, unconsciously fiddling with her hair and fluttering her long thick eyelashes.

                                Oh don’t worry about that small detail. I am sure we can come to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement, and Vincentius winked at her.

                                Arona drew herself up to her full height, firmly took Yikesy back and said; I will have you know if you are going to wink at me this can’t possibly work. I have no idea what a wink means. You will have to speak clearly if you have something to say to me.

                                OH bugger bugger bugger! thought Arona. What is it with me and winking. Now I have blown it. BUGGER.

                                But Vincentius just laughed good naturedly, and musically too of course. Perhaps we will just play it by ear then shall we? I am delighted to be your new Nanny :yahoo_big_hug:.

                                #327

                                The rain was pouring cabbages :weather-showers: for several days now, almost the whole week… Baul was fed up with that filthy weather of Cromash Tur. The capital of this 4th kingdom was quite nice and pleasurable, but it lacked sun and warmth… Baul had come to Nâabooli, the capital of Cromash, in order to settle an arrangement. Something quite particular that he couldn’t find in his own land of Erpet Mesh. He’d been travelling for weeks with his guards and servants when he arrived in the city and all that for some foo’kin rain! But something more important than brooding and pouting was on his mind.

                                Tonight he was alone, no servant, no guard… he was wearing a black coat made of goat skin on his usual blue and yellow silk robe, he couldn’t wear anything else, his skin was too smooth and delicate. He was spending great amount of money to take care of his body, it was his own pride, and he considered himself as a very handsome and appealing male.

                                The man he was about to meet wasn’t hiding, but oddly was acting in full sight. Nonetheless, Baul didn’t want to be seen with him, Baul was an ambassador of sort from Erpet and he couldn’t be seen entering in an Assassin’s house. In Cromash, the Assassins were quite a respectable and wealthy, but in Erpet they were outlaw… one of the numerous differences between the two kingdoms, one they would never agree upon. Baul found it quite useful though; many times he’d met Ar’Am Khra, one of the best of this profession.

                                For this meeting, as always, Baul had chosen a tavern, the Landgurdy, called after one of the former 12 kingdoms. The 4 remaining ones were at war most of the times, they couldn’t maintain peace more than a few years at best, and Baul had found many ways of benefiting of this situation. Merchant, Ambassador, and much more. He was thriving with plotting :face-angel: :face-devil-grin: and it was quite useful to be one of the ambassadors of Erpet Mesh, offering him safety wherever he was going. It was one of the few respected rules that were common between the Warring Kingdoms.

                                The Landgurdy was quite a crowded tavern, and the owner was a friend of his, though not really officially. There was that private room on the rear of the building, know only of a few chosen “friends”, so they could enter unnoticed by the usual customers and by would be spies. The rear door was seemingly leading into another building, and some arrangements had been made over the years.

                                Baul knocked the code at the door, and a vasistas was open quickly and closed even more quickly. The door opened then and he entered in the darkness of the house. If anyone opened the door, he or she wasn’t there anymore, but Baul knew the place quite well as it wasn’t his first meeting with the Assassin.

                                :fleuron:

                                The Assassin was waiting in the small room, square shaped with only a wood table and one chair. No window. One dim lamp.
                                He was sitting on the lone carved chair. His clients needn’t sit.
                                They were mere beggers.
                                The one that was coming now, was quite amusing.
                                The first time he met him, Baul was quite young and inexperienced in his own skills. Though he was quite ambitious, Ar’Am Khra had to admit it.
                                The usual reaction when seeing the Assassin’s pale complexion was shivers and disgust. He was used to it and it was a game that he had enhanced with a little bluish glowing dagger tattooed on his forehead.
                                The dagger was the mark of his profession, though not so obviously exhibited by the others. Cowards.
                                At that first meeting, Baul didn’t react the way his other clients did. And it was not influenced by his utmost concerns at that time. Beside his inexperience he was quite engrossed in what he had called his “mission”.
                                Ar’Am Khra did not know of any mission, there were merely contracts.
                                And he was doing what his clients were paying for.
                                Accomplishing his contract even after the death of his clients.

                                He was remembering of an amusing event.
                                A client had hired him to end the life of another man, and the second man went a few days after to his office to beg him to kill the first man.
                                The Assassin accepted the contract.
                                A few days later he killed the second man.
                                He executed the first one not long after that, thus respecting the second contract. :yahoo_skull:

                                He never questioned the motives of his clients.
                                It was not for him to judge or to understand. Though most of the time he did understand quite well.
                                His main motivation was the payment and his own pride in expressing his skill with subtleties and newness.

                                The door opened smoothly. Baul entered the room.

                                :yahoo_alien:

                                :fleuron:

                                Yann and Quintin had an interesting chat during the afternoon. Yann had some new impressions about the map of Lord Wrick annotated by Quintin. Something about the Warring Kingdoms, triggered by a dream of an Assassin in one of them. It was frustrating not to be in the same room so Yann could show Quintin directly on the map, but with Internet there were some other options.

                                The names of these lands were Ata’Meliu, Dam Adbor, Erpet Mesh and Cromash Tur. These 4 Kingdoms were rather scattered on the Lan’Ork part of the continent, pieces and bits everywhere, though Ata’Meliu was more in the center and the South of the Lan’Ork, Dam Adbor in the East and in the North, and Cromash Tur in the West and South West parts, Erpet was divided in 2 main areas, one located on the Northern land just before the Isthmus of Ghört’s Hammer, and a smaller one lost in the middle of Ata’Meliu.

                                Yann only had the impression of 2 of the capitals, Naat Medin was the one of Erpet Mesh and Nâabooli of Cromash Tur.

                                Quintin just sent him the map so he could draw some more comments and sketch the boundaries of the Warring Kingdoms. He didn’t know why, but he felt some movements were about to begin, some reconfigurations of the borders :world:

                                #326
                                ÉricÉric
                                Keymaster

                                  The unusual overwhelming heat, which had begun with the spring equinox had finally temporarily receded with the appearance of big opaque cumulonimbus filling the sky with a mute thunderous sound. The flickering glow was no longer enough for Raphael to distinguish the small dark characters dancing before his eyes, the storm having let the night pounce on them earlier than it should have.
                                  So, Raphael closed his thick leather-bound book and put it back into his burgundy backpack bag, inhaling deeply the air of the dusk, mollified by the music of the raindrops that ricocheted now discreetly on the rusty steel plates.

                                  The remaining passengers began to hurry around a meager dinner wrapped in dirty newspaper sheets, displaying energy resources that he felt incapable of. Feeling no hunger at all, he decided to go on the pontoon to taste the moisture exuding in the evening, this celestial water, soothing down the fever of this trip, which drew to a close. The boat continued to rend imperturbably through the obsidian sea, and the thick enveloping fog prevented them to distinguish the lights of the city that he could feel at a distance.

                                  This was not the first time, but at each of his return, the city seemed changed, this time ghostly apparition, once glittering pearl. This was undoubtedly one of the reasons which had him leave it, as others would have done with a lover, to better appreciate this fleeting moment of reunion.
                                  The book had been given to him by a stranger he had met, and was part of his mission; he didn’t usually accept assignments in this city where he was too obvious, but the stranger had assured him nothing illegal would be required of him, just delivering a book.
                                  He had leafed through the book, just to make sure there was no foul play on the part of this strange man with amber eyes that seemed to keep changing colours. But the book had seemed innocuous. Even worse, it did not make any sense for Raphael. The chapters were randomly numbered, and the text seemed to keep changing. Perhaps it was Raphael’s mind which played tricks on him, but it was baffling for him, as he was accustomed to keep his senses sharp as a dagger. Whatever,… The man had paid, and a plump pile of money even.

                                  The insistent rumors of a mysterious illness which had already claimed fatalities within the walls of the city had not deterred him to go there —knowing that the few people caring about him would have preferred to see him flee this destination, so certain as they were to be themselves immune to the contingencies of life. Even the bald adipose captain of the ship, Fat Yong Choi had seemed wary of having a pale-skinned foreigner coming on board of his boat, but he had quickly seen that Raphael was no common traveler.

                                  But there was no longer time to rehash those turpitudes, the harbour finally appearing, like a halo glow from the contours of which some faint sounds escaped, soon to be stifled by the purring and cracking of the bulging vessel.

                                  :fleuron:

                                  The winds began to sweep the docks violently, causing the cargo, now anchored, to oscillate wildly, like a huge weeble at the hands of the elements. Fortunately, due to the alarming news from the city, the boat was only half full, and the unloading was smooth. Raphael, unnerved by the long journey, only wanted to walk, but patiently followed the slow pace of the procession which led him outside of the harbour’s enclosure, even before he had noticed it.

                                  Raphael wanted above all to rest, but didn’t care to be bothered speaking to someone. He preferred to sink deep down in his thoughts while walking through the streets, rather than lose this feeling of freedom. Freedom to choose his own itinerary, without a word to say, entirely open to the silence of the streets.

                                  The fine drizzle had indeed deserted the streets making the city infinitely enjoyable for him. It was indeed just as he liked it best, at dusk, just faintly resonating with the sound of his own steps.
                                  Empty — a few passersby in search of a shelter nearby. He imagined to be a ghost haunting these places without life, enjoying the feeling of being the predator felinely prowling in this scene without spectators, shrouded in the reassuring complicity of the night.

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