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  • #6559

    In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

    Why do I always pick the cart with the wonky wheel, Zara thought, but she wasn’t going to go back and get another one and keep Sergio and Yasmin waiting outside. She zigzagged up and down the aisles until she came to the wine.  What was it the old dear back at the Inn was saying about the alcohol laws in Alice?  Well, surely that didn’t apply to tourists.  There were two men chatting in the middle of the aisle and Zara deftly skirted around them without the unpredictable cart crashing.  While she was perusing the wines hoping to find a nice Rioja, she couldn’t help but overhear the clear ringing tones of one of the men saying “True love never dies!” and a few other things which she later forgot, which she thought was quite an odd topic for two men to be discussing in the Piggly supermarket in the outback of all places.  The man with the poetic voice went on his way, leaving the other man with the little girl in the child seat of the cart ready to move on, but Zara’s cart was straddled across the aisle so she quickly moved it out of the way and continued scanning the wine selection.  A clear sweet voice rang out behind her. “Thank you.”  She turned, and her eyes met those of the girl (afterwards Zara could have sworn the child was 10 or 11, and surely too big to be sitting in the baby seat, but yet felt sure the child had indeed been sitting in the cart).  They exchanged a deep meaningful smile of magical proportions that defied explaining in mere words.  Later when Zara told Yasmin about it, she said it was “one of those moments, you know?” and Yasmin understood what she meant.  The child seemed somehow familiar, and there was that shimmery timeless oddness to the encounter which made Zara feel a bemused lightness.

    child in supermarket

     

    Zara was still gazing at the rows of wine bottles when Yasmin caught up with her. “What’s taking you so long, you haven’t even got anything in your cart yet!”

    Snapping her attention back, Zara asked Yasmin to help her choose the wine, asking her, “Do you ever feel like you can’t tell the difference between the game and real life?  Like sometimes a scene in real life isn’t quite real?”

    “I dunno about the game but real life seems strange enough. That woman outside with the BMW hire car that was in the loo before me, there was something familiar about her, something creepy.  And look what I found in the cubicle,”  Yasmin looked around quickly to make sure they were alone and pulled something out of her pocket.

    crucifix

     

    “Looks like the chain broke, is it gold? Might be worth something,” Zara was missing the point.

    “It’s a crucifix.”

    “If it’s gold it can be melted down and made into something else,” said Zara missing the point again.

    “It’s the same as the ones the nuns at the orphanage wear,” Yasmins whisper turned into a nervous snort.

    “I wonder who dropped it and what they were doing here.  That tart in the BMW didn’t look like a nun to me.”  Zara almost snorted too (was it contagious?) and then wondered why tart and nun sounded vaguely familiar and why yellow cabs had popped into her mind.  “Come on, we’ve kept Sergio waiting long enough already.”

    After all the deliberation over which wine to choose, they grabbed a half dozen bottles each without further ado and went to the checkout.

    #6558

    In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

    “Nice BMW,” said Yasmin. She pointed towards a shiny black car parked in front of the supermarket. “My Uncle has that model.”

    “Pretty flash,” agreed Sergio. He sniffed and scratched his nose vigorously. Yasmin was amused to notice Zara frown, ever-so-slightly.  Sergio squinted towards the BMW. “Looks like it’s a rental too. Beats this bloody Toyota any day.”

    “Do either of you want to get anything while we are here?” asked Zara brightly. “I’ve got a little stash of snacks back at the Inn …”

    “No I’m good, but I do need to use the loo,” said Yasmin. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she surveyed her surroundings. There’s that garage over the road but it looks a bit dodgy. Wish I’d gone back at the airport now.”

    Zara nodded. “Okay I’ll just get the wine then! See you in a few minutes”

    “The toilet is around the back, but it’s in use,” said a friendly man behind the counter. Yasmin wondered how long before she got used to the distinctive nasally twang of the Aussie accent. She thought briefly of Fred and the mysterious brown parcel in her bag. She thanked the man and perused the shelves while she waited. As she was struggling to choose between a bar of chocolate or a bag of cashew nuts, neither of which she wanted but she felt obligated to buy something, a well-dressed woman stormed in and flung the toilet key at the counter where it bounced and skidded to a stop next to a box of chewing gum. “Disgusting,” Yasmin heard her say before she pivoted on her Gucci-emblazoned trainers and flounced out the door.

    “Looks like the toilet’s free,” said the man with a grin.

    #6553
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Luckily for them, the sand structure with the nearby nests of snapping sand turtles was also a graveyard for the military drones that weren’t apparently programmed to register natural elements as threats.

      They quickly found four of them who weren’t completely damaged, and with some technical assist from Jorid, Georges was able to repair the propulsion and deactivate the military programs and tracking beacons.

      Klatu had some ropes in his speedster that they tied to their rudimentary drive and the drones, so they could carry Léonard’s body while he was still in stasis.

      His vitals were generally positive, and Salomé kept checking on him, while Georges and Klatu managed attaching the odd assemblage of drones to their craft.

      The ride back wasn’t as bad as the first time, maybe due to the extra cargo that made maneuvres more complex for their green driver.

      “This is worth the detour. Seems like Klatu really wanted to save time and avoided to show us the scenic route the first time,” said Georges trying to break the tense worried silence.

      Salomé smiled weakly “Léonard’s consciousness is embroiled into complex thoughts; they have to deal about some threat, the nature of which eludes me for now. It looks as though he’s absorbed some sort of forbidden knowledge, something potentially dangerous,” Salomé said to Georges. “I’m no longer as sure he was imprisoned for his punishment, but rather for protection…” she sighed. “for everyone else’s protection… I will feel better when we’re all back to the Jorid and we can run a full diagnosis.”

      Georges looked at his friend apparently sleeping, and wrapped a loving arm around Salomé’s shoulder “It’s not going to be long now. He’s going to be fine.”

      ***

      “Horrible doing business with you.” Klatu said as they parted, rubbing his hands together in gleeful satisfaction. Whatever the Jorid had organised as a deal for his payment, it seemed the added drones weren’t part of it and came as an extra bonus.

      :fleuron:

      Inside the Jorid, while Salomé was setting up space for Léonard and making the preparation for the diagnosis, Georges looked at the tiles board, readying the craft for imminent departure.

      A new tile had appeared, with a distinct pattern form, almost like an ogee.

      “Jorid, is this new?”

      “Indeed Georges, our adventure has inspired me to create new avenues of exploration.”

      “Oh, that’s fresh.” Georges looked into the shifting symbol at its surface. After it stabilised, he could see there was a sort of spiral shell with forms reminiscent of the mocking turtles peeking out from the centre, surrounded by sand dunes.

      “Jorid, tell me more please.”

      “Sure, I’d call it ‘Sandshell‘. Do you want the full curriculum?”

      “Absolutely, colour me intrigued!”

      The Sandshell:
      Function: A reminder of the fragility of our perceived reality and the importance of questioning our assumptions
      Families: Vold, Zuli, Ilda
      Significance: The Sandshell represents the shifting and unstable nature of our beliefs, assumptions, and understandings. Like the sand that slips through our fingers, so too can our perception of the world around us be ephemeral and illusory. The image of the mock turtle serves as a reminder that we often live under assumed identities and in a world built on questionable foundations.
      As advice: The Sandshell encourages one to question their beliefs and assumptions, to examine the foundations upon which they have built their reality, and to search for a deeper understanding of truth.
      Depiction: The Sandshell can be depicted as a spiral shell with a mocking turtle peeking out from the center, surrounded by sand dunes. The sand symbolizes the instability of our perceptions and the turtle represents the assumed identities and neurotic fairy tales that make up our reality. The spiral form of the shell represents the journey of discovery and self-reflection.”

      “I love it,” said Georges enthusiastically “can we use it to plot our next course?”

      “As a matter of fact we can Georges. Let me realign the grid and propose some suggestions. Do you have a seed thought to offer for this journey?”

      Georges pondered for a while, when the image of the fishboard sprung forth in his mind. “Our little adventure is reminding me of our origins, Jorid —Léonard, working on the fishboard, your ancestor in a way… Us, finding Léonard… It feels like an adventure back to our origins. Can you project a destination on this vector…” then thinking at Salomé’s worried face “… that would be safe for our next stop, and allow us to find help for Léonard.”

      “Verily.” Jorid answered back. “Course plotted. Please get comfortable until we arrive at our destination.”

      #6552

      In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

      When Xavier woke up, the sun was already shining, its rays darting in pulsating waves throughout the land, blinding him. The room was already heating up, making the air difficult to breathe.

      He’d heard the maid rummaging in the neighbouring rooms for some time now, which had roused him from sleep. He couldn’t recall seeing any “DO NOT DISTURB” sign on the doorknob, so staying in bed was only delaying the inevitable barging in of the lady who was now vacuuming vigorously in the corridor.

      Feeling a bit dull from the restless sleep, he quickly rose from the bed and put on his clothes.

      Once out of his room, he smiled at the cleaning lady (who seemed to be the same as the cooking lady), who harumphed back as a sort of greeting. Arriving in the kitchen, he wondered whether it was probably too late for breakfast —until he noticed the figure of the owner, who was quietly watching him through half-closed eyes in her rocking chair.

      Idle should have left some bread, butter and jam to eat if you’re hungry. It’s too late for bacon and sausages. You can help yourself with tea or coffee, there’s a fresh pot on the kitchen counter.”

      “Thanks M’am.” He answered, startled by the unexpected appearance.

      “No need. Finly didn’t wake you up, did she? She doesn’t like when people mess up her schedule.”

      “Not at all, it was fine.” he lied politely, helping himself to some tea. He wasn’t sure buttered bread was enough reward to suffer a long, awkward conversation, given that the lady (Mater, she insisted he’s called him) wasn’t giving him any sign of wanting to leave.

      “It shouldn’t be long until your friends come back from the airport. Your other friend, the big lad, he went for a walk around. Idle seems to have sold him a visit to our Gems & Rocks boutique down Main avenue.” She tittered. “Sounds grand when we say it —that’s just the only main road, but it helps with tourists bookings. And Betsy will probably tire him down quickly. She tends to get too excited when she gets clients down there; most of her business she does online now.”

      Xavier was done with his tea, and looking for an exit strategy, but she finally seemed to pick up on the signals.

      “… As I probably do; look at me wearing you down. Anyway, we have some preparing to do for the Carts & whatnot festival.”

      When she was gone, Xavier’s attention was attracted by a small persistent ticking noise followed by some cracking.

      It was on the front porch.

      A young girl in her thirteens, hoodie on despite the heat, and prune coloured pants, was sitting on the bench reading.

      She told him without raising her head from her book. “It’s Aunt Idle’s new pet bird. It’s quite a character.”

      “What?”

      “The noise, it’s from the bird. It’s been cracking nuts for the past twenty minutes. Hence the noise. And yes, it’s annoying as hell.”

      She rose from the bench. “Your bear friend will be back quick I’m certain; it’s just a small boutique with some nice crystals, but mostly cheap orgonite new-agey stuff. Betsy only swears by that, protection for electromagnetic waves and stuff she says, but look around… we are probably got more at risk to be hit by Martian waves or solar coronal mass ejections that by the ones from the telecom tower nearby.”

      Xavier didn’t know what to say, so he nodded and smiled. He felt a bit out of his element. When he looked around, the girl had already disappeared.

      Now alone, he sat on the empty bench, stretched and yawned while trying to relax. It was so different from the anonymity in the city: less people here, but everything and everyone very tightly knit together, although they all seemed to irk and chafe at the thought.

      The flapping of wings startled him.

      “Hellooo.” The red parrot had landed on the backrest of the bench and dropped shells from a freshly cracked nut which rolled onto the ground.

      Xavier didn’t think to respond; like with AL, sometimes he’d found using polite filler words was only projecting human traits to something unable to respond back, and would just muddle the prompt quality.

      “So ruuuude.” The parrot nicked his earlobe gently.

      “Ouch! Sorry! No need to become aggressive!”

      “You arrrre one to talk. Rouge is on Yooour forehead.”

      Xavier looked surprised at the bird in disbelief. Did the bird talk about the mirror test? “What sort of smart creature are you now?”

      “Call meee Rose. Pretty Giiirl acceptable.”

      Xavier smiled. The bird seemed quite fascinating all of a sudden.
      It was strange, but the bird seemed left completely free to roam about; it gave him an idea.

      “Rose, Pretty Girl, do you know some nice places around you’d like to show me?”

      “Of couuurse. Foôllow Pretty Girl.”

      #6551

      In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

      Xavier had woken up in the middle of the night that felt surprisingly alive bursting with a quiet symphony of sounds from nocturnal creatures and nearby nature, painted on a canvas of eerie spacious silence.

      It often took him a while to get accustomed to any new place, and it was not uncommon for him to have his mind racing in the middle of the night. Generally Brytta had a soothing presence and that often managed to nudge him back to sleep, otherwise, he would simply wake up until the train of thoughts had left the station.

      It was beginning of the afternoon in Berlin; Brytta would be in a middle of a shift, so he recorded a little message for her to find when she would get back to her phone. It was funny to think they’d met thanks to Yasmin and Zara, at the time the three girls were members of the same photography club, which was called ‘Focusgroupfocus’ or something similar…
      With that done, he’d turned around for something to do but there wasn’t much in the room to explore or to distract him sufficiently. Not even a book in the nightstand drawer. The decoration itself had a mesmerising nature, but after a while it didn’t help with the racing thoughts.

      He was tempted to check in the game — there was something satisfactory in finishing a quest that left his monkey brain satiated for a while, so he gave in and logged back in.

        :fleuron2:

      Completing the quest didn’t take him too long this time. The main difficulty initially was to find the portal from where his avatar had landed. It was a strange carousel of blue storks that span into different dimensions one could open with the proper incantation.

      As usual, stating the quirk was the key to the location, and the carousel portal propelled him right away to Midnight town, which was clearly a ghost town in more ways than one. Interestingly, he was chatting on the side with Glimmer, who’d run into new adventures of her own while continuing to ask him what was up, and as soon as he’d reached Midnight town, all communication channels suddenly went dark. He’d laughed to himself thinking how frustrated Glimmer would have been about that. But maybe the game took care of sending her AI-generated messages simulating his presence. Despite the disturbing thought of having an AI generated clone of himself, he almost hoped for it (he’d probably signed the consent for this without realising), so that he wouldn’t have to do a tedious recap about all what she’d missed.

      Once he arrived in the town, the adventure followed a predictable pattern. The clues were also rather simple to follow.

      The townspeople are all frozen in time, stuck in their daily routines and unable to move on. Your mission is to find the missing piece of continuity, a small hourglass that will set time back in motion and allow the townspeople to move forward.

      The clue to finding the hourglass lies within a discarded pocket watch that can be found in the mayor’s office. You must unscrew the back and retrieve a hidden key. The key will unlock a secret compartment in the town clock tower, where the hourglass is kept.

      Be careful as you search for the hourglass, as the town is not as abandoned as it seems. Spectral figures roam the streets, and strange whispers can be heard in the wind. You may also encounter a mysterious old man who seems to know more about the town’s secrets than he lets on.

      Evading the ghosts and spectres wasn’t too difficult once you got the hang of it. The old man however had been quite an elusive figure to find, but he was clearly the highlight of the whole adventure; he had been hiding in plain sight since the beginning of the adventure. One of the blue storks in the town that he’d thought had come with him through the portal was in actuality not a bird at all.

      While he was focused on finishing the quest, the interaction with the hermit didn’t seem very helpful. Was he really from the game construct? When it was time to complete the quest and turn the hourglass to set the town back in motion, and resume continuity, some of his words came back to Xavier.

      “The town isn’t what it seems. Recognise this precious moment where everything is still and you can realise it for the illusion that it is, a projection of your busy mind. When motion resumes, you will need to keep your mind quiet. The prize in the quest is not the completion of it, but the realisation you can stop the agitation at any moment, and return to what truly matters.”

      The hermit had turned to him with clear dark eyes and asked “do you know what you are seeking in these adventures? do you know what truly matters to you?”

        :fleuron2:

      When he came out of the game, his quest completed, Xavier felt the words resonate ominously.

      A buzz of the phone snapped him out of it.

      It was a message from Zara. Apparently she’d found her way back to modernity.

      [4:57] “Going to pick up Yasmin at the airport. You better sleep away the jetlag you lazy slugs, we have poultry damn plenty planned ahead – cackling bugger cooking lessons not looking forward to, but can be fun. Talk to you later. Z”

      He had the impulse to go with her, but the lack of sleep was hitting back at him now, and he thought he’d better catch some so he could manage to realign with the timezone.

      “The old man was right… that sounds like a lot of agitation coming our way…”

      #6547

      In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

      On her way back to her room Zara picked up a leaflet off the hall table about the upcoming lager and cart race. Before starting the game she had a look through it.

      The leaflet also mentioned the competition  held annually each January in Port Lincoln. The Tunarama Festival was a competition to determine just how far a person could chuck a frozen tuna. A full-fledged celebration was centered around the event, complete with a wide array of arts and cultural displays, other participation events, local market stalls, and some of the freshest seafood in the world.

      There was unlikely to be any fresh seafood at the local lager and cart races, but judging from the photos of previous events, it looked colourful and well worth sticking around for, just for the photo opportunities.

      cart race 1

       

      Apparently the lager and cart races had started during the early days of the settler mining, and most of the carts used were relics from that era.  Competitors dressed up in costumes and colourful wigs, many of which were found in the abandoned houses of the local area.

      “The miners were a strange breed of men, but not all cut from the same cloth ~ they were daring outsiders, game for anything, adventurous rule breakers and outlaws with a penchant for extreme experience. Thus, outlandish and adventurous women ~ and men who were not interested in mining for gold in the usual sense ~ were magnetically drawn to the isolated outpost.  After a long dark day of restriction and confinement in the mines, the evenings were a time of colour and wild abandon; bright, garish, bizarre Burlesque events were popular. Strange though it may seem, the town had one of the most extensive wig and corset emporiums in the country, although it was discretely tucked away in the barn behind a mundane haberdashery shop.”

      The idea was to fill as many different receptacles with lager as possible, piling them onto the gaily decorated carts pulled by the costume clad participants.  As the carts were raced along the track, onlookers ran alongside to catch any jars or bottles that fell off the carts before they hit the ground. Many crashed to the ground and were broken, but if anyone caught one, they were obliged to drink the contents there and then before running after the carts to catch another one.

      Members of the public were encouraged to attend in fancy dress costumes and wigs.  There were plenty of stationary food vendors carts at the lager and cart races as well, and stalls and tents set up to sell trinkets.

      #6546
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        “A-OUCH!” Liz shouted.

        “That’s no way to stop my powernap!” she gave a dark eye to the offender.

        Finnley was standing there, looking cockishly at Liz, “don’t mean to be rude M’am, but since you mentioned the pea-shooters that knocker uppers of old London used to wake up the workers,” she smiled excitingly “I’ve been dying to try.”

        Liz was at a loss for words.

        Finnley loaded for a second round with a selection of carefully picked peanuts.

        “Let me guess…” Liz sighed. “There’s no shortage of ammunitions.”

        #6545

        In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

        The road was stretching endlessly and monotonously, a straight line disappearing into a nothingness of dry landscapes that reminded Youssef of the Gobi desert where he had been driving not too long ago. At regular speed, the car barely seemed to progress.

        > O Time suspend thy flight!

        Eternity. Something only nature could procure him. He loved the feeling, and compared to the more usual sand of Gobi, the red sands of Australia gave him the impression he had shifted into another reality. That and the fifteen hours flight listening to Gladys made it difficult to respond to Xavier’s loquacious self and funny jokes. After some time, his friend stopped talking and tried catching some signal to play the Game, brandishing his phone in different directions as if he was hunting ghosts with a strange device.

        It reminded him he had to accept his next quest in a ghost town. That’s all he remembered. He could do that at the Inn, when they could rest in their rooms.

        Youssef wondered if the welcome sign at the entrance of the town had seen better days. The wood the fish was made of seemed eaten by termites, but someone had painted it with silver and blue to give it a fresher look. Youssef snorted at the shocked expression on his friend’s face.

        “It looked like it died of boredom. Let’s just hope the Innside doesn’t look like a gutted fish,” Xavier said.

        An old lady showed them their rooms. She didn’t seem the talkative type, which made Youssef love her immediately with her sharp tongue and red cardigan. He rather admired her braided silver hair as it reminded him of his mother who would let him brush her hair when they lived in Norway. It was in another reality. He smiled. She saw him looking at her and her eyes narrowed like a pair of arrowslits. She seemed ready to fire. Instead she kept on ranting about an idle person not doing her only job properly. They each went to their rooms, Xavier took number 7 and Youssef picked number 5, his lucky number.

        He was glad to be able to enjoy his own room after the trip of the last few weeks. It had been for work, so it was different. But usually he liked travelling the world on his own and meet people on his way and learn from their stories. Traveling with people always meant some compromise that would always frustrate him because he wanted to go faster, or explore more tricky paths.

        The room was nicely decorated, and the scent of fresh paint made it clear it was recent. A strange black stone, which Youssef recognized as a black obsidian, has been put on a pile of paper full of doodles, beside two notebooks and pencils. The notebooks’ pages were blank, he thought of giving them to Xavier. He took the stone. It was cold to the touch and his reflection on the surface looked back at him, all wavy. The doodles on the paper looked like a map and hard to read annotations. One stood out, though which looked like a wifi password. That made him think of the Game. He entered it on his phone and that was it. Maybe it was time to go back in. But he wanted to take a shower first.

        He put his backpack and his bag on the bed and unpacked it. Amongst a pile of dirty clothes, he managed to find a t-shirt that didn’t smell too bad and a pair of shorts. He would have to use the laundry service of the hotel.

        He had missed hot showers. Once refreshed, he moved his bags on the floor and jumped on his bed and launched the Game.

        Youssef finds himself in a small ghost town in what looks like the middle of the Australian outback. The town was once thriving but now only a few stragglers remain, living in old, decrepit buildings. He’s standing in the town square, surrounded by an old post office, a saloon, and a few other ramshackle buildings.

        A message appeared on the screen.

        Quest: Your task is to find the source of the magnetic pull that attracts talkative people to you. You must find the reason behind it and break the spell, so you can continue your journey in peace.

        Youssef started to move his avatar towards the saloon when someone knocked on the door.

        #6540

        In reply to: Prompts of Madjourneys

        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Update & clarifications on the characters:

          Looking at the avatars that Zara, Youssef, Xavier and Yasmin are using in VR.

          Full name or real name in RL :: name in VR (@nickhandle) description of avatar.

          • Zara Patara-Smythe :: Zara (@zaraloon) is a 25-year-old woman of mixed heritage, her mother is Indian and her father is British. She has long, dark hair that she keeps in a sleek ponytail, dark brown eyes and a sharp jawline. She stands at 5’6″ and has a toned and athletic build. She usually wears practical clothing that allows her to move around easily, such as cargo pants and a tank top.
          • Xavier Olafsson :: Xavier (@xavimunk) is a 27-year-old man of Norwegian and Danish descent. He has blonde hair that he keeps in a messy style, blue eyes, and a charming smile. He stands at 6’1″ and has a lean build. He is always seen wearing a colorful and bold clothing, such as a Hawaiian shirt and shorts.
          • Yasmin Ahmed :: Yasmin (@yasminowl) is a 23-year-old woman of Egyptian descent. She has long, black hair that she keeps in a tight braid, dark brown eyes and a round face. She stands at 5’4″ and has a petite build. She usually wears conservative clothing, such as long skirts and blouses.
          • Youssef Ali :: Youssef (@youssefbear) is a 26-year-old man of half Yemeni, half Norwegian descent. He has short, curly black hair, dark brown eyes and a square jawline. He stands at 6’2″ and has a muscular build. He usually wears comfortable clothing such as a t-shirt and jeans, and always has a backpack on his shoulder.

          Full descriptions for real-life Zara, Yasmin, Youssef, Xavier:

          Real Life Zara Patara-Smythe :: Zara is a 57-year-old woman who is an adventurous traveler and a passionate hobbyist. She has a full mane of gorgeous auburn hair that she keeps in a sleek ponytail, sparkling green eyes, and a warm smile that puts others at ease. She is of mixed heritage, her mother was Indian and her father was British. She is well-educated and well-off, either through an inheritance or a supportive and understanding husband. Zara is a lover of art, music, and history, and spends much of her time indulging in her passions. She is always eager to explore new places and meet new people, and her adventurous spirit often leads her to travel off the beaten path.

          Real Life Yasmin Ahmed :: Yasmin is a 32-year-old woman who is kind, nurturing, and always puts others first. She has long, black hair that she keeps in a tight braid, almond-shaped brown eyes, and a warm smile that lights up a room. Born in Egypt, she grew up in a close-knit family and values the importance of community. She is a talented actress, who has kept her career a secret from those closest to her, in order to pursue a more fulfilling life working with children. Yasmin currently volunteers at an orphanage in Fiji, where she devotes herself to helping children in need.

          Real Life Youssef Ali :: Youssef is a 34-year-old man who is driven, confident, and always up for a challenge. He has short, curly black hair, dark brown eyes, and a square jawline that gives him a strong and determined look. Born to a Yemeni father and a Norwegian mother, he has a unique blend of cultures that has shaped his world view. Youssef is a talented blogger, who has traveled the world in search of new and interesting stories to share with his audience. He is always on the go, with a backpack on his shoulder, ready for his next adventure.

          Real Life Xavier Olafsson :: Xavier is a 36-year-old man who is bright, cheerful, and always looking for the positive in every situation. He has blonde hair that he keeps in a messy style, blue eyes, and a charming smile that never fails to win people over. Born to Norwegian and Danish parents, he has a love for the sea and an appreciation for the finer things in life. Xavier is an AI developer, who is working on a project he calls AL. He is always eager to share his ideas with others and is constantly seeking new and exciting opportunities.

          #6538
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            “That’s all Jorid had to say?” Georges mused at the sudden philosophical quote that read:

            And doesn’t this point to something fundamentally tragic about our way of life? We live under an assumed identity, in a neurotic fairy tale world with no more reality than the Mock Turtle in Alice in Wonderland. Hypnotized by the thrill of building, we have raised the houses of our lives on sand. This world can seem marvelously convincing until death collapses the illusion and evicts us from our hiding place. What will happen to us then if we have no clue of any deeper reality? (The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying)

            “I don’t know about this Mock Turtle, but those snapping sand ones that have been lurking about do look rather nasty. We shouldn’t waste any more time.”

            Klatu opined “Klatu agrees with your female, sand turtle are lovely traps of death. Come with me now!” He intimated them to run into a sand opening he’d just made.

            “Let me guess,” Georges said, “is it the equivalent of a Zathu prison? What powerful people could Léonard possibly have rubbed the wrong way this time?”

            “Not prison.” Klatu commented “Death sentence.”

            Salomé pointed out a glowing twirl of sand shaped as an ovoid form, inside which a human form could be discerned. “That would explain why he’s not more guarded…”

            They approached carefully, expecting some extra booby trap, but nothing seemed to react to their presence, not even the moving sand egg.

            “Let me guess,” Georges said, expecting a chorus

            “DIMENSIONAL MAGIC!”

            Klatu shushed them “Quiet stupids! Sound waves attract good turtles.”

            “Is our friend OK? How do we break the spell?” Salomé asked Klatu. “Can you help?”

            Klatu took a few minutes to inspect the shape, hopping carefully around it, and probing with soft whistling sounds.

            “Friend in stasis for now. Kept fresh for questioning… possible.”

            “Then we must hurry, how can we free him? Can I brute force this?” Georges asked, looking around for something to pierce the sand barrier and hook Léonard out of it.

            “Only if you like sushi friend.” Klatu said, raising shoulders. “No finesse these primates.”

            Klatu moved around the shape, taking some tools from his belt and making some elaborate plaits of sounds, as if trying to match the energy signature of the sand prison.

            After a first belt of soundwaves was wrapped around, it seemed as though a first layer of the spell broke, and sand rained back into the external construct they were it. But a thin layer was still there, shifting and pulsating, almost clear as glass, and sharp as a razor blade.

            “Crude encoding, but solid. Need more time.” Klatu seemed exhausted.

            Georges was getting anxious for some activity. “Houses built on sand… Well I guess Jorid didn’t find the best quote to help…”

            Salomé who was sitting cross-legged, trying for some time to connect to Léonard in his stasis, turned to Georges in disbelief. “Georges, you’re a genius!”

            “What now?”

            “Jorid gave us the last bit we needed.  Until death collapses the illusion and evicts us from our hiding place. Remember? It’s risky but that could work!”

            “Oh, I see what you’re thinking about. It’s mad, and it’s brilliant at the same time, how do we go about this?”

            “I can’t reach Léonard, but maybe the both of us can.” Salomé joined hands with Georges.

            “If he’s like anything I remember, he’d be in his mental palace, his workshop on the Duane… or in Marseille… or with Madame Jamelie…”

            “Focus, Georges!”

            “Duane it is, that’s where he did his best work.”

            “We need to focus our energy to make him appear dead to the construct. It’ll be easier if we can locate precisely where his mind wanders.” Salomé said.

            “He’ll be there, I know it. Let’s do this!”

            The two of them joined hands and melded their minds, one as always, turning into a dark mirror of the abyss, bending light unto itself, leaving the void of creation at the place where Léonard was suspended.

            Klatu looked at the scene suspiciously, but started to giggle as he saw the last layer he couldn’t open finally shatter and dissolve to the ground.

            “Little apes full of surprises,… very awful, so very awful.” he said approvingly.

            As his friends rushed to him, Léonard was on the ground, inert, but apparently alive.

            #6536

            In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

            Youssef hadn’t changed a bit since they last met in real life. He definitely brought the bear in the bear hug he gave Xavier after Xavier had entered the soft sandal wood scented atmosphere of the Indian restaurant.

            It was like there’d seen each other the day before, and conversation naturally flew without a thought on the few years’ hiatus between their last trip.

            As they inquired about each other’s lives and events on the trip to get to Alice Springs, they ordered cheese nan, salted and mango lassi, a fish biryani and chicken tikka masala and a side thali for Youssef who was again ravenous after the jumpy ride. Soon after, the discussion turned to the road ahead.

            “How long to the hostel?” asked Youssef, his mouth full of buns.

            Xavier looked at his connected watch “It’s about 1 and half hour drive apparently. I called the number to check when to arrive, they told me to arrive before sunset… which I guess gives us 2-3 hours to visit around… I mean,” he looked at his friend “… we can also go straight there.”

            Youssef nodded. He seemed to have had already enough of interactions in the past day.

            Xavier continued “so it’s settled, we leave after we finish here. According to the landlady, it looks like Zara went off trekking, she didn’t seem too sure about Zara’s whereabouts. That would explain why we heard so little from her.”

            Youssef laughed “If they don’t know Zara, I can bet they’ll be running around searching for her in the middle of the night.”

            Xavier looked though the large window facing the street pensively. “I’m not sure I would want to get lost away from the beaten tracks here. There’s something so alien to the scale of it, and the dryness. Have you noticed we’re next to a river? I tried to have a look when I arrived, but it’s mostly dried up. And it’s supposed to be the wet season…”

            Youssef didn’t reply, and turned to the leftovers of the biryani.

            Despite the offering to top it off with gulab jamun and rose ice cream, it didn’t take too long to finish the healthy meal at the Indian restaurant. Youssef and Xavier went for the car.

            “Here, catch!” Xavier threw the keys to Youssef. He knew his friend would have liked to drive; meanwhile he’d be able to catch on some emails and work stuff. After all, he was supposed to remote work for some days.

            #6535
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              “What was that?” Salomé was trying to get her bearings after they hit the sand storm into a different place.

              Before the sand storm hit, they got chased by one of the Zathu army drone’s which they tried to shake off their tail, but that was only the beginning of the fun.
              Coming ominously from afar, a huge wall of sand came toward them at surprisingly massive speed darkening all in its wake. They were about to be hit and engulfed, but that was when all took a turn for the strangest. The dark sand wall suddenly split open, reacting to a sound beam apparently emitted from Klatu’s speedster. After that, it was mostly a blur. They had gone into a sort of shifting sand vortex that had them glide into a series of  sliding slopes with the oddest directional gravity pull she’d experienced. She had to shout a few times “Watch out” when some of the giant sand snapping turtles tried to gobble their ride, but somehow they seemed to have managed to reach their destination —and quite safely too.

              “Whooo!” Georges was elated at the adrenaline rush. “So that’s the trick our friend had up his sleeve, it seems?”

              “Silly human hasn’t seen anything yet” mumbled Klatu whose middle ear was tuned into their direction.

              “I’ve got sand in places one shouldn’t.” Georges said laughing, as if to make the air lighter.

              “Don’t get me started,” Salomé managed a weak smile. She never was fond of the speed thrills. But when she turned her head, that’s where she saw them —old ruins dripping sand like a streaming source. Down or sideways, she couldn’t tell. The gravitational pull seemed to indicate they were down, but herself, Georges, their pod and Klatu were all stuck on a vertical cliff like geckos comfortably lounging on a warm wall. Down, then it was…

              It took her a minute to realize Klatu was actually manipulating the sand and the gravitational configuration around, revealing the landscape that was hidden.

              “Mmmm, dimensional magic…” she remembered the words from Jorid.

              “Smelly friends of yours inside. Must go quicksy, Klatu can’t hold it long.”

              Georges opened his mouth, but Salomé elbowed him right away. “He doesn’t mean to pee, Georges.”

              #6521

              In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

              The package in her hands was from Fred and, now she was at the airport, Yasmin was seriously contemplating whether to chuck it in the nearest bin. She hadn’t wanted to take the damn thing in the first place. It was hard to say no to Sister Aliti.

              Fred asked could you please take it to the Fish Inn, or something like that.” Sister Aliti had beamed at her. She was holding out a thin parcel wrapped in brown paper and securely fastened with a whole lot of masking tape.

              “But how did he know I was going there?” Yasmin had sounded more sharp than she’d intended but she hadn’t really warmed to Fred. He made her nervous.

              “You didn’t tell him?” Sister Aliti shrugged. “I didn’t tell him. Perhaps it was Sister Finli … She took the van with him yesterday.” She’d looked intently at Yasmin. “Oh dear, was it private?”

              Yasmin felt foolish. “Oh, no, of course it wasn’t and it doesn’t matter ….  I was just surprised.” She’d peered at the red biro scrawled on the paper wrapping. “I wonder who is … Mater?”

              “He said it was a distant relation! Isn’t it just so wonderful he can reconnect through you! God works in mysterious ways indeed!”

              Of course it had been Sister Finli who had told Fred. Prying busybody. Yasmin had caught her in her room a couple of days ago. Sister Finli had her back to the door and was bent over Yasmin’s desk.  She’d jumped and swung round at Yasmin’s, “Hello?”

              “It’s a pig sty in here,” she’d hissed, jabbing a sharp finger towards Yasmin. Then her mouth curled into a smile. “I just came in to tell you you are needed in the recreation room to look after the children but was distracted by this …” She’d slid her eyes around the room and shuddered. Yasmin followed her gaze. She’d left a few items of clothing in neat piles on the bed because she was packing but everything else looked in order. After Sister Finli had flounced out of the room, Yasmin noticed her itinerary was lying open on the desk.

              But why tell Fred?

              She’d messaged Zara. Do you think I should I open the package? And couldn’t he just post it? 

              LOL, Zara messaged back. Yes open it! It’s drugs. Obv. Oh and more to the point, you are way behind the rest of us in the game. So use your flight time wisely! 

              #6520

              In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

              Rajkumar had named his car JUMPY because he said it reminded him of his mother country. He drove like they were in the chaotic streets of an Indian city. Youssef’s fist was clenched on the door handle, his knuckles white. He needed to hold on to something just as much as he was afraid of loosing the door.

              He had never been so happy as when Rajkumar stopped in front of his cousin’s shop and restaurant.

              “Just in time for the best butter chicken in all Alice Springs!” said Rajkumar, pointing to the restaurant on the left.

              Smells of greasy sauce, meat and spices floated in the air. Despite his legendary hunger, Youssef’s stomach started to protest from the recent treatment on the road. If he had had any doubt, he was sure now that he wouldn’t go on a trip in Jumpy with Rajkumar.

              “Maybe I’ll go for the scarf first,” he said.

              Rajkumar noded and pointed to the right, to a stout man squating in front of a pile of scarves.

              “This is cousin Ashish. You can’t find a better shop in town for scarves,” said Rajkumar. He high fived his cousin who looked like a giant in comparison with the short guide. They talked for a long time in what Youssef assumed to be some Indian dialect. At some point, his guide pointed a finger at him and said : “This big man is looking for a red scarf. I told him you had the best quality in town. Hand made, right from India. Ashish buys and sells the best to the best only. I have to go park the car and tell my other cousin to prepare you a meal. Best Indian food in Alice.”

              After he left, cousin Ashish showed Youssef in. At the entrance incense burned at the feet of a couple of colourful Hindu gods. The intoxicating smell reminded him of a stop at a temple during his last trip with the documentary team. The face of Miss Tartiflate jumped into his mind. He would have to take care of THE BLOG at some point, but for now, he was looking for a red scarf. The inside of the shop was as messy as a Mongolian bazaar. Clothes upon clothes, and piles of scarves everywhere.

              “Red scarves are over there, said Ashish. Follow me.”

              He was less talkative than his cousin, which was a welcome relief. He led Youssef to the back of the shop. On the wall, the portrait in black and white of an old Indian man was watching over their shoulder.

              Ashish took one long red scarf and put it around his neck.

              “You can touch, he said. Very good quality. Very light. Like you wear nothing.”

              Youssef took the end of the fabric in his hand. It felt very silky and light to the touch.

              “That’s perfect, I’ll take it”, he said.

              His phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and checked his messages.

              • 📨 [Quirk Land] NEW QUEST OPENED

              Looking at the time, it was already noon. Xavier must have landed in Alice already. He started to type a message to his friend :

              💬 Meet me for lunch at Todd Mall. Patel indian restaurant next to fabric shop

              #6518

              In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

              Xavier had been drowsing in the rental car for a while, waiting for a message from Youssef. He’d stopped the aircon despite the suffocating heat, as he was starting to feel cold. And he’d started to nose dive in dreaming.

              The buzzing of his phone made him snap back to consciousness from the weirdest dream, he had to take a few seconds to adjust. The phone went into silent mode to voicemail before he got the chance to pick it up.

              Weirdest dream ever. Few hours ago, he’d been going round and round the place, trying to find a library to buy a black book, but surprisingly, even when he’d managed to find a small bookstore, there were none to sell. None with a black cover…

              He’d wondered —sometimes these quests are made to be difficult, but come on, how difficult could it be. Even a plain black-covered notebook would have been enough, but nothing!

              That’s when he’d decided to drop the search, that he dozed off in the car.

              Few images came back from the dream. First, the insane search, and books coming up in all shapes and forms, any color but black… or black but with black-and-white photos on the covers he didn’t want.

              And then, there was one. He started to open it, and all the pages were blank. As he was browsing them, looking for a clue, like a pop-out book, something came up from the middle of the pages. And it was himself, smiling back at him. The shock snapped him right back to the rather quiet street of Alice Springs.

               

               

               

               

              SOOO WEIIIIRD

               

               

               

               

               


              He turned the ignition back on as well as the aircon. Checked his message.

              • 📨 [Quirk Land] NEW QUEST OPENED
              • 1 voicemail from ❣️🐝Brytta🐝❣️
              • 💬 Youssef typing…
              #6517

              In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

              After Youssef retrieved his luggage in Alice Springs, he was swarmed with freelance tour guides trying to sell him trips. You would buy a ticket out of any one of them just to get rid of the others, he thought. With a few hungry growls, he managed to frighten most of them, with a touch of indifference he lost the rest. Except one. A short Indian looking man wearing a red cap and a moustache. He seemed to have an infinite talkative energy at his disposal, able to erode the strongest wills. The temperature was hotter than Youssef had expected, here it was the end of summer, and he was hungry. The man started to get on his nerves.

              The list of tours was endless. Uluru, scenic bushwalking trails, beautiful gardens, a historical tour, a costumed historical tour, a few national parks, and even his cousins’ restaurant. He reminded Youssef of his own father, always offering guests (and especially his visiting kids) another fruit, a pastry, some coffee, chocolate ? You sure you don’t want any chocolate? If the man was tenacious, Youssef had had training with his father. But this man seemed to mistake silence and indifference for agreement. Did he really think Youssef was going to buy one of his tours ?

              “The ghost town! You have to see Arltunga, said the man. An old mining ghost town, certainly an American like you like ghost towns. And buried treasure. Arltunga has buried treasure somewhere. You can find it. I know where to find a map.”

              Youssef wondered if it was another one of the game’s fluke that his quest was apparently bleeding into his real life again. And if there was a map, why hasn’t the treasure been found already? He checked at the back of his mind for the presence of that crazy old lady. Nope, not there. He decided to refuse the call this time. He just wanted to get to that F…ing Fish Inn in Crowshollow and meet with his friends.

              “NO, he growled, frightening a group of tourists passing by, but not the tour operator. No ghost town! We have plenty in America.” Thinking of the game and his last challenge for the previous quest, he said in desperation : “I just want to find a red scarf!” and he knew inside himself and many years attempting to resist his old man, that the short Indian man had won.

              “If you want to find a red scarf, you go to Silk Road, said the man bobbing his head. My cousin’s shop, you find everything there only.”

              Youssef sighed. He thought there were only two ways to take it. The first one was that he had fallen into a trap and try to find a way to get out of it. But it might be sticky and uncomfortable for everyone. So he decided it was the other way around and that it was part of the game. Why wouldn’t he use this as an opportunity for adventure. Wasn’t that what Xavier always said about roads less traveled ?

              “Where is your cousin’s shop? he asked. And where’s that restaurant of your cousin’s? I’m starving.”

              The little man smiled broadly.

              “Same place. Two brothers. Shop next to restaurant in Todd Mall. You’re lucky! Follow me.”

              #6513

              In reply to: Prompts of Madjourneys

              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                Youssef offered the following quirk: “unwilling magnet for talkative people in need of listening” (setting in a ghost town).

                Setting: A small ghost town in the middle of the Australian outback. The town was once thriving but now only a few stragglers remain, living in old, decrepit buildings. You find yourself in the town square, surrounded by the old post office, the saloon, and a few other ramshackle buildings.

                Quest: Your task is to find the source of the magnetic pull that attracts talkative people to you. You must find the reason behind it and break the spell, so you can continue your journey in peace.

                Direction to investigate: Start by talking to the residents of the town, they may have some information or insights on the strange happenings in the town. Explore the old post office and the saloon, they might hold the key to breaking the spell.

                Characters to engage: The residents of the town, including the old timer at the saloon and the postmaster at the post office.

                Tile to look for: A silver key in the shape of a tongue, symbolizing the power of speech.

                Proof of insert in real life: Take a picture of yourself holding the key, and send it to the game master as proof of completion.

                #6512

                In reply to: Prompts of Madjourneys

                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  Zara offered the following quirk: “unleash my hidden rudeness”

                  Quirk accepted.

                  You find yourself in the bustling streets of an old medieval town. The people around you are going about their business, and you see vendors selling goods, street performers entertaining the crowd, and guards patrolling the area. You hear rumors about a secret society of mischievous tricksters who are known for causing trouble and making people’s lives more interesting.

                  You decide to investigate these rumors and join the society of tricksters, who call themselves the “Rude Ones.” You are tasked with finding the key to their hideout, a tile with a rude message written on it. To do this, you must complete several challenges and pranks around the town, each more mischievous than the last.

                  Your objective is to find the tile, sneak into the Rude Ones’ hideout, and cause as much chaos and trouble as possible. You must also find a way to insert a real-life prank or act of rudeness into your daily life, as proof of your success in the game.

                  Possible directions to investigate:

                  • Talk to the vendors and street performers to gather information about the Rude Ones.
                  • Observe the guards and see if they have any information on the secret society.
                  • Explore the different neighborhoods and see if anyone knows about the hideout.

                  Possible characters to engage:

                  • A mysterious street performer who is rumored to be part of the Rude Ones.
                  • A vendor who has a reputation for being rude to customers.
                  • A guard who is rumored to be in league with the Rude Ones.

                  Look for a tile with a rude message written on it, and capture proof of your real-life prank or act of rudeness. Good luck, and have fun!

                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    A background on the excavated mysteries from Twists and One Return From the Time Capsule.

                    BACKGROUND CONTENT: Focus is on key protagonists:

                    • Clara (a woman in her late 40s, taking care of her father, living the two of them with her Malinois dog VanGogh),
                    • her father Bob (a widowed man with early stage dementia, who can see and speak to his dead wife Jane)
                    • and Nora (nicknamed Alienor, Clara’s friend, a local thrill-seeking artist and amateur archaeologist)

                    in an story of discovery around a mystery of a box (which is a Time Capsule found by Clara’s dog VanGogh) during a time and place of travel restrictions (and possibly time-travel restrictions).

                    Tone of story is curious and engrossed with a mystery of the ages, some supernatural grounded in plausibility, looking for connecting dots with the past sometimes long gone, and a present that slips away in our memories.

                    An encounter with the mysterious Will (possibly Will Tarkin), who seems nice and seductive yet acts unscrupulously and manipulative (seemingly recognising Bob from somewhere), could be the key to a big reveal, and possible links to Jane’s pasts. All while struggling to keep away the nosy neighbour.
                    The conclusion will bring some realisations about the power of memories, the ties between living and dead, and how things never remain buried for long.

                    #6506

                    In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

                    Bert dropped Zara off after breakfast at the start of the Yeperenye trail.  He suggested that she phone him when she wanted him to pick her up, and asked if she was sure she had enough water and reminded her, not for the first time, not to wander off the trail.   Of course not, she replied blithely, as if she’d never wandered off before.

                    “It’s a beautiful gorge, you’ll like it,” he called through the open window, “You’ll need the bug spray when you get to the water holes.”  Zara smiled and waved as the car roared off in a cloud of dust.

                    On the short drive to the start of the trail, Bert had told her that the trail was named after the Yeperenye dreamtime, also known as ‘Caterpillar Dreaming’  and that it was a significant dreamtime story in Aboriginal mythology. Be sure to look at the aboriginal rock art, he’d said.   He mentioned several varieties of birds but Zara quickly forgot the names of them.

                    It felt good to be outside, completely alone in the vast landscape with the bone warming sun. To her surprise, she hadn’t seen the parrot again after the encounter at the bedroom window, although she had heard a squalky laugh coming from a room upstairs as she passed the staircase on her way to the dining room.

                    But it was nice to be on her own. She walked slowly, appreciating the silence and the scenery. Acacia and eucalyptus trees were dotted about and long grasses whispered in the occasional gentle breezes.  Birds twittered and screeched and she heard a few rustlings in the undergrowth from time to time as she strolled along.

                    After a while the rocky outcrops towered above her on each side of the path and the gorge narrowed, the trail winding through stands of trees and open grassland. Zara was glad of the shade as the sun rose higher.

                    Zara water hole

                     

                    The first water hole she came to took Zara by surprise. She expected it to be pretty and scenic, like the photos she’d seen, but the spectacular beauty of the setting and shimmering light somehow seemed timeless and otherwordly.  It was a moment or two before she realized she wasn’t alone.

                    It was time to stop for a drink and the sandwich that one of the twins had made for her, and this was the perfect spot, but she wondered if the man would find it intrusive of her to plonk herself down and picnic at the same place as him.  Had he come here for the solitude and would he resent her appearance?

                    It is a public trail, she reminded herself not to be silly, but still, she felt uneasy.  The man hadn’t even glanced up as far as Zara could tell. Had he noticed her?

                    She found a smooth rock to sit on under a tree and unwrapped her lunch, glancing up from time to time ready to give a cheery wave and shout hi, if he looked up from what he was doing.  But he didn’t look up, and what exactly was he doing? It was hard to say, he was pacing around on the opposite side of the pool, looking intently at the ground.

                    When Zara finished her drink, she went behind a bush for a pee, making sure she would not be seen if the man glanced up. When she emerged, the man was gone.  Zara walked slowly around the water hole, taking photos, and keeping an eye out for the man, but he was nowhere to be seen.  When she reached the place where he’d been pacing looking at the ground, she paused and retraced his steps.  Something small and shiny glinted in the sun catching her eye. It was a compass, a gold compass, and quite an unusual one.

                    Zara didn’t know what to do, had the man been looking for it?  Should she return it to him?  But who was he and where did he go?  She decided there was no point in leaving it here, so she put it in her pocket. Perhaps she could ask at the inn if there was a lost and found place or something.

                    Refreshed from the break, Zara continued her walk. She took the compass out and looked at it, wondering not for the first time how on earth anyone used one to find their way.  She fiddled with it, and the needle kept pointing in the same direction.   What good is it knowing which way north is, if you don’t know where you are anyway? she wondered.

                    With a squalk and a beating of wings, Pretty Girl appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.  “It’s not that kind of compass. You’re supposed to follow the pointer.”

                    “Am I?  But it’s pointing off the trail, and Bert said don’t go off the trail.”

                    “That’s because Bert doesn’t want you to find it,” replied the parrot.

                    Intrigued, Zara set off in the direction the compass was pointing towards.

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