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  • #1762

    In reply to: Synchronicity

    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      :yahoo_oh_go_on:

      a few more number synchs from the gift voucher ..
      i saved it as a pdf and each time acrobat open it, although i did try and alter the settings, it opens it automatically at 153%.
      The invoice number for this booking is 253.
      It was quite cool because I started off with the 123 thing, and then when Emily wrote back and thanked me I noticed that I had sent the voucher to her at 1:23pm

      :yahoo_big_hug:

      #801

      The cold wind was blowing upon the marshes. The atmosphere was damp and dark with threatening gray clouds. A storm was approaching and Asiir was dreaming.

      Her dreams were so strong that they were triggering many emotions in her rider. Since their bonding seven years ago, their link had grown stronger and Lola wouldn’t think of shutting it down even in those uncomfortable moments. They were one.

      Lola was feeling a menace, some undefined threat coming with the storm, as if the storm was just the visible counterpart of what was preparing. In those moments, Lola couldn’t help but think of her family and her village… Her fist grasped tightly the grip of the sword she was holding.

      Everyone was killed when she was nine. Her dragon wasn’t fully developed at that time and couldn’t help her save her people. All Asiir could do was shield her from them as she was shielding herself, not even thinking of it.

      She sighed deeply, releasing the pressure of the storm and of the dreams. She’d learnt not to hold on the powerful emotional responses but to open herself as a channel of her dragon’s dreams. All she could do was let the energy flow through her. Was it Asiir creating the storm or the storm disturbing Asiir’s dreams? She wasn’t aware of the answer yet, but at times it had bothered her to think that her dragon could cause “bad things” to happen.

      A chilly breeze and a surge of electricity. She grinned impishly.
      It was the time of her lesson.

      You’re late master. she thought to the shadowy figure behind her. She was feeling something different that day in the presence. You’re not alone. I can feel a different energy with you today…

      The dragon growled in her agitated sleep.

      Your emotions are dragon drenched again, Lola. I know you consider it a proof of your connection with your beast, but it may be far more damaging than you think.

      Lola had felt a twinge at how Samira had called her friend, she was feeling her emotions rise dangerously to the point which she had learned she could not control herself. She had always wondered if Samira was seriously considering dragons as beasts or if she was teasing her, especially since she had let the connection develop in such a way.

      You’re going to have a new teacher…

      Lola’s heartbeat accelerated slightly, so slightly, but she could feel her mentor’s smile upon her interrogations. Was she leaving? She’d always dreaded such a moment. She felt the wry expression of Samira.

      I’m not going away… you need a training that I can’t give you. You need to learn how to ride properly over your bond and not get consumed by it, and Noraam can teach you that.

      A strange impression of connection with the new energy flew in her, making her feel quite uneasy. Such an intimacy was unusual with another human energy. Or was he human?

      A sudden surge of energy made her wince. She turned to her mentor and was surprised to only see Samira in her stout armor. She could feel the strength of the other energy but she couldn’t give him a form. She was feeling nudged gently from many directions at the same time and realized that she was afraid of loosing her bond with her friend. Wasn’t she trusting her bond? Another chill, and the rain started falling.

      You won’t really need all that Samira taught you during these last 4 years

      The inner voice was almost inaudible, but still she could feel it was not a voice and that the communication was going through another pathway. The vegetation of the marshes and few rocks were shifting to an unnatural yellow tint, and the faint glow around her teacher was growing in intensity. Actually, all the objects around her was beginning to glow, the limits of their shapes were collapsing.

      Lola was sill feeling the link with Asiir but it was thinning down in such an unfamiliar way.

      I’m going to help you remove the veils that Samira helped you put on your consciousness when you first met. But first you need to renew the link with yourself.

      She heard a vague sound of steel on the ground… had she lost her sword? She couldn’t feel her body. She couldn’t move as she was used to… but was it still something to move? The face of a man was forming in the energy patterns of the glowing clouds. Was he close or far away? Was he huge or of human size? Was she massive?

      A pounding sound in the distance of her inner ear… a familiar call but she was still so far.

      #800

      Pondering the significance of his dream , Franiel set out again. It was the third morning since he had woken to find the chalice missing, and he was no closer to knowing where he was going. Yet he had taken the advice of the BBL and felt all the better for it in his spirit.

      Morning! Franiel called a greeting to an old woman who was passing by, delighted to see signs of life, and wondering if it meant he was near a Village. Might I ask where you are taking that basket of eggs?

      A good morning to you young man. Certainly you may ask, I am taking these into the Village Market to sell.

      And where might that be, it is not the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon by any strange chance? asked Franiel, thinking nothing would surprise him anymore.

      The old woman looked at him in astonishment. The Village of Chard Dam Jarfon! You surely have a very long journey before you if you are heading for the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon. No indeed, I am going to the Village of Chard Dut Jep, an hour or so from here.

      Franiel considered this for a moment. And if I keep heading the way I am going, and from whence you have started, where might I be going?

      The old woman hesitated and looked at Franiel with an odd expression in her dark eyes.

      I am not sure if you want to do that, for this is a very long and lonely way you are heading. Unless you are going to the old Chesterhope mansion, and there’s not many who would do be doing that anymore.

      How very interesting, said Franiel, rather intrigued. Is that where you have come from Old Woman?

      The old woman gazed searchingly at Franiel for a moment before answering.

      Aye it is, I work for Madame Chesterhope. I am the only one left now and it has been like that for many a long year, save for old Derwent of course, him who minds the gardens, but he’s not right in the mind that one and Madame keeps him on out of the kindness of her heart, said the Old Woman, and Franiel sensed some deep sadness in her voice, but in the next breath it was gone and he wondered if it was a trick of his mind.

      Why don’t you come to the Village with me? she asked. Are you looking for work? There’s plenty would take on a fine young man such as yourself.

      Would your Madame Chesterhope be looking for someone such as myself by any chance? asked Franiel, For I have nowhere in particular I am headed, and I am in need of some way of keeping myself. And as he spoke the words out loud he found himself wondering at them, yet he felt such an odd sense of anticipation inside himself, as though perhaps there was some new adventure to be had after all.

      Again the old woman looked at Franiel appraisingly for a long time. Eventually she spoke.

      When you get to the crossways turn left and keep heading that way for 2 miles till you see the Chesterhope sign. It’s an up and down path for a ways to get to the mansion from there. When you get there, it would be best to keep in mind all is not as it might seem. I will say no more and bid you farewell, for I have still got a ways to go.

      Perhaps I will see you later then! Franiel called after her.

      She turned and looked back at him. Perhaps.

      #794

      Franiel dreamed of strange eggs being dropped from giant birdlike creatures in the sky. Some of the eggs exploded into flashes of light in the inky darkness of the night sky. He fell to the ground and hid his face in his arms and waited. He could hear the highpitched noise of the eggs falling, getting louder and louder as they approached the ground, and he knew his life was in the hands of the gods as to whether or not he was destroyed.

      At last all became quiet. He raised himself cautiously and began to examine the earth to see what damage had been caused. The dog of Leonard accompanied him, yet all of a sudden it ran from him. All else was forgotten as Franiel followed the dog, fearing for it’s well being.

      As if in pursuit of a hare, the dog ran and ran, eventually coming to a large mansion and running in through the open door. The walls and floors of the mansion were made of marble, ornate pillars and statues graced the wide entrance way. The mansion appeared to be deserted, yet Franiel had no thought for that, only of bringing the dog to safety.

      The dog disappeared into one of the many rooms of the palatial hallway with Franiel in hot pursuit. The room was empty save for a large Bengal Tiger, a magnificent and regal creature, radiating a strange power from it’s shiny yellow eyes. The tiger was about to take the small dog in it’s mouth, and Franiel grabbed a branch from a tree which was lying on the ground (and within his dream he wondered how the branch came to be there) and fearlessly placed it in the mouth of the beast. The branch was woefully inadequate, a mere twig in the jaws of this powerful beast, yet it distracted the tiger sufficiently for the dog to run to safety.

      Now Franiel faced the beast alone, perplexed, yet strangely unafraid.

      #751

      Why you supercilious little prout! said the Mummy

      Steady on Sasha, I don’t think I deserve that. I am a great believer in personal choice. You chose to be part of my experiments didn’t you? Did anyone force you to come here? His voice started to raise petulently. Are you a victim Sasha? Just because one small thing went wrong, an accident, no more and no less.

      If it wasn’t for these damn bandages I would laugh.

      Dr Bronkelhampton threw his hands in the air in vexation. Try and see the big picture Sasha dear. How many times have I told you now? My God we have been through this over and over again. Are you listening Sasha? All you can think about is yourself and your own petty little life. You are dead, you need to accept this and move on.

      Silence.

      Sasha? … Talk to me Sasha dear one.

      Dr Bronkelhampton? Nurse Bellamy tapped lightly on the office door, and entered cautiously. She could hear Chris talking to himself, again. It was nothing new, he spent hours closeted in his office lately. Though today she started in shocked surprise when she saw him, the yellow wig from the early days of the clinic was perched precariously on top of his bald head, garish make-up roughly applied, yet not hiding the dark blue circles under his blood-shot eyes.

      He glared at her. Can you not see I am with a client, Nurse Bellamy?

      She cast her eyes reflexively around the small office, although she did not need to look. It was bare save for a pot plant and that dreadful mummy propped up in the corner of the room.

      I am worried about you, Chris.

      He slammed his fist on the desk and turned away from her, staring moodily out the window.

      Nurse Bellamy’s face reddened with emotion, she struggled to hold back her tears as all the anxiety of the last week threatened to overwhelm her. She reminded herself of the words of her dear nursing tutor Edwardo Lemenox. Always remember your calling as a nurse. When the road seems difficult, take a deep breath and remind yourself you are perfect.

      She took a deep breath.

      I am sorry, I mean Dr Bronkelhampton … I need to inform you that three new clients are expected tomorrow …. and we have two here waiting for their treatment to start … and I can’t entertain them for much longer, they are getting restless. Veranassessee is up to no good, and, Nurse Bellamy pursed her lips for a moment in annoyance .. and now she has a gentleman friend here.

      Dr Bronkelhampton turned towards her quickly, the wig falling off in the process, She has a gentleman friend? Here on the island? Who?

      Nurse Bellamy’s face reddened even more as she remembered her encounter with the drop-dead gorgeous stranger, the way he had looked into her eyes as he asked where he might find Veranassessee, goodness, she had nearly dropped her coconuts.

      #1703

      In reply to: Synchronicity

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Coincidentally, I saved this picture of a wedding cake yesterday.

        #2143

        In reply to: Story Timeline and Map

        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Another step for the maps and timeline, is that the dataset is now available in the form of a shared spreadsheet from which the timeline and maps directly query, so that it’s not only more easily editable, but also more easily updated…

          If you are interested in being able to modify it, just notify me. (The usual faithful contributors should be able to do so by clicking “Edit” at the bottom of the sheet and registering with their gmail adress)
          Just to reassure the anxious, the revisions are saved, so it’s not really possible to mess it all completely ;)

          A feed of the data is also available , for what it’s worth…

          #689
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            These are MY eggs! Nobody touches my eggs!
            Oh come on, you’re not gonna make these ostrich eggs hatch Cathy… Better have them made into a nice big omelet for our guests… Fleur said with a tentative smile.
            And why use MY eggs for that?! Moooom, she’s trying to steal my eggs…

            What’s with all that fuss here? a coarse, yet sensual female voice said in the background of the kitchen.
            Mom, she wants to make an omelet with the eggs that granddad gave me…
            Calm down Catherine, will you… Is that true Fleur?
            Err… Madam Wrick, I suppose it was only a stupid joke… Thing is that wasn’t such a bad idea… There will be quite a few guests tonight, and… she began to falter as the eyebrows of Dorean Wrick were taking a more severe look. Err… I’m sorry, M’am, I’ll send Raster fetch some food for a nice meat pie, will it be nice?
            Perfect. That settles the matter then… Catherine, go back to your room, and let Fleur work. I’ll send you a maid to help you be prepared for our guests arrival.
            Yes, Mum.

            What a silly idea Theobald, her father have had, to give her step-daughter those eggs for her birthday… Big funny green eggs. He’d said they were ostrich eggs, but there were no ostrich in Mexico, as far as she knew. Of course, now the little girl’s only idea was to have the birds hatch and to mount them and ride in the slopes of Ireland.
            This family was definitely insane, Dorean was thinking.
            At least, she had thought her own branch of the family tree had been spared by the folly of her relatives and their attraction for occult and intangible things, but with that odd gift, it seemed to her more than likely that her father had followed the steps of his wricked brother… Or perhaps it was only an old man’s way of passing time. But knowing her father down-to-earth nature, that was not like him. He didn’t do things out of a whim, and there was probably more than met the eye having to do with the funny eggs…

            A few days ago, shortly after New Year’s eve and stepping into year 2034, she’d had received an unexpected parcel from her cousin, Sean Doran. A couple of wrapped books, he was asking her to keep in store for him. She always had liked her cousin, though they had only met two or three times when they were children. Thing was, family matters were more a wrickage than anything else, and they had barely kept in touch over the years.
            She had distractedly opened the big ornate leather-bound books only to discover they were blank. What was the purpose of all of this, she didn’t know. But unlike most people, Dorean wasn’t interested in others’ businesses. She would keep the books, whatever they meant.

            And she had more pressing matters now.
            Her guest were coming. Elvira and her demented husband were moving back, and were due to arrive tonight after a rather long expatriation in the lands of Russia. Having met that strange and impressive individual, the perspective of getting away in a foreign land leaving all the past behind, all of this had most probably saved Elvira from her depressive mood…
            But she had been so isolated from her past that Dorean suspected that these almost thirty years abroad would have changed her profoundly.

            #1882
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              Tracy: there is no righteously indignant icon
              Francie: yes, well if there were, i would use it!
              Tracy: I meant all
              Tracy: slip of the tongue
              Francie: oh well thats alright then, i am mollified
              Tracy: hahahahhahahahahahahha
              Tracy: maniacally
              Tracy: maybe I should change my name
              Francie: hahaah what to?
              Francie: molly, molly fried
              Tracy: Molly Baloney
              Francie: mollocks
              Francie: yes! do it
              Tracy: hahaha no
              Francie: no well seriously, what to?
              Tracy: I will be Molly Maloney and you be Betty Mollocks
              Francie: ahahhhaha
              Francie: doubt it
              Tracy: Baloney
              Tracy: not Maloney
              Francie: oh no i feel a new character coming on
              Francie: oh its okay, you can’t get in
              Francie: :yahoo_whew:
              Tracy: hahah would you please introduce them into the story under my name
              Francie: thats why!
              Tracy: Molly Boloney and Betty Mollocks
              Francie: you will just have to save it up
              Tracy: well I might forget it, just make a note of it for me, as if you were Becky jotting down a clue
              Francie: okay i will post it in random ramblings okay
              Tracy: ok, just paste this part of the chat as a comment
              Francie: hang on i will do it now
              Tracy: no, this chat part in story
              Francie: no i refuse
              Tracy: thank you dearest Franci. You may print that too
              Francie: I will do it in ramblings or nothing
              Tracy: ok
              Francie: take your pick
              Tracy: thanks
              Francie: ahahahahaha
              Tracy: ramblings
              Francie: okay hang on
              Tracy: you have got me by the balls, thats why
              Francie: it is quite rambly, i think it goes rather well
              Tracy: yes, you are right as usual
              Francie: where shall i do it to and from?
              Tracy: um
              Tracy: start there up til here
              Tracy: right here

              #641

              AN EXCHANGE WHICH TAKES PLACE ON THE STREETS OF LONDON DURING THE REIGN OF QUEEN VICTORIA:

              ‘Ere!, I saw you take that.

              Let go of me, I didn’t do nothing.

              I aint blind and I aint stupid, lad. I saw you put your thieving hand in this ladies handbag. Now what you got?

              Nothing. Just this coin. It’s for me mam, she’s at home poorly, dying, and we aint got no food. ‘Ere, take it. it won’t happen again.

              You’re right it won’t happen again because you’ll be going to the gallows I’ll be bound. I know your face. You’re one of them Magpies. I’ve ‘ad my eye on you for some time. You’re clever at covering tracks I’ll grant you that, but not clever enough it seems.

              Look Mr Constable, I don’t know nothing about no magpies, they thieving birds aint they? It was for me poor old mam, I swear to God, if I be lying may ‘e strike me down dead.

              No more blasphemy from you. I expect the good Lord’s got better things to do than spend his time striking down lying thieves. Thing is you’ve been been caught thieving from this lady and it’s not looking too good for you right now.

              And I will thank you Ma’am for your courageous co-operation. said Constable Marshall O’Riley, turning galantly to the finely dressed woman, clutching her handbag tightly to her person. You have been victim of a heinous crime, and I would wish to trouble your gentle self no more with this matter. But I will thank you for your details and be assured I shall call upon you should we need you to give further evidence.

              No sooner had the lady gone than Constable O’Riley turned to the young thief.

              Now you listen to me carefully, young lad. I have an idea that, if you play your hand right, might save you from hanging.

              I’m listening.

              You and me is not two figures to be seen together, except for somewhere private. I want you to talk to the one what leads your little gang. I have an idea that could be of mutual benefit. I will let you go now, and you be here tomorrow same time, and I will tell you where the meeting will be held. I’ve ‘ad my eyes on your gang for quite some time, all I needed to convict you was to catch you red ‘anded, and I got that now. So If you ain’t here, I know where to find you lot, and I swear I’ll drag you in front of the magistrate. Do as I say though and we could all be laughing.

              #620
              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                The Story Vincentius told to Arona

                I was seven when my father died. He leapt into a swollen river to help a neighbor who was drowning. He saved the neighbor but could not save himself. Everyone called him a hero but my mother called him a stupid fool. She was filled with sadness for her loss, and anger that he would leave her in such a way. I remember she got a pair of big scissors from the sewing box and cut off her long hair. For weeks after that I would see her move her hand to brush her long hair away and suddenly realise it was no longer there and I would see her go still. Then her body would slump and she would stand there looking lost and not knowing what to do. One day her heart just stopped beating. They said she died of grief but I think it was that life had become an empty hole that just got deeper and darker. I don’t think that is the same as grief, but maybe it is. My three older sisters and I cried and cried when my father died, but I never once saw her cry.

                When my mother died we had to cry in secret, because my Grandmother Naja moved in to take care of us. She didn’t believe in crying. There were many things she didn’t believe in. Grandmother Naja ate like a bird, looked like a piece of old leather and moved like a skittery rabbit.

                Vincentius she would say to me, peering at me shortsightedly, you need to get bigger. Your parents are dead and you are now the man of the house. Every day she would poke me in the ribs and say Vincentius, you need to get bigger”. Every time she poked me I remembered all over again that I was not good enough and that my parents were dead.

                One day she sent Taffy, the second oldest sister out to the garden to get a cabbage. But there were no cabbages left the garden. Well! said Grandmother Naja, I can’t cook cabbage broth without any cabbage. So she gave Taffy a coin and sent my sisters into the Village to buy a cabbage from the market.

                I begged to go too.

                You are too small and you are too slow! said my sisters

                Eventually though they gave in to my pleading.

                I have often wondered if I knew the events that day would bring, if I would have begged so hard to go, mused Vincentius

                to be continued …

                #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.

                #1394
                Jib
                Participant

                  Does the world alzheimer work? or the word puppies or the word house and holidays… mmm buy a new car? or save money?
                  or monkey island? the big mama is drunk and she gives you soup…

                  #414

                  Mmmm, Captain,… isn’t that legend a bit long-winded? Tomkin had asked to Captain Bone.

                  It had been six nights now that the Captain had told bits of that legend to Tomkin, and even if it was entertaining, Tomkin was more and more impatient to get back to meatier stuff, like galleons full of ancient magical treasures, corsairs from the Warring Kingdoms coasts, strange unknown races from far-off lands… that would be more mouth-watering than this endless legend…

                  Captain Bone had laughed.

                  — Aaaaah, Tomkin… of course you know I like to tell long stories, and make them longer each time I recall them, but you see, there is also a point in all of that adventure. Mævel’s story is also the story of all of us in a way. Of course, I could tell you how it ends, but in a way it never really ends. More important is for you to see it unfold and that you appreciate the unfolding. The ending is not important in a way. Each and every time this story is recalled, it is different, because it adapts to what is happening right now. Do you see?
                  — So what is the point of telling me that story? It was supposed to tell me something about this strange knotted object, but I don’t see any link.
                  — Ahahahaha, the point is precisely that Tomkin. I am telling you my story, but this object makes you hear your own story through my words.

                  Now, Tomkin Sharple was squatting on the sand near the bonfire lit by Badul’s crew, and he was recalling the words from the Captain. At that time, when he didn’t know a thing about that strange magical object, he had not understood a thing of what the Captain had said.
                  But now, it started to make sense, some sense at least. Each time the Captain had told him bits of the legend, Tomkin had been fidgeting the strange object, making the Captain smile. Perhaps the object’s magic was not only acting as a translation device…
                  There was something more about it. He was no longer sure that the Captain’s story had been what he was recalling. Perhaps it was completely different, and he had translated it…
                  Still, the object had apparently helped him understand what Badul and his men wanted, so it was translating truthfully. But what was a faithful translation?

                  Then, a flash came into Tomkin’s mind. The Captain had given the object to him. He’d said it was about connections. Being connected.
                  Till then, Tomkin had been the only one to touch it. He had not even revealed the source of his gift to Badul.
                  But in the Captain’s case, both of them had been touching it. In sharing that link, they had extended trust to each other, and somehow, they had been mirrors for each other. Perhaps that was what Captain Bone meant when he said that Tomkin was hearing his own story through the Captain’s words.

                  Tomkin laid down on the warm sand, looking at the clear starry night.

                  ***

                  — The legend of Mævel — (Part VI)

                  Inside the warm burrow, Mævel found a bed of dry leaves and tender moss. She could see some light from the moon, coming through holes in the ground, which were bringing in some fresh air too. Cuddling comfortably into the makeshift bed, she started to sleep peacefully, waiting for her friend the blue fox to come back.

                  ***

                  Half-asleep on the beach, Tomkin was wondering… What had happened the next morning… This was fuzzy in this memory, as if the events were moving and reorganising themselves. All that he remember was that Mævel had met the blue fox, but there were myriads of possible events, and all of them were possible, dancing now in front of him.
                  He could chose any of them… But, would that make the story the same?
                  Then he recalled that it was his own story… So why make it difficult then…

                  The voice of Captain Bone was resounding in his ear “You find value in hardships, and value is important to you and our kind. In these lands full of magic, we could just do anything, but somehow you’ll find that rare are the people who constantly use magic. Because when magic is used to make things happen instantaneously, it shifts everything around it to accommodate the changes asked by the summoner of the magic. And it can be overwhelming when too big are the differences between the too states, as we are accustomed to live within a continuity. That’s why I tell you to enjoy the ride of that legend.
                  Think of it… You could be Emperor of all Lands if you knew how to use magic for such a feat. But would you do that instantaneously? Slim chances. You wouldn’t know how to behave as an Emperor, and on top of that, you probably would find the new aspect of you who is an Emperor to be overwhelming to your present aspect of little Tomkin.”

                  Okay, Tomkin said… No need to skip directly to the last part… she meets the blue fox in his den, and Mævel learns about the curse of the fox.

                  ***

                  — Oh, really? Mævel was saying
                  — Yes, I was a bit of a fool… the blue fox was telling her. But, the silver lining is that there is a way to counteract the curse. But I will need your help again, if you want.
                  — I want to help you.
                  — Fine. You know about Shaint Lejüs Festival?
                  — Mmm, yes, my parents told me about that. It’s the Day of the Forgotten, isn’t it?
                  — and of the Accursed Ones.
                  — Oh…
                  — That special day of the year, the Gates of Lejüs’ Realm are opened and Forgotten and Accursed Ones are given a chance to be Remembered or Graced.
                  — Every year? Why then aren’t all of them Remembered?
                  — Mostly because the Living Ones dread this day. They are the only ones to be able to free the Demanders, and they quickly felt haunted by the Demanders. So they did rituals to keep the Demanders away from them, as certainly your human parents did.
                  — Yes, I remember now…
                  — There is another reason actually. Forgotten Ones can only be Remembered when they recover their true name, and only a strong bond like love or some potent magic can force it out of Lejüs’ graps.
                  — And Accursed Ones?
                  — For them to be Graced, they need to do one pure act of altruism.
                  — A simple act?
                  — Don’t be fooled, it’s not as simple as it seems. See, I tried to rescue a woman who was drowning herself into the river, but that hunter thought I was attacking her… The fact was that she was willing to be Forgotten, and that my act was not purely altruistic.
                  — How so? You probably saved her life?
                  — Yes, but that was not what she wanted, and when she cried that I let go of her, I only wanted her out of the waters, because of me…
                  — I understand. And how can I help?
                  — One altruistic act for me would be to help a Forgotten One to be Remembered. That’s what they ask for, but it’s difficult for them to get past the barriers of the Living Ones.
                  Shaint Lejüs Festival is tomorrow…
                  — Yes, have as much rest as you need, Mæ. We will see tomorrow what will occur…

                  #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:.

                    #370

                    — The legend of Mævel — (Part III)

                    When the blue fox had disappeared, deep into the woods, Mævel was left wondering if all of that had only been a dream. Perhaps it was just a dream, and something that would make her parents raise their shoulders in dismay.
                    Especially since she had lost their gift carelessly they would say, the little pearl white ribbon…

                    She picked up the clothes that were left hanging to dry up in the wind, and came back to the little house.

                    Of course, her father Jorg noticed that she was not wearing the ribbon, but he was not much of a question asker, and things were or were not, and analyzing them was unnecessary for him. But of course, Ilga noticed it too, and she felt sad for poor Jorg who had endured so many sacrifices to buy the little ribbon that Mævel was no longer wearing. She wanted an explanation! Was it no longer to Mævel’s tastes, had Mævel lost it?

                    So Mævel, who could not lie to anybody, told them her encounter with Blohmrik, the cursed god in the woods, in the shape of a wounded blue fox… and at each of her words, was seeing their faces more and more disconcerted.
                    Their poor girl, who was already so different, had completely lost it,… ribbon and all that was left of common sense in her.

                    So they locked her up in the bedroom, that she was now occupying alone, as all of her brothers and sisters had left. Just to save her from herself, and see if that would help her gain some more solid sense of reality.

                    Mævel understood her parents, but she was deeply contrite that they could not understand what she had lived. Mævel was still doubting the reality of her meeting the blue fox, so she asked for some sign from the Gods before going to sleep, to see clearly.

                    That night, Mævel dreamt of a dark-haired young man with a white diadem1 around his head, dressed in a cerulean blue tunic and wearing a sword. He was enshrouded in a warm light and as she took the hand he was extending, they were carried away by a springing scented wind into a meadow of multicoloured flowers, some of which she had not even known could exist. She had felt at home.
                    When she woke up, in the middle of the night, Mævel was transfixed by the beautiful soothing dream. She could not remember much more, but he had told her something. That there was deep magic in her, and it would help her find her true home, but that she would have to gain back her true name from the Elder God who had took it from her.

                    She quickly took her decision. She knew she had to search for the blue fox in the forest. But how could she escape the locked bedroom? She was starting to feel desperate again, but she remembered that there was some magic in her, and how she had felt it deeply true in her dream.
                    As she was focusing on the warm expanding feeling of her dream, an old rusty key materialized in her hand.

                    1 diadem: [ ˈdī-ə-ˌdem (dəm) ] from Greek diadēma, from diadein to bind around; akin to Sanskrit dāman rope — was originally a white ribbon, ending in a knot and two strips that were placed often on the shoulders, that surrounded the head of the king to denote his authority.

                    #329

                    Becky wondered why Finn kept calling her Dory. It didn’t matter though, it was always fun chatting with Fiona (or Finn as she now liked to be called), and Finn was always calling her different names. Becky rather liked it.

                    The thing is, Finn, Dory tapped into the keboard, when they’d finished laughing, As everyone knows, There Are No Secrets.

                    finn_tastic57: HHMMM :yahoo_thinking:

                    becdorsansilli: :yahoo_at_wits_end:

                    finn_tastic57: This is a clue, you know. We should be able to just ‘know’, you know, just access the info :yahoo_idk:

                    becdorsansilli: I wonder if these whispers are secret?

                    finn_tastic57: I guess the group admin can access them

                    becdorsansilli: well
                    becdorsansilli: we wil go public to save him a possible moral dilemma :yahoo_rofl:

                    Becky was even calling herself Dory now, she noticed. That Finn was a bad influence.

                    #323

                    — The legend of Mævel — (Part II)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                    #311
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Becky sat there horrified. Her computer had crashed before she could save her lengthy entry to the plays script.

                      #236
                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

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

                        Magic magic magic magic she hummed to herself

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

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

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

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

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

                        Ooops that was rather loud

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

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

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

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

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

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

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