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Viewing 20 results - 221 through 240 (of 299 total)
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  • #2885
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Captain Yang Lang, or Goat as they called him, had reluctantly anchored the Aqua Luna at the Long Poon port to resupply for the next month. The Aqua Luna was his pride, an old pirate ship improved with modern tech, with sails bright vermilion, and polished deck of teck wood, smelling of the forests and brine. Years earlier, he’d vowed to stay off land as much as possible, and use her to remain away from the current lunacy that sprayed over the lands. But strange tides and surges on the ocean had warned him that it seemed to spray further than he’d expected.
      To get to the bottom of it, he was having an appointment at the basement of an old derelict building, on the first floor of which artists had setup an organization named the Long Poon House of Stories; funnily, the basement was full of other kinds of stories. It had served as a training facility back when the Brits had dominion over the seas. It was now recycled into an archive facility for the Surge Team. You usually wouldn’t notice that, but if you paid attention, the bag of sponges sold at the Sinese medicine store full of dried animals, dogs legs and whatnots was unmistakable.

      #1293

      In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves

      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        “Are you flaming daft? I ain’t giving no bloody stranger my precious poodlekins!” The woman grabbed the poodle and clutched it protectively to her ample bosom.

        Luigi sighed. He found other people somewhat baffling, and a tad unaccommodating, to say the least. He searched back in his memory, but could not for the life of him recall where the ointment originally came from

        … a nice lady gave it to him? …

        No, it was gone; there was just a gaping hole in his mind. He pondered the matter for a few moments, then decided he was done pondering and would be better served giving his attention to the light ship, which had also disappeared.

        “How odd” he muttered.

        “I beg your flaming pardon! I’m not the bloody odd one I’ll ‘ave you bloody know … ‘ere, I know what this is.” The woman’s face lit up and she leaned forward provocatively, “You’re making some of them bloody advances at me ain’t you?”

        #1318

        In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves

        benjaminbenjamin
        Participant

          Tal turned on the invisible-izer, and smiled as he enjoyed the idea that his spaceship would never be noticed by any human or animal alike.

          He exited the ship, walked a few paces and then suddenly halted in his tracks.

          Directly in front of him was no other than a large sink hole.

          What the Kraken? he thought. There must have been some major Earth changes since his interstellar space traveling. Good thing he didn’t land a few feet to the north.

          Tal clicked a small button on his nifty zinger-space-belt, which enabled the detection of any Earth anomalies.

          The gauge was reading off the charts!

          #1519

          In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves

          TracyTracy
          Participant

            “Luigi, collecting his thoughts as the calamity was now over, realized that the the scooter seemed uninjured. Luigi smiled. Just then, off in the distance, was a loud hroooooming noise, and Luigi turned toward the odd event. He pondered if it was Tal,and his light ship, back from his interstellar journey to the unknown dimension of Pk301B.”

            #2757

            In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves

            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              The holes and cracks had awoken ancient creatures from the fabled hollow worlds of myths…
              Dragons 🐛, sand worms, giant spiders, :spider: T-rexes and some said even mummies… :mummy: 😱
              In fact, the cruise ship’s demise in Adryattic was mostly due to a kraken-on-crack attack.

              #2756

              In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves

              TracyTracy
              Participant

                It had been several days since the Sinstringia sank not far from Rome and Luigi’s niece Flinella was still missing. She had been on board the cruise ship, a last minute decision to take the trip. When the police had banged on the door of her apartment the previous week, she fled through the bedroom window. She started to run, and realized it was attracting attention, so she slowed her pace and projected the impression that blue and white night shirts were the latest fashion. The slower pace calmed her somewhat, until she realized that the latest fashion energy she was projecting was also attracting attention, so she pulled some plastic bags out of a rubbish container and projected bag lady energy instead, and became virtually invisible.

                #2825

                In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens

                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Racy Mc Tartshall had been absent for so long that it was hardly any wonder that nobody remembered her, despite the importance of her mission which had long since been forgotten. Mc Tart, as she was affectionately known (or would have been if anyone had remembered her) was a tartist of the highest calibre, consistently producing hugh class tart (which was of course three grades higher than high, and 2 grades higher than hagh, and so forth). Mc Tart had been investigating Nosebook, sniffing out potential distortions, claritortions, connectortions and myriad other contortions, for the distortium, claritortium, connectortium and contortium, respectively ~ focusing mainly on the connectortium, naturally enough.

                  While researching something or other that was no doubt relevant at the time but had long been forgotten, Mc Tart met Alfred in the Library. ““Aha! Alfred in the Library with a Book, was it!” she exclamined. “I knew I’d find a clue here”. “It wasn’t me!” he retorted, aghast. “It was Albert in the Chapless Pants club with a Rolling Pin!” Mc Tart, feigning an all knowing expression, replied “Ahhhh” and made a mental note to investigate.

                  Mental notes, known as m’otes for short, floated like wisps in the air currents and occasionally sparkled in the sunbeams, although more often than not, they clumped together under the bed in bunny shapes, slowly dying of boredom. Thankfully the sheer pointlessness of mental notes ~ m’otes ~ made not a whit of difference in the grand scheme of the connectortium investigation because of the abundant nature of Fluce’s ~ (fucking lucky chance encounters), notwithstanding the heated debates continuing in the Distortium about the precise nature of Fluce’s and their relationship to M’Otes ~ or not, depending on the point one wished to make at any particular time.

                  And so it was by Fluce that Mc Tart met Blithe, Heck and Walty in “le Tunnel” one dreary grey Noremember afternoon. There was nothing to suggest, on first inspection, any thing of interest for the Connectortium mission, but Mc Tart was not discouraged. “Many a moth maketh maths marbles” she reminded herself as she perused the nenu (which, the reader will deduce, is a hugher class of menu).

                  [link: high class]

                  #2468
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Dear OW’s and Favourite Daughter,

                    I had a dream last night. It went like this . . . . I was in the garden when I noticed an alien space ship coming down from a great height above me. It was humming, humm, hummm, humming. Like that. There was a smell of old cabbages and kitty litter.

                    It landed a few feet away from me. It was like a saucer and coloured olive green. A door opened on the underside and a ladder lowered. The ladder was made of wood, which surprised me. The aliens started down the ladder. They had no arms or legs. Just heads. They came down the ladder using their lips.

                    There were eight of them. The leader (at least I took it to be their leader as he had the biggest head) approached me. He said “Where can we get some hats ?”

                    Next thing I remember I was in the back of a pickup truck eating a prawn cocktail. Next to me sitting on some old sacks was the head alien slurping down uncooked carrots direct from the tin.

                    He said to me “We would like you to make a tv commercial for us”.

                    Then I woke up.

                    I’m afraid to report this encounter with the third kind to the authorities in case they just laugh at me.

                    I need your advice on this one. What should I do ?

                    Uncle Garnet

                    #2077

                    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Bloody ancient, apparently, meaning Harvey noticed. “Ask needed, knows able”~ Green eye smile creature. “Morning, Elizabeth! Face started!” Surely fishes herself often ~ creating worserversity odd teleport head fellowship.

                      #2075

                      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Although done,
                        Stranger, mother, everyone, creature
                        looks attention:
                        Girl, perfect black.
                        Ask, perhaps himself free?
                        Smile rude.
                        Notice Leormn Fellowship Idea,
                        “Eye write”
                        Box teleport.
                        Heard wonder, let Sharon replied.
                        Random asked matter:
                        Strange sudden (usually inside) particular finally… surely feeling sound, following home… clear…

                        Realized, somewhat
                        Hear happy laugh
                        Mention hot ones
                        Magic voice
                        :creating_magic:

                        #2068

                        In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                        ÉricÉric
                        Keymaster

                          reminded cow sharon harvey strange times
                          dark flow magpie cave certainly giving help
                          somewhat fellowship continued choose
                          certain nobody within otherwise

                          #1317

                          In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

                          ÉricÉric
                          Keymaster

                            January 21 st, 2010

                            About Worlds creating and dreamwalking

                            Has it occurred to you that your current technologies [such as social websites] are more than a little reflection of what you are doing as essence.
                            It is more indeed, and very useful as an analogy.
                            You have, for one, certainly noticed how different the “feel” of certain of these “sites” is, even when you are most of the time surrounded by the same set of friends and relationships? Yes you have.

                            Let us call these sites “dimensions”. Yes, it sounds familiar, doesn’t it. You all participate in some manner into these, and you all have persona of yourself in various of these. They compete for your attention, and some of them are more popular than others —these are the ones which offer you the most fulfilling experience, not necessarily the most pleasant.

                            In many ways, you connect as essence through these dimensions, which reveal aspects of your personalities, aspects that are not always visible or noticed in a direct interaction. When you congregate through these sites, you also start to realize, you have access to all of the others as essence, either through proxy of friends, or by direct interaction. You are all connected.

                            They all have different rules, or shall we say, conventions; you can do certain things, certain others you cannot (or not yet), and others, you can, but they are not well tolerated or accepted.
                            We let you do all the fine analogies, you mostly get the idea. The technical rules behind those sites are like your mass beliefs. They are helpful to maneuver your “avatar” —that focus of yourself inside the system— and without them, there would simply be no interest, no interaction, no experience.
                            Of course, these beliefs can be bent ; with applications, made by these people wanting to develop new systems plugged into the architecture, to offer new functions, or interactions with others of these sites or dimensions.

                            The creators of these dimensions are similar to dreamwalkers; some of them are bent on technology and development of the system at its core, but not all of them. Many in fact come with other intents, such as making the dimension a more beautiful, interactive, attractive or pleasant place. They all work together to bring the experience of the envisioned dimension to the other essences —and at some point, they also choose, themselves to interact, as a focus, fully part of their created dimension.

                            Having that in mind, would it not seem natural that you would integrate more functionalities to these sites, if they respond to the promises of keeping focuses interested? What you call “upgrades” are in fact a major part of the conception of these dimensions, and occur quite frequently, either driven by popular demand, or by technical need.
                            Such is the nature of the shift you are experiencing, which is above all a tremendous upgrade [of mass beliefs] towards a more integrated experience, without simply dropping the current dimension for another.

                            We would finally like you to notice also that even if the biggest of these dimensions are calling for a great part of your attention, you also are attracted daily to countless others, little sites and areas, the purpose of which is different, but not less significant to your whole self.

                            #2067

                            In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                            ÉricÉric
                            Keymaster

                              nonsense help remembered creating
                              fellowship yurick worry prof class obvious
                              create details wanted mention stay
                              assignment moment family god giving
                              somewhat

                              #2643

                              In reply to: Strings of Nines

                              After her little escapade with Yimho, and then with Brennan, and then with Gormitohl, and with each escapade, a new home, new relationships and relatives, Malvina was starting to feel homesick. ‘Home’ wasn’t really any place of course, but we all know when we feel at home or not. And right now, the feeling was clear and loud that she wasn’t.
                              Not only that, but her selfless outpouring of love (which dear Arona always found slightly exaggerated for her tastes) had oftentimes put her in awkward situations.
                              People weren’t always aware that even though her love was given so strongly to all of creatures, it could be found everywhere, in every creature. Ancients called that stream viwre. The only difference with her and the others was that she wasn’t discriminating and her love was outpourring in every direction, regardless of the intentions of the receiver. And that could become a terrible power.

                              Well, after all the traveling with her teal-coloured dragon Leörmn, and occasional visits from the young dragon breeder Irtak she felt more than ever the need to reconnect. It’s been too many years now, and the world of the (still) warring Kingdoms didn’t feel much of a better place. So there was still work to be done.

                              Of all people, she knew where to turn to.
                              It was too early to start her trip around the world to physically reunite with her sisters. A lifelong project which had strangely stalled ever since they started to mention it.
                              But she remembered Kalliona, a beautiful woman living south of the Marshes of Doom. She wasn’t really a woman either, but rather an E’elim of the woods, but she appeared as a beautiful woman to almost anyone.
                              She would help her realign with her path.

                              Leörmn!” She called “We’re packing!”
                              “To where, may I ask?”
                              “Olliburthon”
                              “Oh great… A stinking harbour now.”

                              #2637

                              In reply to: Strings of Nines

                              After five years of training of the dragon twins, Irtak was to do for the first time an act that would finally make him not just a dragon rider, but a dragon breeder in his own right. He had to part ways with them.

                              It was harder than he’d expected. He knew that if he wanted to bring more dragons into the great stream of the Duane’s life, he couldn’t only focus on the two buoyant twins. It’d taken them that long to manage channeling the intense energy of the two, and balancing their thirst of discovery with patience and adequacy of action.
                              Parting now was almost heart-breaking for him, even though the dragons had been reassuring they were only longing for new adventures with new companionship.

                              In fact, they were so longing that they would have almost gone with any stranger, or perhaps even just on their own —reluctant as they were to admit they also greatly enjoyed human’s company. However, Irtak wanted to make sure they would be taken care of by not just anybody; as powerful as dragons were, the two were almost innocent and very young for that race, and they would greatly benefit from some wise tutelage.

                              Now that Malvina had left the cave, he didn’t know who to turn to for advice, and was feeling a bit forlorn, though his glubolin was still working fine. He’d been thinking about it for quite some time, and realized that some travel would really do him good, so he finally began packing.
                              The Southern Shores of Lan’ork would make a great destination to find a proper owner for the twins, and an interesting starting point for new adventures.

                              #2304

                              The summer Holidays were nearly over, or the Hollow Days, as they were known to some. The last days of summer had been a bit hollow for Ann at any rate, rattling around inside her own head, not really knowing whether it was full or empty. Ann had spent most of the summer sleeping, and with virtually no dream recall, it seemed as if half of the summer was missing. Probably just as well, what with it being such an odd summer. She wondered if she would simply sleep through the shift, like Ned Young slept through the mutiny. Didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

                              “Normally” the Worserversity students started rolling back towards Poubelleville round about now, but the word “normally” was becoming obsolete. What was normal, what could be expected? Ann didn’t know. She packed her coloured pencils, her detachable hand and her wooden men, and fished out her homework assigments for the holidays that she had only just remembered.

                              Alliteration. Bugger bollocks and blast, blimey but what a bother, too bloody hot and bored.

                              That’s a bit bloody depressing, she muttered to herself, try another letter.

                              Sweltering summer of sweat and sand, sleeping and sleeping, sublime surruptitious snooze, sail away in the sunset swell, sunrise surrender, ships ahoy!

                              Fan the flames, far sighted fellows! There’s a flash in the funnel for fast falling fishermen. Far flung, fun fueled, oh fast fleeting fantasies, follow the folks with the flags! Flounder not, fresh fishies, for fun feels fantastic!

                              Ah, wallow in wisps of wordless wonderings, weather the winds of wandering whispers, while weighty wells of wishes work winsome wonders, woven with worn wool and worrisome white weathered windows. Whether we will, whether we won’t, who will win, what will work, will we watch it water the weeds….

                              #2636

                              In reply to: Strings of Nines

                              On their way to the volcanic lands, Yann and Yurick had to smile when they saw a magpie drop with a bell-shaped curved on top of the cars. They knew it was a sign of their friend Finn, as the car in front of them was having FCK concealed in its license plate number. “Fellowship of of Continuity in Knowledge”… to sexy it up.
                              Of course, they didn’t even mention the dime a dozen 57’s who weren’t as subtle and spy-like in nature, and far more all over-the-place (as it should).

                              At that same moment, Yurick had the vision of a disturbing short-motion movie suddenly burgeon in his imagination with a daredevil magpie as a involuntary heroine.
                              In a sort of bizarre paralleling of Jonathan seagull, the magpie would plunge at high speed onto the cars of the freeway so as to discover the untold exhilaration and awe that the strange vehicles were certainly feeling speeding that way. In the end, she would only to discover bored-to-death commuters inside, probably in what would be her last glimpse of this world…

                              Somehow Yurick wondered if the exhilaration of the dog sticking its tongue out of the car was much of a big deal.
                              Sure it certainly seemed so from afar, perched high in the branch from above the madding cars, but inside… the experience was another complete different thing.

                              #2631

                              In reply to: Strings of Nines

                              F LoveF Love
                              Participant

                                Franlise was unusually despondent. She flicked half heartedly through the last pages of Ann’s novel, looking for some sort of common thread which she could cleverly take hold of and expand upon, in order to provide the necessary continuity.

                                Daunted by the formidable proportions of her task, her thoughts turned instead to the strange man who had followed her that afternoon. Her attempts to lose him had failed, and, in the end, she had thought it best to delay her appointment with the Fellowship. Perhaps the man was just lured by her beauty, but she knew she could not risk exposure.

                                #2052

                                In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                                ÉricÉric
                                Keymaster

                                  head getting rubbish bag — felt others sister given dreaming … finally opened deep god
                                  piglets fellowship = short individuals dancing arona away
                                  create!

                                  #2623

                                  In reply to: Strings of Nines

                                  TracyTracy
                                  Participant

                                    Ann opened the letter from Morgana and read:

                                    “The Fellowship congratulates and thanks you for your continuity work on the script. We acknowledge the extreme difficulties you contend with as you face erratic forces resistant to any form of continuity and seeking only to create meaningless threads. The Fellowship also advises the script will be even further improved if you could sexy it up a bit.”

                                    “Good God” said Ann, momentarily nonplussed.

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