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  • #246

    Huÿgens was not much of a cat person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    And off she was… free and unfettered as a gripshawk

    ***

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

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

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

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

    #243
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      William Percival Jobsworth, or “Bill” for short, was finding the old creaking manor as freaky as their owners.

      The Wrick family was known around for being shrouded in mystery, and few people had actually been invited inside the manor, after its acquisition by Lord Wrick.

      The manor itself was full of ghost stories, as every mansion worth its salt in that part of the country. But this one has been a wreck on which he would not have invested two pence of his money, after it had been abandoned for many decades after the sudden death of the previous owner, the Crazy Baron.

      But Lord Wrick was an eccentric, and had bought the manor and restored it to its previous grandeur.

      It had been thrice now that Bill had come to the manor to paint the family portraits. The first time he had also delivered that strange parcel, given to him by that strange lady. Looking straight into his eyes, she had also told him something that had lingered in his mind quite vividly.

      « Suffering is not good for the soul, unless it teaches you to stop suffering. »

      He couldn’t see exactly why it applied to him, but the lady had seemed so authoritative about that, that he had agreed and felt like thanking her.

      The parcel had come a bit unexpected to the Lord, though he was quite artful in hiding his emotions, Bill could say. He had questioned him about the lady, but Bill had not dared to share with him the thing about the suffering. Actually the Lord looked in pretty good shape considering the age he was likely to be. He pretended to be a bit incapacitated, but Bill would have bet that if he had fallen from a window, he would have landed on his feet as a cat.

      Speaking of which, their old cat with its worn-out blackish fur was a bit freaky too. Bill had felt at times he could hear it answer the Lord’s gibberish.

      But all in all, that was easy money, and he thanked the opportunity to be able to do these paintings while the winter was coming.

      Now was something else. He almost startled when he was opened the big entrance door, to be revealed an improbable shape, two or three heads taller than him. It took him a short while to recognize the smile of the children’s nurse, topped by a funny hat that made him laugh heartily, after the initial shock was dissipated.

      Hahaha, sorry, that was unexpected… he managed to say to Jacqueline, who was not unaccustomed to these odd kinds of reactions.

      Not to worry she said with a slight French accent. Monsieur and Madame Wrick have come back from their trip to Mogadishu, and you will be able to have their portraits done. They will stay here for a few weeks…

      Linda and Peregrine Wrick were Cuthbert and India Louise proud (and a bit insouciant) parents, Lord Wrick had explained without much more details. Peregrine was the son of Lord Wrick’s only son, Sean Doran Wrick, but Bill had felt some restrain to ask about Sean Doran, as the Lord had seemed a bit umbrageous only speaking his name.

      Oh… said Bill who did not expect them to come back so quickly.

      Appendix: The Wrick family tree

      #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.

        #219

        As the parrot set off in search of Dory he came to a fork in the tunnels. Down one tunnel he would find Dory, and down another tunnel he wouldn’t. HHMM. Well, I’ll just do bother, he decided, (chuckling to himself that he’d said bother when really he meant both) and probability parrot one set off down the right tunnel and probability parrot two set off down the left. Probability parrot one (or PP1 for short) did indeed find Dory, and was heading back towards Sanso and the door in the ceiling with Dory tripping along behind him, when he came to another crossroads. PP1 went right, and PP3 went left, and so on, and before long the caves were full of parrots.

        #212
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          Fiona wandered slowly along the road to the supermarket in the Village, deep in thought, pondering a recent dream. In her dream she had been talking to someone from the power company. He was very chatty. Eventually he asked her if she had any issues with her power service. In her dream she had started to focus on some electricity issues she was experiencing. Well as a matter of fact I do, she had replied. At which point the man from the power company had abruptly cut the call short.

          In her dream she felt a little put out, although resolved to let the power company know later.

          The message of the dream felt clear enough, it was her focusing on the difficulties which cut her connection. Yet this presented Fiona with some difficulty, because she dearly loved to analyse even when this did mean focusing on not so pleasant things, though she had been aware for some time how this mental work would deplete her energy.

          Actually there was almost a feeling of grieving in her. To let go of this part of her felt like losing something warm and comforting in it’s familiarity, like a well worn and loved article of clothing. It left her wondering a bit about her own identity.

          On the way back home, laden with bags of shopping, Fiona saw Jarrod.

          Jarrod was lying on a park bench conversing loudly to himself. Well, Fiona mentally corrected herself, to someone I can’t see anyway.

          They just don’t understand reality he was saying vehemently they just don’t get it.

          Fiona smiled to herself, noticing Jarrod getting a few concerned looks from the well dressed locals. With his bare feet, unkempt hair and long beard he would stand out even if he wasn’t shouting at the top of his voice. She decided to try and sneak past herself, he looked like maybe today he would not recognise her anyway.

          FIONA!

          She turned back.

          Hey Jarrod

          Fiona, here’s the thing. Here’s the question okay. Should we swim up-stream or down? Fiona what do you think? Should we head for the Source or the Ocean? Up river or down? We’re on the edge of a new era Fiona. So what will it be, the shallows or the rapids?

          Before she needed to come up with an answer Jarrod’s attention was diverted by the shopping bags.

          FOOD! Great is that for me Fiona?

          #207
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            Fiona had just received another rambling note from Dory, and was feeling rather bemused and perplexed.

            Dory’s notes seemed to make less and less sense. The worst thing was that lately Quintin and Yann appeared to be following her lead. Of course she could be mistaken, the difference in language could be confusing things .. and there was all the merging they had been doing lately which meant they usually spoke in riddles. Fiona spoke very little French, just a few handy phrases such as “hello” and “butt”.

            But as for Dory

            Fiona was a kindhearted person and tolerant of others. But these tales Dory was spinning appeared to be increasingly bizarre and nonsensical. Endless beginnings which never seemed to lead anywhere.

            Am I being too rational? Fiona wondered, always humbly willing to accept her own shortcomings, or “dark corners” as Quintin liked to describe them.

            One day, after a particularly outrageous note from Dory about an orgy in her kitchen with 57 Italians she had to cook for, Fiona felt compelled to gently and tactfully question Dory.

            You are just out for revenge, Dory had hissed at her. It’s just a dream, I think … hmmmmm or am I a dream … or is it all a dream ….. I will go and ask Archie! and off she had dashed in a flurry of colourful shawls.

            Bugger this, thought Fiona. Revenge had been the last thing on her sweet natured mind. With no more housework left to complete, she decided to go for a walk to the nearby cafe to take her mind from all this madness.

            #206

            India Louise had been switching her own book with Cuthbert’s that night. And as she was exploring some of the stories told in his, he was having a peek into hers.

            Very quickly, he became aware of a whole new continent, in that World, across the Middle Seas. In that continent far North of the one where Malvina’s was living, lived some intrepid people. They were strong with big voices, and a bit quarrelsome too. Their ways had forgotten lots about Magix and they placed most of the value into tangible items.

            The next page, a man was sailing across the Middle Seas with a handful of trusted men. He was a captain pirate, named Båd Al’Guz, which meant, Båd son of Guz. His crew referred to him as Bådul.

            Cuthbert was intrigued by this man, and had begun to discuss with him mentally, asking who he was, who were his people. The same as Cuthbert had been very innocently doing with gentle Malvina.

            But Bådul was tricky, and after a bit of a surprise, very soon discovered that the little boy could be a very interesting informant, though an unusual one.

            And in fact, his information was much more interesting than that which the shamans of King Wulfrick babbled in the most inspired manner.

            Till now, from the mouths of the buck-pelts clothed shamans had only came stupid gibberish that the King and his court gobbled endlessly. Something about “YaWn”, as they said: You animate Worlds neatly .

            How stupid was that? Their only answers were useless to him, they were only telling him that he activated and animated the Worlds neatly, and that, in short, nothing was fixed and he could do anything.

            Well, with that boy, that was different. He was talking about a cave with gilded dragon eggs, and THAT was of a great value to Bådul.

            But of course, he would not frighten the young boy and pretended that his intentions were that of an explorer, trying to discover new shores and new continents, so as to become closer to understand from where he came, and hopefully make people aware of their closeness to each others.

            He was such an eloquent actor that he almost shed a tear saying that sentence.

            As a matter of fact, for as long as he remembered, he had been wandering in many situations, and lots of them had not been very pleasant. Born from uncaring parents, as lots, if not all, of his people were, working as a janitor in a sordid tavern, then as a warden (if not executioner when requested) in an even more sordid jail… Were the Gods to be blamed for that? Well, according to the shamans, he was the only one to be blamed, because he did not accept his responsibility as a weaver of Worlds.

            Idiots.

            At least, he had found his passion. He love sailing, and taking riches for his pleasure. Whatever then, he would take his share, and not care about what was next.

            At least, if he could coax the boy into revealing more about that cave.

            #134
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              As Arona put her map carefully away she suddenly realised she was not alone. An odd looking creature was sitting on a rock a short distance away. Arona’s eyesight was not that strong, and she found it hard to make out clearly what sort of a creature it was, but she was amused to notice how it seemed to be talking and laughing to itself, nodding it’s head and sniffing the air. Perhaps it has been taking some of the hallucinogenic plants which grow so abundantly in this terrain, she thought to herself. The creature was now looking to the sky, as though rain were falling, and the sniffing was becoming more intense. How odd, thought Arona, and so convincing was the creature that she looked upwards herself, yet saw only the brilliant blue sky she knew to be there. Poor little fellow, she thought, it has really lost the plot.

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