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  • #3007
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      The impending strategy and budget review was now quickly upon them.

      The much questioned old new authority of the Surge Team had decided all the countries had to join for that week long first round of strategy plan and as Long Poon was too much of a reminder of work (they said, but many suspected too much of a reminder of Ed Steam’s empire), Madam Li had graciously offered to host the venue in Shangpoon, where they had managed to corner 15,000 floating piglets and her services were still probably needed.

      All the thirteen chief operatives were busy setting things in order, and delegating current tasks during their business trip. Some of them were still hopelessly fumbling in spreadsheets and slides —a inane exercise in style they thought, but still…

      “I can’t stand it!” Cornella almost exploded in front of her computer, now returned to decent level of cleanliness since Aqua’s return. She was sick of this old ageing alzheimering authority. Not that she missed Ed too much now. He was a pig —and gawd, this waxed mustache from another epoch… A pig they all liked because they didn’t know better at the time and his charisma covered for all the tiny slips of behaviour or even judgement. She’d seen that same feeling when the ceremony was held for his ashes spreading; most of the tears shed there had looked a bit contrived.

      The mission to replace the pope with an alien-reconfigured Jesuit was a success, thanks to clever team work and her stellar delicate planning skills. A plan hatched before Ed’s demise, but that the old guys had been glad to call theirs. That was the waking call for her. If they could get rid so easily of the papacy, she would blow that budget convention from inside.
      That required thorough planning though, and a bit of luck. Most of the chick would gladly be on board with this.
      That’s when the mysterious vanishing dog legs cabinet came back to her attention.

      #2898

      The time travel mouse seemed rather anxious as it nibbled its Marie Biscuit: its long and coily whiskers were vibrating rather lazily, and he seemed to have been receiving transmissions from another dimension of time travelling.
      “Oh dear,” it squeaked to Mari Fe. “It seems like I shall have to postpone our little nibbling, a task does call me.”
      With that it disappeared. Mari Fe wondered what could’ve happened if she reversed time and revisited some memories. She decided to call upon the services of Terry, the time travel mouse, and he appeared.
      “Hello,” he warmly cooed.
      Terry, I need you to take me to a memory.”
      “And how does this memory play out?”
      “Well,” she began.

      #2688

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        With a temper he may have inherited from his mother (albeit adoptive), the shanghaied boy was proving to be quite a hassle to contend with. Minky was exhausted.

        First Yikes (that was the given name of the boy) had cried, pouted, and when gagged enough so that he wouldn’t be heard, he had then refused to walk, and even threatened to hold his breath till he would die. Good luck with this one, had laughed Minky (who had tried it before, but it never worked, and bossy old Messmeerah had promptly kicked him back to work). Actually, he was more annoyed with the refusing to walk kind of tantrum, because that meant he had to trudge with the boy on his back or on a luge, all the way to the evil lair —which wasn’t that evil, by the way, if you managed to focus away from the bloody stained altar…

        But there was something more serious he was quite anxious about —besides his bossy and irritable, though everlastingly beauteous, boss. He feared a certain purple dragon was on their trail…

        If I were you, came the ruffled sound from the makeshift luge that wouldn’t be the dragon I’d be worried about… Yikes was inwardly beautifully laughing (a trait he may have inherited by osmosis from Arona) thinking of how terrible Mandrake could be if asked to fetch something —a task he was too proud to refuse, and yet that he loathed to accomplish, as it was more fit to a canine than to his subtle feline standard.

        #2326

        “That perhaps is your task” Virginia was whispering in Ann’s ear”…to find the relation between things that seem incompatible yet have a mysterious affinity, to absorb every experience that comes your way fearlessly and saturate it completely so that your poem is a whole, not a fragment; to re-think human life into poetry and so give us tragedy again and comedy by means of characters not spun out at length in the novelist’s way…”

        “Did you catch that, Walter? ‘Not spun out in the traditional lengthy continous way’ she’s saying.”

        “…but condensed and synthesized in the poet’s way—that is what we look to you to do now.”

        “I didn’t know you channeled Virginia Woolf, Ann,” replied Walter. “Doesn’t mean she is necesarily right, though, notwithstanding.”

        “I didn’t say she was ‘absolutely right’, Walter. I’m just pointing out what’s right for me.”

        Walter popped another anchovy stuffed olive into his mouth.

        #2635

        In reply to: Strings of Nines

        While Irtak was learning how to deal bit with his first eggs, Leörmn was looking at other dimensions’ drama, on a tellubolin (a variety of glubolin).

        He wasn’t unsympathetic to Irtak’s challenge in trying to bond with two buoyant twin dragons. It was, by all accounts, not easy a task, as dragon twins weren’t always keen on allowing a third energy into their games, and the dragonry arts usually insisted that the lineage of the dragons were to be spread as much as possible.

        But Leörmn was very encouraging of Irtak, and didn’t want to deprive him of the gift of his accomplishment by making things easier. For he was sure it would only be a matter of time before the three were inseparable.

        #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.

          #2194

          Harvey wondered for a moment why he’d thought he’d heard “Sylvander”… He made Lavender repeat her name to be sure he got it right.

          At least, that was easier to remember than Aspooh’s full name.

          A striped cute little piggy… He’d heard about those funny Japanese Tokyo X ones. Speaking of Xs, there was a ten steps list to remember to help him out of procrastinating further on his current task that Lavy had kindly sent to him, but bugger if he could remember any one of them…

          Now… if that were to be a Japanese pig, they would have to learn how to say ‘Essence’ in Japanese:-?

          #1158
          TracyTracy
          Participant

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

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


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

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

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

            #1143
            AvatarJib
            Participant

              Al and Sam were waiting silently at the Yukaili airline terminal… the departure of their flight was in an hour and they decided to play with Tina and Becky 2 who were making egg sculptures in a white room.

              They were sending them energy suggestions to move their hands and the tools in certain ways in order to influence the result.
              Tina and Becky being very focused on their tasks were not necessarily aware of the meddling of their friends and at times were swearing like … I prefer not to tell.

              The end result was an watermegglon on Becky’s side and an a vegemegg from Tina’s side.

              Both were contemplating their creation with awe and wonder… sparkles in their eyes.

              :creating_magic:

              #1123

              Upon hearing Malvina’s thoughts, Arona smiled to herself.

              If only she knew the truth!

              ( If I put big spaces in-between, it will make it look as though I have written more, decided Tina rather cleverly, still feeling a bit creatively uninspired.)

              Tempted though she was, Arona knew she must not give anything away. It was easier to stay in character if she did not allow herself to remember too often, at least until this cave mission was complete. Occasionally she allowed herself the luxury of remembering, yet to do so was to feel a yearning for home.

              It was a pity about the outfit of course, the mouldy cloak…

              ( hmmm was it mouldy though or just a bit on the musty side? )

              … which the Oddlings had decided she would wear for much of this assignment was not her favourite look. Even though she had managed eventually to lose it in the darkness of the cave, her current clothes were now almost in tatters. Arona sighed wistfully, remembering the beautiful silks, chiffons and organzas some of her previous assignments.

              Moments later she brightened again thinking of Vincentius and her other friends.

              There were certainly compensations, she decided philosophically.

              Arona was a little concerned about the meddling of Malvina and the others, although of course she realised they were doing it with the best of intentions to fulfill their own purposes. Arona understood all this, and sometimes regretted she could not tell them who she really was. The powerful thought shields she had been trained in by the Oddlings meant that her disguise had not so far been penetrated.

              Yet she hated to deceive.

              Not to worry. For now she must just focus on the completion of her own mission here.

              She called to Buckberry softly in her thoughts and felt a little thrill of excitement when she heard his response. She knew she would have need of the little dragon for the task which lay ahead.

              #976
              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                Yes well, muttered Arona, with a few loud sniffs for good measure, be that as it may Dragon, but I still maintain that this random shifting is just a waste of time and energy. I mean it is so DARK in there, and a bit smelly too from all those glukenitch droppings if the truth be told.

                She thought for a moment. She didn’t want to be rude, but these things had been on her mind for some time. Well .. she said kindly, realising that the Dragon may not have much idea of the finer points of interior decorating, instead of randomly shifting walls, why not install some good overhead lighting? .. and you could put some nice wallpaper on the walls…

                She began to warm to her task. Yes! Big flower wallpaper! or it doesn’t have to be flowers, anything you like .. but something nice and cheery. Oh! and some comfy furniture too, Dragon. Wouldn’t that be nice?

                Leormn looked admiring at Arona. Why hadn’t he thought of that? he wondered.

                #878

                Old Narani is becoming too soft.
                While the attraction of the hole was intensely beckoning, Phurt had been appointed by a strange twist of fate to the guard of the prisoners by the Old Mother.

                Bugger Narani whisspered Phurt, why not just kill them, these stupid two-legged animals. Why the pain of keeping them alive? Good thing the daily dose of sedative venom had them quiet now. They would only scare the mooing preys. Stupid, stupid.
                Of course, it would be easy to just sink a little more than usual her sharp tooth into their neck so fragile. A regrettable accident…
                Phurt couldn’t help but smile a grin as wide as her hairy eight-eyed face. But she wasn’t known as the Doctor of Breath for nothing. Her mere breath could be as sweet as a jasmine scent or terribly deadly. She had never missed a target, never could have.
                She was no mere Spinner; how could the Mother have put her to such a slighting task. Degrading. For her, the most promising Hunter of her generation to be doing this while they all were securing the hole perimeter.

                She would have to go. Something was nudging her to move, something like a fluid water sound, that whispered that nothing could happen to those prisoners. No one would be fool enough to dare to enter the Nest.
                Ahaha, why would she care? Nobody would know. And the little ones would alert her in any case.

                With a prodigious jump, she sprung to the forest in the direction of the hole. She couldn’t be denied her destiny.

                :fleuron:

                Is it gone now? a voice whispered under a pile of giant ferns
                I think it is growled Araili’s voice Thanks to the Snoot’s power of suggestion, I suppose… The Snoot might find spiders eggs delicacy enough to help us in our rescue operation.
                Shall we go there now? Kay? Ready to go and report back if everything’s clear?
                Ready.

                :fleuron:

                Rafaela was not finding it very difficult to jump on the rocky slopes. It was only difficult for her to remember to stay physically focused so that Anita wouldn’t fall to a certain death. And of course, even more difficult to resist to the attraction of nibbling a few crunchy thistles and brambles that grew here and there.
                But Yuki’s attention was here to remind her, and so far, their progression had been smooth and easy.

                But all of a sudden, the small pink nose of Yuki raised in quicker spasms sniffing the air intently.
                What? What? asked Rafaela who almost forgot her focusing. What?! Did I fart or something?

                Anu who was having the time of her life jumping on the coarse back of the goat giggled at her clueless question.

                — I think the spiders are moving too. We’ll be reaching the hole before them, and the Snoot tells me they won’t be moving close to it. But they won’t let anything or anyone get out of it. Let’s hope dear Armelle will spot a path for our friends.
                — Not to worry, Rafaela said matter-of-factly, Army is good at spoohtting. She’s the best I know at that.
                — OK, let’s move on…

                :fleuron:

                Claude was finally seeing a pinhole of light, at a close distance. He could just continue to crawl out his way to the light, and he would soon be release. And to cheer him up, he reminded himself that no man nor beast he feared, with his phenomenal strength agility and speed he now had. Too bad he didn’t have any time to get a proper super-hero attire he smiled to himself.

                :fleuron:

                On Tikfijikoo, the Magpie’s energy maze-cloak was now lift. The fury of the cyclone was now in its full power, and the Magpies were starting their swift deployment.
                The item was left unguarded in the operation room, as far as they could tell, and in the chaos of the elements, surely a few magpies would be unnoticed.

                They had to move quick now. The portal would be opened soon too. They couldn’t come back without bringing “it” back with them.

                #814
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  Dr Bronklehampton just put the finishing touch on his last work of art.

                  It had required him more patience than he usually had for such things, but his guinea pig has been behaving quite docilely, well, docilely enough to make his task easier.
                  The most painful part for the Doctor had been to beautify the visible scars which had appeared upon careful examination of his subject, but he was greatly helped in his task. In fact, he never ceased to be amazed by the accuracy of the information delivered by the costly computer that the Confregation had granted him to pursue his work.
                  But now,… now, she was perfect. Lovely as like a Chinese porcelain doll.

                  Now that things finally were coming back into focus, the distant voices around made him frown. He was even starting to become suspicious of that Veranassessee girl that had supposedly come to assist him, as she was becoming dangerously close to the experience subjects, not to mention the visits of that Gabriel.
                  This island was becoming more and more a crowded resort rather than the secret facility it was supposed to be. Not that he really cared, now that his ultimate deadly bodyguard was finished…

                  #761

                  So then, said Franiel sitting down beside a small mound of earth, what now?

                  The top of the mound of earth was smoothed flat, and with a twig Franiel began to form small spiral patterns abstractedly in the earth. He felt no desire to go back to the monastery and face Aum Geog with the news of the loss.

                  He held the twig high, and then released it to fall to the ground. It fell without sound, landed unharmed on the mound of earth. He closed his eyes and in the dark at the back of his mind, he heard the voice of his grandmother whisper; Spirals make more sense than crosses Franiel my boy, joys more than sorrows.

                  Spirals make more sense than crosses….

                  None of it made much sense to Franiel. The feeling of freedom he felt momentarily slipped away. He was left looking at the space where it had been, feeling empty. The task given him by Aum Geog had given him a feeling of purpose, for a short time had allowed him to forget how lost he felt. Yet now the task had been taken from him, and he was in no hurry to retrieve it, he saw it for the illusion it had been.

                  What would it feel like to want to go somewhere? Or to want to be something, to want to be a monk, to want to be a teacher, to want to be the father of a family? To be able to arrange oneself neatly in a box and say I belong here?

                  Spirals make more sense than crosses …. day becomes night becomes day, lives come into being, and go out of being … there is always new life coming into being …… around and around

                  He began to walk along the path, away from where he had already been …. towards something new? He caught sight of a dead blackbird lying in the long grass to the side of the track and knelt down to look at it.

                  It is quiet and still.

                  He dug a hole, scraping in the dirt with his fingers and then using a stone to lever the lifeless body into the hole. The bird’s brown eyes are still open. Franiel covered it with dirt, looking deep into it’s eyes, until there is no sign of it, just a mound of earth.

                  He traced a spiral in the dirt.

                  Joys more than sorrows…

                  He sat back on his heels, and keeping his mind empty, he sang to the dead bird.

                  #745

                  Arona, my dear?

                  The silky voice of Malvina resounded in Arona’s ear, while she was meditating on the implications of the story Vincentius had told her.

                  — Yes?
                  — May I borrow you Buckberry and your sabulmantium for a few moments?
                  — Oh sure, no need to ask… Though I don’t think you require my permission for Buckberry, isn’t he free as I am?
                  — Oh yes he is, exactly as you said, free as you are

                  Arona could have sworn she felt a winking energy rippling through her flesh, making some unfamiliar electrical currents crawl underneath her skin. She would have said she was thoroughly disliking it, though she wasn’t really sure if she was.

                  — Oh, Malvina added as if an innocent afterthought, we are moving by the way, perhaps you may find interesting to join us for the homationing ceremony. You may learn some more about your sabulmantium.
                  — Well, why not, answered Arona having no idea of what a homationing ceremony could be…
                  — Very well, please join us in the main entrance, where I am playing the harp. We will be waiting for you.
                  — I’ll be there in a second.

                  So, they were moving? Speak about implications… Arona muttered, stroking dozing Mandrake, who had feasted on too many of the moorats crawling inside the moisteous cave tunnels.
                  I guess I’ll take this astounding elan as a hint that I’ll be going alone she said. A yawn for all answer.
                  Considering it was Mandrake, that was almost a mark of distinctive affection… or was it rather of affectionate distinction?

                  Moving? She didn’t want to move, not yet, not like that… And to be honest, with all the stuff in that cave, she sure didn’t want to help pack all of this, be it by magic. What an impossible task.

                  Vincentius the nanny was taking care of Yikes, so she was confident should anything happen, he would be alright.

                  :fleuron:

                  On the outside of the cave, the dragons were all lined up, as if waiting for some unknown signal. Leormn first in shades of teal, and his spawns, Buckberry, with the most florid and baroque hues of purple that one could imagine, and the two facetious Heckle and Jeckle in shades of emerald, looking unusually calm.

                  Malvina, with Leo the little marmoset on her left shoulder, was playing her harp, while Irtak was accompanying her playing a mouth harp.
                  Some drums had been disposed around, and quite naturally, Arona felt like beating the measure on these, getting slowly and slowly relaxed by the music and guttural sounds produced by the throat singing dragons.
                  She almost laughed and broke the meditating pattern when she let the memory of Sanso come into her awareness. What a shame he’d missed that, that would have fitted him better than her.

                  Slowly the sounds stopped, and Malvina very gracefully rose from her stool, and greeted Arona with a loving hug. Her flowing robe was a tender orchid hue with laces of thistle pink, and her silvery peach long flowing hair were giving her the aura of a princess.

                  — Wait, where are Georges and Salome? She said, are they already gone?
                  — No, they are waiting for us at the new location, she said with a smile… Now, Leormn will start the ceremony.

                  Arona almost said Wait again, in anticipation of what was to come, and finally decided to let it flow. The serene look of Malvina and her motherly smile was of a nurturing reassurance.

                  Outside, in the grassy lands, the dragons had all grown wings and were apparently ready to take off. A pile of conic shaped dirty sand was standing in front of the entrance, that Arona had never seen before.

                  She could feel Buckberry answer her unspoken question without even a word being uttered. It is soil from the cave, and we will use it now.

                  Arona watched the dragons rise in the sky full of damp gray clouds, and wondered what they were doing.
                  They are doing two things, Arona answered Malvina (again that disagreeable habit of reading thoughts, couldn’t help but think Arona, wishing there would be some World around where such thing wouldn’t be so easy), first they are checking what kind of creature are staying with us and following the movement, continued Malvina, ignoring the remark, and second, they are drawing with that sand from the cave a circle to enclose the area we want to move

                  Arona didn’t dare say the explanations were making her even fuzzier, so she nodded as if abreast of what was going on.

                  Popping sounds of the dragons blinking in and out to get some more dirt almost made her dizzy, and she forgot the strangest feeling she had when she thought she heard “the area we want to move”.

                  — Now, continued Mavina, the sabulmantium.

                  The dragons were now all back, and the pile of sand had disappeared.
                  Arona’s attention snapped back to herself, and she handed the fine object to the lady. She couldn’t help but notice the glowing eyes of Irtak, who apparently was very eager to see what would happen.
                  So he will move too, she thought, hope his father won’t be too sad… Why did she felt it was a separation from this place she had found she was liking…

                  — If you look closely, said Malvina to no one in particular, but Arona took it for herself, you will see how easy it is to come back if you feel so inclined.

                  At her touch, the coloured sands in the sabulmantium’s transparent dragon shell globe started to move. And all could see the cave being formed, with all the little people, dragons, glukenitches and even Leo and Mandrake… They were all here, enclosed into a circle of sand.

                  — Now, if you will follow me… said Malvina who traced on the ground a curvy symbol.

                  And very slowly, as the whole sand scenery inside the sabulmantium was turning in a round, they all felt as though they were dissolving into the air. Yet, they were all solid, and the interior of the cave was still too.
                  The only thing that was moving was the exterior, twirling and changing, getting out of focus, and moving erratically at the beginning, and then getting close to a focal point. Some fine tuning was occurring.

                  And in a snap,
                  The landscape
                  Was
                  In all its splendor…

                  — Greetings! a smiling couple at the entrance of the cave said to the people inside.

                  #703

                  So you have requested audience… a deep voice, hoarse as a water’s torrent running and jumping on a river bed smothered with pebbles, asked from the darkness.

                  Midora was not afraid of the darkness. As best as she could explain it, it was the void of creation, where everything came from, and where all was stripped of intrinsic meaning. It was from this place that she could reach for the answers.

                  She knew this place, she felt memories swirling around, as uncatchable as a swarm of short-lived sparkles born from the reddish embers of a dying fire.
                  In this lifetime, she was only a eleven year old girl, but she was as old as this voice within her. There was a time where she was playing with that voice, a time where her being was not yet, and yet a time which was in her future.
                  She was pure consciousness in that dream time space, and yet, she was feeling more comfortable with physical symbols around herself. So she focused on one of the symbols that she knew would help her stabilize her vibration, and in doing so, all the small particles of golden light around her started to swirl and coalesced into a dream body.

                  She was in front of a cave, in a mountainous area. This body provided her a slowing down of the stream of information that came to her, and she could manipulate more efficiently the interaction with that huge presence she felt. The precipitous rocky environment was a symbol of that steadiness and slowing down and also, for her benefit of her beliefs in that acquiring such information might be a difficult task.
                  Now she had identified it, she could more easily dispel the obstacles on the path to the cave. The cave of course, was her symbol for reaching into her deep inner nature. And the darkness was only a fitting blank canvas for herself to project and translate the energy interactions.
                  All of that she knew, as it was knowledge embedded into herself that she could more easily access into this trance-like state, in her room in that location in space and time of 2112 in New Venice. And she knew that also for she was taught by her parents, Bart and Oscar, on how to access it.

                  The voice was inside the cave. And no sooner had she thought of it that she was finding the whole place morphing into a vast room built into the rock, in the middle of which a majestic golden dragon was slowly breathing.
                  She had translated the vast energy as that of a dragon, but she knew when she felt into it that it had possible variations, one of which being that of a she-phoenix, of various sizes, where sizes where symbolic of its age and wisdom.

                  You may call me Naasir the dragon grinned at Midora. You are right, in a sense, you can consider yourself being born from me, though in your true form, you are equally august and splendid as I am. You will, in time, have access to that form, again. But for now, I can provide some answers to your questions. The only thing is… Are your questions up to the challenge? he added with the most benevolent smirk his wide toothed grin could convey.

                  Midora pondered for a moment, beholding the perfection of her translation of the energy. Each scale on the body of the dragon was a work of art. His half-closed eyes, with an amber shiny center, and teal border were equally mesmerizing.

                  :fleuron:

                  — What is the significance of these books I have inherited from my parents?

                  As you know, this place is the place were significance fades away, or radiates, depending on the direction in which you look, only to be replaced by fulfillment. Your… books hence, have no significance, I would say, for me at least. What do you want to know about them?

                  — They were passed from people to people, and as far as I understood, they started to be imprinted with these people’s stories, starting from my grand-parents Indy and Cuthbert. But there are still blank pages inside them, and no seeming order from one page to the other. I think that’s why my grand-parents grew tired of it.

                  Continue…

                  — What I mean is… I feel attracted to them, and yet I don’t understand how they work…

                  These… are not mere books as your ancestors understood them. In fact, they were crafted by a distant civilization, not denizens from this dimension in which you are presently focused, but travelers, with whom you can still interact by means of this device. When the “books” traveled into this dimension, they retained their initial properties and functioning, but their initial shapes were translated into something as close as you could understand so that you would allow them to appear into your reality. This knowing might help you unravel their true nature.

                  Another thing. Books are energy deposits, in your reality. There was a misunderstanding in that they were thought to be able to liber or to free your memory by imprinting it into the pages, but memories are alive and not separate from you. They live as you live and change them. So, the books are still being written, and that which you can read is the part of the book which is the most probable story in which you choose to insert yourself, so as to explore it. You can alter these probabilities, even if you might doubt it, but as you chose them, they are much a part of your design of your reality, that which you chose to explore. In short, a complete book means the end of your exploration, and prompts for a disengagement for you to continue other explorations, and on the contrary, a blank books means a boundless realm of probable explorations.

                  — Can you tell me why there are two of them?

                  They are more than a couple. These ones are the only known ones that your ancestors happen to have found. Most of them have been destroyed over time in this dimension, as their possibilities were heavily cloaked. They are all linked together, as you will find out. You may gather some answers in finding Badul

                  And with that, Midora was once again floating in an intermediate state hung between space and time, longing for her physical body. She woke up strangely energized…

                  #683

                  The landscape had become oddly unfamiliar to Franiel. He had walked this path to the Village at the foot of the mountains maybe a half a dozen times, yet he felt certain he had never before seen these surroundings. He had never seen this patch of bright yellow flowers with their golden centers, nor this gnarled tree whose branches dropped down over the path causing Franiel to stoop in order to pass by. He stopped, hesitating, should he return the way he had come, find where he had left the path? Yet even while his mind was telling him what he was seeing should not be, he knew in his heart that he had taken no wrong turning. He touched the trunk of the old tree, and asking for wisdom, felt it’s reassuring energy calm his anxiety. The way ahead, though unexpected, felt friendly.

                  As fate would have it he had not journeyed much further when he spied a fellow traveler coming towards him on the path ahead, a small figure swathed in colourful robes, wild and dishevelled locks of hair protruding exuberantly from beneath his brown leather cap.

                  Greetings Fellow Traveler, cried out Franiel as he drew nearer, My name is Franiel. I am travelling from the Monastery of Margilonia to the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon, and foolishly I appear to have mislaid my way.

                  The stranger chuckled merrily. Greetings Franiel, Indeed If that is your destination then I fear perhaps you are more lost than you care to admit. He motioned towards the grassy bank at the side of the path. Perhaps we might sit awhile and talk, for I know that I for one, could do with a rest and bite to eat.

                  A splendid idea, replied Franiel, sensing magic in the stranger and enjoying immensely the unexpected diversion.

                  So my friend you are a long way from the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon.

                  Am I indeed? mused Franiel, How could that be, for that was where I was heading, and as far as I know I did not step from the path, and yet here I am.

                  The stranger chuckled again, and his laughter was so infectious that Franiel joined in, not really being able to identify the source of the amusement, yet feeling all the better for it.

                  And how important is it that you get to the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon?

                  I am on a mission from Aum Geog, the newly appointed Abbot, replied Franiel, as he pulled out the chalice from his pack, to have this cup inscribed.

                  The stranger reached out for the chalice, and studied it intently for a few moments. He took some of the water from his own water bottle and poured it into the chalice. Muttering a few words which Franiel did not recognise, the stranger closed his eyes and held the cup up as though offering it to the Gods. After a few moments he took a sip from the chalice. A look of delight crossed his face, As I thought! he chuckled.

                  Now drink, my friend, he said offering the chalice back to Franiel.

                  This is the sweetest Nectar you carry in your bottle ! Franiel exclaimed in surprise after taking some sips.

                  The stranger chortled, It was plain water from the river I passed on my travels. I gather from your surprise that you do not know the magic of this chalice?

                  Franiel shook his head. Well to be honest I have not really given the chalice much consideration, only to briefly wonder at my task. My mind has been more occupied with other matters. Franiel looked at the chalice in his hands, And what more can you tell me of this magic?

                  I can caution you to be wary my friend, I would not be so quick to show strangers you meet on your path this cup, for be assured there would be some who would be keen to possess this. He frowned for a moment. What are the words which are to be inscribed on this chalice?

                  Franiel pulled the sealed letter from his pack, and, feeling only a moment’s hesitation, opened it; “Bibere venenum in argento”, he read haltingly, then shrugged. I confess I don’t know what that means, I have not been taught in the old language.

                  It is a curse of the Ancients, it means “drink poison from a cup of silver”. Seeing the puzzled look on Franiel’s face the stranger went on to explain. The magic of the chalice is to transform. I uttered words of love and the water transformed to sweet nectar. Had I whipered words of hate and fear, had my intention been to kill, I could have changed the water to bitter poison. The power though is not in the chalice, it is in the intention of the one who holds it and who knows of it’s magic.

                  Franiel shook his head, bewildered, I can find no sense in this. Why would Aum Geog curse the cup in this way?

                  The stranger turned and looked at Franiel, his clear blue gaze piercing and direct, I don’t know this Aum Geog, neither do I know his heart …. I know that you are the bearer of the cup now Franiel. Make sure you are asking the right questions.

                  #644

                  Back in the depths of the water, Aglaë was thinking of a way for her to move easily on the other world.

                  There was a legend of her people, a legend which was told to the children. It promised pain and an accursed half-life to those trying to disown their heritage, and live outside of the life-sustaining element of water.
                  For most of the children, such an idea was incongruous at best, and none would have thought of breaching the taboo simply to try something different and potentially lethal.
                  But to Aglaë, all that it meant now was that such a thing was possible.
                  In that legend she had been told when she was young, there was a prince, who betrayed his people, and was condemned to an exile outside of the oceans. So that he would not die an immediate and atrocious death on the dry surface, but rather suffer even more, by not being able to come back to the depths, he was given a mixture of plants to ingest. A deadly algae which grew in the cemeteries of the Holders of Dreams, on the carcasses of the Wise Ones, mixed with an herb from the lands.

                  Aglaë did not know how and where to gather the plants… She was hesitant to do such a thing, for it would surely infuriate her father… But she was willing to do it. She would have to find a naïve ally to help her in her task, because she was seeing her half-brother Pelorus becoming suspicious and she did not want to have him discover her plans before she could realise them.
                  Pelorus was very close to their father, who had made him Captain of the Tritonic Guard. Though he was not having a slithery serpentine tail like her own, he was very agile and swift in the waters with his tentacles, and was very respected, as he had a reassuring presence, radiating might and power.

                  #627

                  Franiel offered his congratulations to Aum Geog along with the others. He did not mind that he was not himself chosen to succeed Hrih Chokyam, and neither would he have expected it, however he felt the physical absence of the Old One keenly. His powerful presence had cloaked the whole monastery in a sweet warmth, and even though Franiel had only been there a short while, he had felt close to the Old One. Of course his spirit will always be here, but the same time Franiel knew change was inevitable, and he was unsure of his own place within the boundaries of the monastery. Happiness and fun were valued highly by Franiel, they were more important to him than all the spiritual ideals others would speak of, and he had felt a slight greyness of late. He found humility difficult and did not enjoy following rules, neither did he enjoy listening to the wisdom of the other brothers. At times his sense of humor would cause them to frown upon him. He knew the Old One had understood this, but now he was gone he wondered how he would fit. He pulled out the note Jog Lam had given him from Hrih Chokyam, Listen to your heart…. it began. What was his heart telling him?

                  Brother Franiel!. He heard the voice of Aba Tane calling him. The Brothers were shortly meeting to hear Aum Geog speak, presumably to announce the new direction for the monastery.

                  Brother Franiel, Aum Geog has requested you take this chalice to the Village, so the silversmith may engrave it with these words. Aba Tane handed Franiel a cup, and a piece of paper with a seal. He requested you should go right away and that you should remember that the cup is precious. He requested also that I sprinkle you with some Holy Water to safeguard you on your way. In customary manner, Franiel knelt and Aba Tane sprinkled the precious bottled water on his forehead. Love and Light, Brother Franiel. Blessings for your journey.

                  It was several days walking down the mountain to the Village. To be honest though, it was a task Franiel welcomed, perhaps to be away from the monastery at this time would give him a chance to better hear what was in his heart, and to miss the meeting was no loss for him.

                  He wondered at the haste, and at what the words might be, however it was not his business to question the directives of Aum Geog. He remembered also his dream of the silver goblet. Many things to ponder, he mused, a feeling of excitement growing within him.

                  #599

                  I wonder how delightful it may feel to become one with that butterfly, mused Franiel, his attention diverted from the job at hand as he followed the dance of a delicate white butterfly. He closed his eyes for a moment and merged with the creature, how free ! He sighed, trying somewhat reluctantly to pull himself back. Franiel had been sat there for quite some time now, supposedly engaged in the task of writing a short poem of 3 stanzas for Hrih, the Old One.

                  Of course there was no pressure. Yet in his desire to please, Franiel felt it as such. In his dreams of the previous night Hrih had visited him. He had offered Franiel a golden crown, a silver goblet filled with sweet nectar, and a jewelled sword. Choose! commanded Hrih. Franiel had chosen the goblet and drank thirstily from it, and yet he had felt that Hrih was not pleased with his choice, and upon wakening Franiel had felt a strange uneasiness.

                  Franiel had not been trained in the way of the pen, and he knew his words would be clumsy. He had been raised in a poor home, where words were not considered to be of much value other than to instruct him in his tasks, or berate him when those tasks were not completed. Being a dreamy child, this had often been the case.

                  He wished he could harness the power of words and use them to soothe and caress, to create beauty even, he thought, gently running his finger over the plain wooden table where he was seated.

                  Well for now he would not worry what form his words should take, for it was enough of a task even to know what his highest truth might be!

                  My highest truth .. my highest truth, … how many times now had he said these words, hoping perhaps if he repeated them enough the gods might take pity on his for his ignorance and provide an answer. How could he possibly know his highest truth? The very concept of such a thing perplexed him.

                  Day was turning into night before Franiel finally laid down his pen. In the end his words were simple. He sighed, saddened by the thought that they would surely be a disappointment. The best I can hope for is that the Old One will see these words as nothing more than a doorway to my soul. Hrih was wise, Franiel knew this, and trusted the decision of the Old One.

                  It was in the hands of the gods, for surely if I can’t trust this at least, all my fine talk and learning is for nothing.

                  I am the driftwood
                  the wave carried me
                  I was buried in sand

                  I am the flower
                  the butterfly touched me
                  I fell in love

                  I am the raindrop
                  the cloud released me
                  I became the ocean

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