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  • #601
    Jib
    Participant

      Georges and Salome’s journal

      From Georges’ account of his arrival in Tur.

      There is a strong energy concentration on some part of this planet called the Duane. I’m not yet familiarized with the geography of this world, but it seems to be a starry Island on the northern territories. The island is inhabited by a particular race that call themselves the Guardians. It seems that they are the only remnants of their previously flourishing civilization, most of them have migrated to another planet of the triplanetary system. The energy concentration is acting like a magnet, tuned to the other 2 planets, the Murtuane and the Phrëal. Maybe helping maintain the 3 of them in that particular triangle like alignment around Alienor.

      The source of energy is coming from a giant crystal ball in their main City and is kept active by the Guardians. I’m wondering if they are responsible for the particular planetary aspect of this world. They are aware of other dimensions and other realities. But they are keeping these information for themselves. Planetary travels are not allowed for the other races apparently and they are not willing to exchange with other dimensional beings. I’ll have to play smoothly to gain their trust and get known. Apparently the body I chose for this first contact with this world is similar to one of their Jokan or higher ranked guardians. Maybe that will be of help.

      There are twelve of them, and I think the 12 Jokan are directly connected with the 12 essence families of this dimension. Usually there are 4 of them present on each of the 3 worlds. But again that is information that is hidden to the other people of the Duane. I’m not sure about the other planets yet but it seems different.

      #569

      It had not been easy to convince his parents. His mother especially…
      As a matter of fact, he had failed to convince them at all, and Tomkin had to decide by himself whether he wanted to follow Badul and his crew in his quest for unknown mysteries.

      Tomkin had left a short written message for the Sharples, to tell them that they needn’t worry, and all would be fine.

      Badul had decided to split his crew in two, having Austor in charge of the boats while he would go with a handful of trusted men by land.
      Apparently, the young boy was aware of one portal which was close to their current location. This one was not part of the main network and was operating unknowingly to the officials. Its size was small, and travels were regulated by a local governor who used it for his clandestine business.
      It was located deeper inside the lands of Golfindely, and the mountainous area of highlands planted with luxuriant trees made its access difficult.

      Despite the boy’s initial reluctance at leading them to this place, Badul was determined to go, and very quickly Tomkin was excited at the opportunity to finally travel as he always had wanted to. It wouldn’t be by sea for now, but as Captain Bone said, every journey starts with one step.

      #413
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Dory was browsing in the airport shop, waiting for her flight back to Spain. She picked up a copy of Reportilda, the travel magazine, to read on the plane. A couple of the articles highlighted on the cover caught her eye:

        Dragonfly Swarms Across The Straits…extinct species emerges from Sahara desert and swarms to rural Andalucian mountains….

        Travels With Lemur…..hilarious excerpts from Marco the Pole’s diaries…..

        Andwenden: The Forgotten Ones…….psychic archeologists discover ancient pyramid building culture…..

        Tuareg Update…….the future looks sunny for ancient nomadic culture as US pulls out….

        #1556

        In reply to: Synchronicity

        TracyTracy
        Participant

          A couple of weeks ago at Rachel’s at Salitre I met a Polish man called Marco (marco polo LOL ). Well, yesterday at Salitre someone was telling me a bit about Marco. He was a salior, and had spent some time in Madagascar. He acquired a lemur which became his good friend, and he continued his travels by boat with the lemur, until eventually he met a lady he wanted to marry in Poland and she said ‘Either the lemur or me’.

          Marco sold the lemur to a zoo in Poland, for a phenomenal sum of money, so the story goes, because apparently lemurs don’t travel well and need to sail slowly to the new destination in order to acclimatize…so I was told

          Marco divorced the lady and said that, in retrospect, he was sorry he didn’t choose the lemur.

          #342
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            Al was concerned about Tina. He wondered why at times it was like their moods were at the antipodes of each other. Like one was in summer when the other one was in winter. Of course, seasons had gone awfully awry in the past (well, in people’s perception at least), and cherry trees were at times blooming in the late autumn, so that was hardly a good metaphore. Enfin bref…
            Sometimes he wished they could move to a part of the Earth were the differences were leveled or not so dramatic, but of course, that would be focusing unduly on what seems awry, and not appreciating the differences for what they brought in understanding for each other.

            Like most people now, Tina and him were living in a free relationship, not bonded by written contracts, just by a mutual wish to be experiencing a common exploration. But lately, especially with the play writing, deep issues had surfaced between them, and he was no longer sure of what they were exploring, as it was like shifting sands. Of course, now, most people were shifted themselves, thanks to the new generations of children who were exceptionally gifted in accessing their own essence. But for them, in their mid-30s, there were still issues linked to their old patterns of thoughts, many deeply ingrained ways of thinking, coming from many generations before them.
            That T.R.A.P. attraction thing was a good example of the differences. It was mostly an attraction park for his generation, not really for children, as they were greatly able of doing these kinds of inner-travels without the aid of technology —not that they didn’t enjoy it either.

            Al was thinking of a gift for Tina. He wanted to show her that she had really transformed Jadra, or that they had come a long way since the wandering in the cave tunnels, or that everything started to make sense, even the invisible friend Blohmul…
            Well, there were still mysteries around him, (not mysteries really, but things yet at the state of seeds, or potentials) but he was no longer a hair on the soup they cooked. He was the blue fox of Mævel, and more interestingly, that cursed god was the son of Mirÿnda, the Goddess of Mirth —but that, Tina had not realized yet…

            Actually, now that he was looking at the entry, Al noticed that Jadra was last seen with Mirÿnda, and that struck him as something more than a coincidence…

            #321

            — Daddy, daddy! I want to come with you!

            Young Peregrine had been running after his father at the moment when he had put the letter in his pocket ready to go off the streets.

            — Oh, really? Sean Doran Wrick was weighing the possibilities.

            Peregrine was still in fluffy rabbit slippers and pajamas, but he had a very determined look on his young face.

            — Then perhaps we should ask Guinevere to come with us too?
            — OK, I go ask her!

            And off was Peregrine, running down the hall of the large Dublin apartment to his sister’s room.

            Sean was thoughtful… Well, Edmund had said that the private jet would be ready in an hour, so that was leaving him some time to have a nice beer at the pub before departing to New York to see the Traveling Reality Amusement Park, or T.R.A.P. for short, as the imaginative publicists of his father’s company had decided to brand the new revolutionary concept.

            Sean had been supervising the very first prototype before he had met Margaret, and then had got more interested in his “real” family life than in amusement travels in fairy lands… But nonetheless his father had trusted his flair, and had kept him informed of the developments of the project.
            Now, for the premiere of the T.R.A.P., he’d got some VIP invitations, but grieved with Margaret’s death, he had not wanted to go there at all. That is, until Becky had spoken about it…

            Peregrine came back with a pout on his face.
            — She’s not sure if she wants to come, he said…
            — Oh well. Then, let me have my beer, and I come back in a few minutes to see if you and your sister are ready. I’ll pick up whomever is ready and packed up.
            — Yipeeee! Peregrine’s eyes were gleaming with joy.

            #305

            Quintin couldn’t sleep.
            Now he was thinking, he had delayed it for too long.
            They all had been thinking of it, talking and glossing over it for so long. Some had dreamed of it, feared it, asked for it to bugger off. Lots of pains and struggles, but it had only been clever or not so clever ways to delay the unavoidable.

            Now, he had an urge to insert it. How come he had not thought of it before. All he had to do was insert it in his reality.
            Well, that would sure mean lots of changes, but after all, no pain no gain.
            Or no abundance.

            ABUNDANCE abun·dance [ ə-ˈbən-dəns ] “The ability to do what you need to do, when you need to do it”

            That’s how Pasha, a Russian friend of Dory had defined abundance — speaking of Dory, now Quintin was seeing how she was ahead of the herd, and a bit of a coal (slow) mine canary too. Quintin would have changed all the world’s dictionaries to have that new definition everywhere. What a task…

            Actually, that’s it! Quintin had feared the implications, as lots of people did.
            It would mean everything would be allowed. Everything would be true, even the most blatant contradictions would be harmoniously living side by side. Struggle would be needless, and all that would be needed to do would be to stop paddling upstream.
            What a mess it could be for salmons and control freaks as himself.

            Perhaps worse, it would change everything, even “past” events where everything would also be allowed, now.
            In-of-body travels (rather than the too classical “out-of-body”), meeting other selves appearing out of nowhere, talking with dead people, or sugarplum fairies, traveling instantaneously to meet Tchaikovsky and have him change his dying swan for a stuffed talking Mother Goose, flying, shape-shifting, manifesting objects out of thin air, the possibilities would be extraordinary… All in that physical reality where everyone was struggling to prove none of this was possible.
            But if everything would be allowed, then be it! And he would go and live in 23, Dragon Alley, Phœnix Ville, Sunnyvalley with Yann (and the others of course, if they wanted to) and do whatever they wanted to do.

            OK. That’s a deal then. Release the camouflages, open the watergates and leave the damn dams to beavers and loosers.

            Let’s insert the Shift, now.

            And let the fun continue, and worry wither away.

            ***

            Well, and what’s that Shift all about?

            Quintin’s friends Michaela and Elias had said about it :

            “You are also bored in the experiences that you have created to this point. You have experienced. You have created in the manner that you have designed previously. Now you choose to be creating in an expanded experience, allowing more of your awareness, more of an opening to consciousness, more of your own creativity and your own abilities, and you are discovering that your abilities are within physical focus limitless. You have merely limited yourselves as an element of your beliefs, but as you are also moving into acceptance of your beliefs, you are widening your awareness and you are allowing yourselves to view how many more abilities you hold and how very creative you are, and not creating your limitations with such severity. Those elements in your reality that have been thought to be impossible are not impossible!” 1

            #301

            Illi was quite pleased with the sand dragons.

            HHHMMM, they don’t repulse me like dragons usually do. I think it’s because they are sand dragons, and sand is so much nicer than slimy cold scales. Well! Illi thought, I really wouldn’t know if they are slimy or cold, because, for the love of all-that-is, I would not choose to venture that close!

            Illi chose to ignore her rather paradoxical musings on loving all that is, which would by definition include the beastly dragons, and turned her attention to the sand giant slouching patiently at the end of the beach.

            Now giants, that’s another thing entirely. I am quite enamoured of giants, and this one looks so familiar!

            Illi leaned back against the sand dragons bulky body and closed her eyes, reminiscing about her early years as Illi Fergusson, and her eccentric family.

            ~~~

            When Illi was a young child she rarely saw her parents, the eccentric Lord Gustard Willoughby Fergusson and his charmingly batty second wife, Floribunda Chaiise-Loriket. Illi stayed at home in the anscestral country pile in Dorset, Rubbingdon Hall, with Nanny Chraddock while her parents travelled the world in search of giant bones and artifacts. Their travels took them far and wide, from the jungles of South America to the deserts of North Africa; from the mountains of Spain to the arid eternity of the Australian outback.

            Illi used to play a game with Cranky (as she affectionately called nanny Chraddock) in the long months while her parents were away, called Wish House. Every room in the sprawling Elizabethan house was a different time and place, and the moment they entered the room they imagined themselves to be different people, in other times. Petunia Duster the maid loved to join in too; consequently not alot of housework got done, but with Gus and Flora always off travelling, nobody minded. Playing was, after all, so much more important than dust. In fact, a thick layer of dust made the rooms all the more mysterious and magical.

            #280

            When Rudy the myna had come back crashing on the boat, it all became suddenly a huge uncontrollable chaos.
            The hovering menacing clouds that were looming in front of them were coming closer at a dreadful speed, and even more concerning were the rocks that were appearing everywhere now, that they had more and more trouble to avoid in betwixt the turmoils and eddies.

            So they had finally come to the Great Rift, Bådul was thinking. The back of the legendary water dragon that noone was known to have crossed.

            But Bådul knew better.
            He howled orders to get everybody ready at their posts, and felt reassured when he saw that Austor was maneuvering with dexterity and confidence through the rift.
            He ignored the crazy laugh of Razkÿ, the madman who was now shouting with a manic laughter “We all gonna diiie! AHAHAHAH! DIE! DIE!” Then winking at Bådul and laughing again.

            :fleuron: :fleuron:

            A few months earlier, Northern Åsgurdy

            A huge cloaked figure was riding in the middle of the deserts. The saurhse, a bit small for its rider, was getting tired, but the man wanted to move before the night came. Åsgurdy had a climate which made travels uneasy on land, and only on these bipedal saurians they named saurhses, could Åsgurdians easily travel on the burning hot sands by day. Then, they could gain the high plateaus of rock and ice, where the temperature was kept cold by the high chilly winds. But at night, the deserts would be chilly too, and the cold-blooded creature he was mounting would require a shelter.

            He knew that such a shelter wouldn’t be far away now.
            That region was mostly uncharted as it was fairly remote from all known cities, but that strange man he had met had said he was a traveler who knew were he could find something priceless.
            At that time, Badul had felt he had nothing to lose, and said to himself “when in doubt, go for the experience”.
            He had felt he could trust that man known to him only by a strange name, something like Gheorg.
            There had been nothing boastful about him, and he had been kind to him. He had been the only person in the World he had known to have given him back his dignity as a human being, and even more, to have given him a reason to live.
            He owed him a lot, and perhaps even more as he was now drawing closer to the cave… that same cave which was a mere cross on the torn map he had been drawing hastily before vanishing almost preternaturally, living him a bit of money and that map…

            ~~~

            Roselÿn had felt the urge to move somewhere else. This land didn’t resonate with her energy, and that of Rëgkvist, and of the few eggs the dragon had managed to lay, none had actually been able to hatch.
            It had affected her so much that she had even retreated from her sisters’ usual talks through the glubolíns.
            She needed to move on.

            ~~~

            When he entered the cave, Badul was disappointed. He could feel there had been someone living here quite recently, but it was like the cave was now abandoned. He hoped he could have found more answers, but now it was again like burning sand slipping through his fingers.

            In a fit of rage, he took a boulder as big as him and threw it across the cave with a roar.
            Something was brought down by his huge force further down into the cave and he heard it quite distinctly.

            He tied up the saurhse at the entrance of the cave, and entered it with determination, ducking through the tunnel too narrow for his big baby-faced frame. Then he found something glowing. At first, he thought it was some gold, but what kind of fool had been living here before and had been in such a haste to move as to forget gold?

            It was not gold. It was something like a broken shell. The broken bits were like a jigsaw puzzle and he wished he could make it one, as he was attracted by the strange radiance of the thing.

            :fleuron: :fleuron:

            Austor did not believe his eyes…
            They had crossed the Rift, all three of the ships.
            And it was nothing like the dark void they had nearly expected behind.

            It was an open sea, glistening in the sun, and all hope had come back through them all.

            #79
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              These are excerpts from Yuki’s diary, explaining some of the details of the experiment called — Malvina’s story —.

              Note: for the reader not familiar with all the names here is a quick reminder:

              • Araili > Yann, Írtak, Sam, Jacob …
              • Armelle > Fiona, Arona, Tina, Qixi …
              • Rafaela > Dory, Illi, Becky, Rodney …
              • Yuki > Quintin, Al, Janice …

              September 12 th, 2007

              Today, an experiment has been launched by Quintin. Time will tell if it will bear some fruit, but the idea sounds good.
              Having people join in a story telling, and see what happens, what are the “lessons” one can draw from this…

              Armelle, Rafaela and Araili are already on the starting-blocks, though Quintin is not quite aware yet.

              I can hear some thoughts: Let’s say for the moment that there are no rules. We will see what prompts the desire for having rules…

              September 13 th

              Some of the people familiar with Janice and her friends’ adventures have already joined in with much enthusiasm.
              This first comment seems very promising.

              Right now, it feels easy and fun.

              Quintin seems to think that everything is very straightforward.
              The magical world with the cave in one part, separated from the “real” world. (Two Worlds, and he thinks that will be enough to content Rafaela, ahaha, how presumptuous)
              The first he sees as a representation of what psychologists think of as “subconscious”, and the other being the conscious, physical part.

              But of course, he thinks he knows better than that. He calls the first one “subjective” rather than subconscious, because it’s a translation of subjects which unfold in many related objects in the “objective” or physical world.
              That’s a good point, though a bit distorted. It would be better to say Malvina’s World is a translation of the subjective, in the manner of a Heroic Dimension.
              But the thing is, that he missed the point in thinking one World is more “real” than the other.
              We’ll be having some fun soon…

              First remark… The second comment of the story has been interrupted abruptly in the middle of a sentence. That is interesting. We will urge Quintin to leave it as it is, despite his feeling of it being awkward.
              We will appeal to his imagination.
              It seems he has heard the suggestion.

              September 14 th

              For the most part, the story starts to get much involvement. Lots of energies are being projected into it, and with every adjunct, each participant’s perception stretches to accommodate the changes and smooth out the bumps in their own sense of continuity.

              But as I expected, some challenges seem to appear already.
              Is it raining or not in that world?
              The question seems simple, but it is very profound and Fiona seems to struggle a bit with it, as is Quintin. The question frame itself [“that World”] shows where the difficulty lies.

              He seems to avoid the discrepancy and pretend that he has not seen it. Mmmm, avoiding the obstacles… that will very soon come right back in front of you dear Quintin, for Dory is quite playful.
              At least Fiona has been challenging Dory for not paying attention… Armelle’s ineffable loving ruthlessness!
              How will it unfold?
              Rafaela seems to be delighting herself as though she’s preparing some mischief, but Dory struggles in the “back”…

              September 15 th

              Dory is indeed very playful and her imagination is unrestrained. I extend much appreciation to this focus of Rafaela, especially as Quintin has to stretch his imagination to make things “fit”.

              Quintin is still avoiding the issues that appear sporadically and prefers to stay focused on his own perception of the story… Careful Quintin :face-smile:

              Yann joins the fun —objectively, that is, for Araili has been present already since the very beginning.

              September 16 th

              Halcyons days…
              My dear friend Archie is answering some of Quintin and Yann’s questions.
              Something starts to dawn on Quintin. But his mind is on other matters.

              He understands that the energies of the writers are melding in writing the story, but he still tends to think that they blend completely.

              September 18 th

              Quintin has been drawing some of the characters of the story. It’s interesting.
              He had good insights, as Yann will tell him later that his clothes today were exactly the same as the colours he had drawn.

              Characters drawn:

              • Mavina, Leörmn the dragon and weaszchilla, Írtak, Huÿgens (and Fjutch), Arona and Illi (the gripshawk)
              • Malika, Quintin, Yann, Fiona and Dory

              Interestingly, Fiona resolves her issues in her cave.
              Dory too, but she did not need the cave to do this.

              September 21 st

              For Quintin, the story seems to lose all common sense, as some characters move from World to World. You could have expected that Quintin!
              And Dory pops in and out, in her mind, in her dream state, or in future timeline mixed with present or past one.
              Quintin will soon realize that he himself is doing this constantly, though he does not register it.

              But the worst thing for him is that there are bleedthroughs in between Worlds. The Reality Times newspaper was brilliant Rafaela, a perfect trigger for the beliefs that the Worlds are closed and impermeable to each other!

              Archie has been answering new questions about that story and this had been quite interesting for all of the participants.
              There is much for them to digest from the realization that each of them had been creating their own versions of the stories through their perceptions. And that they were each having their version of the story, drawing from each other’s input, like a conductor of an orchestra incorporating some instruments.

              Of course, some things still matter, and one of the point of the story is also to discover these.

              September 22 nd

              Quintin has been drawing new characters.

              Characters drawn:

              • Båd Al’Guz (Bådul), BelleDora, Buckberry the dragon, the twin dragon eggs, Archibald the parrot, Sanso the Wanderer
              • Illi Fergusson, another Illi that Quintin has tried to sneak in as a bait for Dory, with hints that she is disengaged (or “dead” in common vernacular) and merges with others of her focuses…
              • Jacqueline Bleomelen (Nanny Gibbon), Lord Wrick, his great grand children the twins Cuthbert and India Louise, Manfred, William P. Jobsworth the painter

              A new perception trick: Dory felt relieved upon seeing the moth feelers of BelleDora.
              She had at first thought they were whiskers, which was not Quintin’s intent…

              September 23 rd

              Quintin seems to have connected to a map drawn by Lord Wrick, when the old Lord has started to document his great grand children travels.

              Quintin had tried to put some annotations on this fragment, but he doesn’t yet completely understand that his perception of this World, though accurate, is only valid in this present moment, and may change at any time.

              Up to now, here are the names he could find:

              • North: the Icy Lands, and Dragon Cemeteries
              • Center: Goldfindely, homeland of Arona, connected to the Warring Kingdoms of Lan’ork by the Isthmus of Ghört’s Hammer. The Isthmus of the Dragon Head seems to lead to Malvina’s cave and hideout. Mount Elok’ram is pointed as the highest place of the World yet discovered. Three main rivers are drawn: in the ancient myths of the people of this land, they represent the three Daughters of Ghört, weavers of men’s destinies: Tibreÿa, Uleÿa, and Snimeÿa. Snimeÿa cuts the thread of life, which is shown as the river leads after many meanders to the Marshes of Doom.
              • Far East, North: the Land of Båd Al’Guz, Åsgurdy. A harsh mountainous land of islands and seas.
                Both parts of the World seem to ignore each other till now, as they are separated by the Great Rift, which in the past has deterred many intrepid navigators.
              • South: the Desert Lands. Illi’s birthplace, rarely explored by humans thus unaware of most of its marvels, gripshawks nomadic tribes included.

              When he discussed Arona’s village with Fiona, Quintin had the vision of some dolphin-like creatures, but bright yellow. They are called golfindels and are mostly seen on the northern shores of Arona’s homeland, which is thus called Golfindely.

              #167
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Sanso was used to travelling alone. He’d been exploring this cave on his own for several years now, and it suited him, on the whole. No need to confer, or compromise, or rush to keep up, or slow down to let others catch up. He could follow his own impulses without hindrance. He did meet others on his travels, but only at the cave entrances, or rather, the times and places that the cave entrances revealed. He never felt an urge to settle though at any of these places, always compelled to return to the caves mysterious and ever changing labyrinthine tunnels.

                The disembodied voices and coloured wispies were always with him in the tunnels. Sometimes one would be louder than another for awhile, then another would assume prominence. The bleakest coldest times were when he wasn’t noticing them; that’s when he found himself going round and round in circles, lost in the maze.

                The electric blue wispy had been around alot lately, comforting him with little explosions of pinprick blue lights, and a golden mustard yellow one. English, not French mustard, he reminded himself, although he didn’t think it mattered and wondered why he’d thought it.

                Sanso had been almost crawling for some time in a particuarly cramped and difficult tunnel; bent double for most of the time, his back was aching and he longed to stretch out. The thought of going back, retracing his steps, was unbearable, so he continued, and tried not to be discouraged.
                ‘Find something to appreciate, Appreciation is the key’ the voice of the blue wispy sounded amused, but in a kindly and endearing sort of way. Harumph, muttered Sanso, easy to say! It would help if there was something to appreciate!

                Just then Sanso heard another voice, muttering something over and over again. ‘… dragon egg dragon… egg dog egg … dragon dog egg…’ What the heck was that all about?

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