Search Results for 'vince'

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  • #4539

    Fox, layered in warm clothes, looked dubiously at the hellishcopter. He had assumed it was fantastic and awe inspiring creature from the underworld. But it wasn’t.

    “It’s a carpet with a circular wooden platform,” he said, feeling a bit disappointed. He noticed the steam that formed out of his mouth with every word and it made him feel cold despite the numerous layers around him.
    The carpet was floating limply above its shadow on the snow. It looked old and worn out by years of use. The reds blues and greens were dull and washed-out, and it was hard to tell apart the original motives from stains. Oddly enough it was clear of dust.

    “Not just a carpet, said Lhamom with her usual enthusiasm illuminating her face. It’s a magic carpet.” She wore that local coat of them which looked so thin compared to his multiple layers, but she had assured him it was warm enough for far worse temperatures. Steam was also coming out of her mouth when she talked.

    Fox was still not convinced. “And how fast does it go?”

    “Fast enough,” said Lhamom. “You’ll all be back in no time to the forest.”
    “Isn’t there a risk for the luggage to fall off? I don’t see any practical way to attach them.”
    “Oh! Sure,” retorted Lhamom with an amused look. “You won’t fall from the platform unless someone pushes you out.”
    Fox winced and gulped. His mind had showed him someone shaken by an uncontrollable movement and pushing him off the platform above the sharp mountain tops, and even if it his fantasy had no sound, it was not very reassuring.

    Lhamom looked at him sharply. “Are you afraid of heights?” she asked.
    Fox shrugged and looked away at Rukshan who was busy packing the camp with Olliver and their guide.
    “What if I am?” Fox said.
    “I have some pills,” she said, foraging in her numerous pockets. She brandished victoriously an old little wooden box that she opened and showed him brown pills that looked and smelled like they had been made by dung beetles.

    Rukshan had finished his packing and was approaching them with a messenger bag.
    “Don’t play with him too much, he said, in his current state Fox’s will swallow everything, except food.” Rukshan and Olliver laughed. Fox didn’t know what to make of it, feeling too exhausted to find clever retorts. Lhamom winked at him and put the pills back in her pocket.

    Rukshan put his hand on Fox’s shoulder. “We’re going home through a sand portal, he said giving putting a hand on his bag. I’ve gathered coloured sand from the different places we visited and Lhamom had brought some holy dripping water collected from the running nose of the lama headmaster of Pulmol Mountain when he last had a cold.”
    That sounded a little complicated to Fox and he didn’t try to make sense of it.
    “We’ll only go on the hellishcopter to fly throught the portal with all the stuff we collected. But I need time to make the sand portal, and from what you reported the dogs have said, we may only have little time available before that thing you have felt come to us.”

    Fox started. With his bowel adventures and Rukshan’s previous dismissal of the matter, Fox had forgotten about the odd presence he had smelled and that had seemed to preoccupy the hunting dogs at night.
    “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to not let worry crept back in his mind.
    “I first thought it was fantasies coming out of your imagination because of your poor health condition, but when I told Lhamom this morning she told me what it was.” Rukshan hesitated.
    “What? asked Fox, his heartbeat going faster.
    “Some kind of ancient spirit roaming through the mountain. It feeds of human flesh and is attracted by magic. It was liberated by an earthquake recently and it that Olliver and Tak felt. Up until now the dogs, who are the gardians of the mountains, were enough to ward it off for us despite the presence of the baby snoot. But now that Lhamom has brought the spoon and that I’m going to use magic for the portal, it may get bolder and the dogs will not be enough to stop it. Fortunately it only gets out at night, so we have ample enough time, Rukshan said cheerfully. Olliver also is exhausted and he can’t use his teleporting abilities for all of us. By using a sand portal I may even be able to lay a trap for the spirit when we leave, but I need to begin now and let’s pray the weather remains clear and windless.”

    It took some time for the meaning and the implications of flesh eating to sink into Fox’s mind. He looked nervously at the sky where it seemed a painter had splashed a few white strokes of clouds with his giant brush. Were they still or moving? Fox couldn’t tell. He looked back at Rukshan and Lhamom.
    “What can I do to help?”
    “I need you to explain the plan to the dogs so that they release the spirit when I give the signal.”

    #124
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      “Yes, dear, it’s all true, you’re dead as a doornail. Now, please take a seat, and be quiet.”

      If not for her rebelling nature, Granola would have left it at that, and would have jumped onto the glimmer train into the light for a happy ever after. But she had to question. “And err… Sir, are there any other options? Ways I could come back, and help?”.

      “Oh dear, don’t tell me you want to be one of them.”

      The disdain in the tone of the white robed dolent man was enough to convince her. She had to be part of them, whoever they were.

      As soon as she had signed the form, everything disappeared.

      She waited,… a long time… cried, pleaded even. Almost prayed, but mostly brayed. A long time.

      And then she lost it.

      And the blue turban guy showed up. * Popped * in.

      “Welcome to the Pop-in Tribe!” he said charmingly. “With a little bit of focus, you will find the essence of it to be not so bitter after all…”

      :bee:

      #4453
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Liz had an idea, and was glad that the others were all out on a day trip to the museum so that she could think about it without interruptions. It had occurred to her that there was probably a theme right under their noses regarding the multitudes of non endings in the stories. Where exactly had they all ended without actually ending?

        Sure enough, the first one she looked at seemed promising with the mention of sheets:

        “Yurick woke up from another spell of dreams. The patterns of the bedsheets where as though his newly inserted tile was creating a strong combination with other tiles.
        In his puzzlement, he forgot to take a physical dream snapshot…”

        Liz had had a personal breakthrough with bedsheets recently, and was pleased with this encouraging start.

        When Liz looked at the next non ending of a story, she wondered if this would prove to be a theme: the characters themselves had gone missing.

        “I haven’t heard a word from Lavender for the longest time, Lilac was wondering, When was the last time? Lavender, where ARE you?”

        Liz had a slight jolt when she saw the non ending of the story after that, worried that she would find a trend of herself being the last writer to comment. What would that mean, she wondered?

        “Minky was looking smug. “Enjoying the ride?”

        Ending with a question? Well, that was something to think about. Liz was relived to find she wasn’t the last writer to write in the next story:

        “For once, Arona was completely unconcerned about continuity.
        “I wonder if we could harness the power of the wind to create a flash mob to amuse and entertain me?” she suggested.
        Vincentius pondered for a moment “I did once employ a hamster to power a night light, so I don’t see why not.”

        Smiling at the continuity remark, Liz pondered the nature of the message in this one. Anything can be created to amuse… can it be that easy?

        Another nasty jolt as Liz read the last entry in the following story, considering the irritating few days she had just had with the online payment company:

        “She clicked with her dysfunctionning mouse and invalidated the transaction again.”

        Well, Liz said to herself, I certainly hope that little chuckle will have helped change the online transaction situation going on here presently!

        #4092

        In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          hair power exit seem despite themselves muttered attention
          bloody future eyes waiting needed
          began listen vincentius miss added nor direction itself

          #3866

          Vincentius took one last look at the children, wondering if he should give them all a hug and bid them farewell. But they were happily engrossed in smearing Fanella’s collection of Venetian glass with marmite and peanutbutter paint effects, so he slipped out without a word and left them to it.

          Shivering in the damp chill air, he looked nervously at Arona. “Where are you taking me? I’m not supposed to leave without permission, I might get sent back to the detention camp on the island.” He shuddered at the thought.

          “Don’t be silly,” snapped Arona, “Do pull yourself together, you are but a shadow of your former self. Yes, yes, I know it must have been awful,” she said impatiently at Vincentius’ self pitying look, “You can tell me all about Tikfijikoo Spider Camp later. But now we must hurry. Come on!”

          #3856

          “Quick Vincentius,” hissed Arona impatiently. “Ditch these slot nosed blats and follow me. I have the salubantum!”

          #3835

          “Pssst, Vincentius.”

          Vincentius swung around in alarm, dropping his feather duster in the process. The potted spider plant appeared to be talking to him.

          “It’s me, Arona,” said Arona, peeping up from behind the plant and barely managing to suppress an eye roll at the sight of Vincentius.

          “Tsk, tsk, what in Flove’s name have you done to yourself?

          Vincentius continued to gape silently at her.

          I see the sight of my beautiful self has rendered you momentarily speechless; well, don’t worry about that now. I’ve come to rescue you!”

          She beamed proudly at him.

          #3832

          “‘allo? ‘allo, is Fanella there? Zis is ‘er friend, Mirabelle, wiz an urgent message.”

          “A massage, you say? For Fanella?” Vincentius covered the phone with his hand and shouted “Oy! get down off there, you rascals, and go and call your mother, she’s wanted on the phone. Somebody about a massage.”

          “No, no, a message! I must speak to Fanella about ‘er fiance,” the woman said.

          “Well bloody speak properly then,” Vincentius muttered. “Bloody foreigners!”

          “Vincentius, for goodness sake, can’t you keep these children under control!” Fanella said crossly, irritated at being interrupted from her massage. “Couldn’t you have just taken a message? And get this place tidied up before Gustave comes over!”

          Vincentius scowled, his once handsome features faded with drudgery. He’d been a fool to leave the old country, notwithstanding the destruction. He should have chanced it, dodged the bombs, he’d have been a free man still. This life of servitude as a fostered refugee wasn’t what he’d hoped for when he set off in the overcrowded dinghy all those months ago. Cold, wet and tired, he’d stepped ashore full of anticipation. But nobody had told him just how awful the weather was, and how dreadful the children. Spoilt wilful little rotters! No discipline, no matter how hard he tried to control them. No wonder everyone had refugee childminders these days, who but the destitute and homeless would want to look after the unspeakable brats?

          “In the Spotted Dick with a tart, you say?” Fanella snorted into the phone. “I’ll be there in ten minutes”

          #3831

          “Sorry to bother you again, Ed.”

          This was a lie; Evangeline wasn’t at all sorry. There was nothing she loved better than to be the bearer of bad news and she was rather pleased to have an excuse to call Ed Steam so soon after their last conversation.

          “The Cackle Insanitization Committee contacted me. Their spies reported that Gustave had a meeting with that awful whinging Bea woman from Cackletown.”

          Ed was shocked. “Gustave? Gustave Butterworth, the scientist? He’s supposed to be working for us, isn’t he?”

          Evangeline sniffed dismissively, eager to pass on her next tantalising morsel. She tried to keep the excitement out of her voice and sound appropriately serious.

          “The other concerning thing is that the Contumacious Cackler is in town. There have been several verified hearings of him.”

          “The Contumacious Cackler!” Ed’s horrified reaction was music to Evangeline’s ears, although she was not entirely sure who the Contumacious Cackler was or why the mention of his name elicited such horror. She decided to ask.

          “It’s rather a sad story. His mother ran away from home when he was just 3 years old, due to his father’s incessant cackling. The Contumacious Cackler never saw his mother again and he grew up with an obsessive hatred of cackling. He vowed to put an end to cackling. He cackles so evilly that he stirs up trouble wherever he goes. His dastardly plan is to create so much resistance to cackling that the people are inflamed sufficiently to rise up against cacklers. He is reported to be responsible for the demise of cackling in 2 of the provinces.”

          #3758

          In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            Mother Shirley had realized the truth.

            How could she have missed it before, with the discontinuity, and impossible timelines. There was only one explanation at Lizette’s reappearances, and the Aurora’s strange incidents.

            There was no Mars, no space travel, much less any artificial intelligence, all was an elaborate simulation, designed to make them stay in the illusion — an illusion that was showing at the seams. Lizette was probably a distracted agent of the Orchestrators.

            In all likelihood, they were all in some secret base in a desert, maybe under a large dome and had never left Earth.
            She’d laughed before about the nuts who believed that there had been no moon landing, that satellites didn’t exist, that oceans couldn’t stay stuck on a spinning ball, and that humans never managed to actually go into space…

            Well, creating a vast space comedy was a better way to make everyone believe we’re the only sentient creatures in the universe; a vast and well-known, if not almost and reassuringly empty, Universe.
            All that was better than knowing you are a being in a farm-ant, with Flove knows what peering at it from outside…

            That or she was completely mad. She couldn’t tell, or they would lock her up, blame it on space travel disease. But she had to tell, had to convince them the comedy was over, they could all go home, and build a new world.
            But who could she tell, when all had been seeing a cave’s shadows all their lives?

            Good old organized religion and metaphors maybe could help, after all… The wave wasn’t over for a reason. She just had to repurpose the tool.

            #3503
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              The Flying Fish Inn was passsed down to Abcynthia (the childrens mother) from her father, who had a boarding house during the gold rush. He died just after the mine closed and Abcynthia closed the place up and moved to the city where she went to university and met her husband Fred (name to be arranged later).

              Fred was a journalist who aspired to write a science fiction novel. He convinced his wife to give up her career as a corporate lawyer, and raise a family at the old inn in the outback, while he write his novel and earned a rudimentary income from writing articles online, enough to live on. Just after their 4th child was born, Abcynthia had had enough, and left the family to pursue her career in the city.

              Fred’s sister Aunt idle was at a loose end at the time, needing to keep a low profile and “disappear” for reasons to be discovered, and agreed to come and help Fred with the children. Fred’s cranky mother had already been living with them for a few years but was not up to the responsibility of the four children while Fred was busy writing.

              A few months after Abcynthia’s disappearance, some unexplained incidents occurred in the area around the ghost town and the defunct mines ~ possibly connected to the sci fi novel Fred was writing in some way ~ which Fred wrote articles about, which went viral in the popular imagination and thirst for weird tales, and visitors started coming to the town.

              Aunt Ilde started to informally put them up in rooms, and enjoyed the unexpected company of these strangers which relieved her increasing boredom, then as the visitors increased (not so very many, but two or three a week perhaps) decided to officially reopen the boarding house and a B and B.

              Fred, though, must have had some kind of a meltdown because he left a cryptic note saying he’d be back, and to carry on without him for the foreseeable future. Nobody really knew why, or where he had gone.

              #3493
              Jib
              Participant

                Soul loss and soul recovery
                Whenever you are in a situation with intense pain, grief, loss, or intense joy, excitement, you may lose part of your soul, or vital energy, it’s also called dissociation by the psychologist. You usually do it to make it stop, or it is an automatic action to stop the intensity of what’s going on.
                You separate yourself form an aspect of yourself, and you are not aware of it, most of the time. It can manifest as chronic fatigue, depression, feeling numb, addictive behavior, etc.
                In order to get back this energy, you have to reclaim it. And as a shaman, you do it through the process of soul recovery. Today you’re going to learn how to do it.
                It is relatively simple. First, you are going to go in the lower world, find your main power animal. Thank it again for all that it does for you and ask them if they are the one to help you in the process of soul recovery. If not, ask them to lead you to your soul recovery animal. When you get acquainted to this new animal, you can ask them their name, and how you can call them when you need them. Thank them for their help and presence with you.
                When you do a soul recovery, you may not know what you are going to recover. You may not really know what you have lost, or you may not be aware of symptoms. Just tell your Soul Recovery Power animal (SRPA) that you want to recover a part of your soul that you are missing at the moment. They’ll guide you through the process. Follow them, trust them.
                They may take you through different places or spaces and times to go find that lost soul piece. It may be from your childhood, from another life, or dream situations.
                You are going to be presented to that piece of your soul and you have to ask them what happen. Most of the time they are frightened and don’t want to come back. You have to convince them, and ask them what you have to do to show them that you’ll not do the same “mistake” that make them leave in the first place. It may require you change something in your behavior, in your attitude toward certain things, it might be simple or huge. Depends on what you find. And it’s up to you to see if you’re up to the challenge.
                you can also take some time with your power animals to get to know them better and learn from them.
                If you don’t know how to manage the situation with the lost piece of soul, you can ask your soul recovery power animal to help you do the “negotiation” part
                but you’ll have to do what’s required by the soul so that it comes back definitively sts
                If you still have time, you can go on a second recovery.
                And remember, this is not a race, take your time, don’t rush, enjoy the journey.

                Eric
                Before the music starts, I have the feeling of “Nagini” my snake power animal: it’s looking patiently at me with golden eyes. I also get the first impression of a spirit panda as a soul retrieving power animal. There are two aspects of it, a docile and friendly one, and another more fearsome, they seem to shift depending on his mood. As the music starts, I sift through few fleeting impressions (one of a lemur), then some stronger.
                The panda comes back but I also have other animals who seem to present themselves in order, as if in different directions, and I remember there are no rules as their number, so I let myself welcome them. The panda is on the right, it seems connected to childhood memories, (call it “Panda”) then, on middle right, there is a spider (“Anansi”), it connects to the jumping spiders I’ve seen a few times the past days, and
                one this morning I put outside instead of letting it drown.Middle left, coming from above and perched on a tree, there is a firebird/phoenix (“Fawkes”). There is another one, I remember a bit later that appeared further left, as if from the direction behind me, it’s an ape (“Hanuman”).
                The serpent circles around them. I have the impression I can choose any of them, and they will lead me to different realizations, and I have the impression of the buddhist emanations, where enlightened being manage to split themselves into many as one. So I decide to ride them all at once. Actually, I start with the first three ones, and as I ride on the land, I suddenly remember the ape which was very discrete initially,but seems to be willing to show me stuff too.
                The land we ride into is dark, almost volcanic in nature, as if scorched. There are trails that spread to different directions, and each ride goes down one of them. There are various visions, moments and memories from the past connected with strong emotions.
                At one end, there is a little boy that shoots magma out of his incandescent body. It irradiates the land through veins of lava, and as it cools down it darkens the land even more. He seems to be caught up in a circle of rage or fear, fear of never seeing the light again. I listen to him without words, and realize he’s afraid of letting go.
                I’ll show him the light is covered by his own cinders, and he needs to cool down and let nature grow back again around him, and I’m showing him I’m willing to help. It seems to resolve as light opens in the sky, and a tree starts to grow again… At the end, I seem to connect the scene to certain memories.
                There is another one that comes in, where the ape is doing a certain pose where it walks on its hands. The posture catches my attention, as if to remind me of something. I’m encouraged to turn around to see the world as it sees it. As I do it, the world changes and spins, and the music starts to indicate the end of the trip. I thank the animals and finish with the snake before leaving…
                the end
                well, it’s very condensed, there was lots happening
                It’s like I was doing many stuff at the same time

                Flove
                (no recollection)

                Jib
                I have difficulties stabilizing my attention first, there is this kind of veiled perception I’ve been having lately. As I call my power animal for soul recovery I have a strong impression of a bear and then a raven. There is a kind of snake too, and I also feel a wild boar. I refocus back on the whale and say I’ll come back later. The whale leads me in the depth of the earth to a magma chamber. It becomes scrambled again and I just take a moment to refocus on my penguin.
                First soul recovery
                I ask him to find the piece of soul that would be best for me to recover now, and we go fly above something. The penguin flies like a rocket, super fast. I soon find a kid feeling presence. I have no real visual, and I keep having visuals of lemur, or raccoon interfering.
                Then I feel that the presence is also camouflaging behind projections to be left alone. He left me when I was little, around 8 because the world seemed to disappointing. I have some difficulties at first to convince him to come back with me, and I show him what I’m already doing that’s fun and that’s worth doing and exploring. After a while, he agrees and I feel a nice warm feeling inside my belly as he is reintegrating me. I thank him for coming back. The only thing I need to do is take the time to reassure myself when the world seems too dangerous.
                Visiting the bear and the raven
                Then I decide to go back visit the bear and the raven.
                I’ve already seen them before and they seem to be there for me. There is an impression of power with the bear and also mother here for her kids. With the raven, it’s more a mystical stuff, and the power of observation and seeing through things.
                I am offered a kind of raven skull symbol of power and energy manipulation staff or something like that. I take it and it feels quite powerful, I have the impression the energy or the “spirits” would follow it when I demand it. Like make blocked energy move.
                Second soul recovery
                I decide to do a second soul recovery and ask the whale to lead me. I have the impression of changing plane, the focus is different, I am more on the middle world, and we go somewhere icy like Antarctic. Maybe near a shipwreck. There is a man, depressed and gloomy. I begin to ask him why he’s here, but he seems to want to come back and don’t ask anything. I feel very warm and loving. The drums begin to beat the return and I thank everyone for participating and come back. Saying I’ll take time to assimilate.
                Eric’s account remind me of a few stuff
                that reminded me a few stuff too because at one time I had to follow a spider and with the raven I flew over a magma land and the raven became a phoenix to be able to fly because it was so hot
                thanks I forgot that

                Tracy
                went down the stone steps, the unicorns on the left looked up as I passed. Zebra joined me from the right, said thanks but forgot his name! Then a white bear joined me, said his name was Waldo (or at least that name would do for now, impression)
                He was huge but was very light on his feet the whole time. Came to a tall tree with a single very red apple on it. The white bear scampered up the tree and I followed. Various other fruit but mainly the red apple stood out.
                At the top of the tree leveled out to a large plaza with gameboard design, the white bear demonstrated frolicking from one part to another playfully leaping in lightness.
                Flash to me as a small child being woken up in the night by concerned parents for nasty medicine for chicken pox.
                Same house but in the field behind, me as a small child alone by the wigwam of sticks dad made, frowning, alone. Next door to the neighbours pond, frozen over. White bear kept dancing on the thin ice part that we didn’t skate on, huge heavy bear, such a light step didn’t break the ice
                Zebra was hanging around incidentally, kept feeling reassuring warm breath and muzzle on my shoulder. Breathing restrictions started, left the pond, down a path in the woods, came to a fork. Went left ~ papers everywhere, letters, words, snowed under with words and letters, monkeys pulling sheafs and sheafs of letters and papers and words.
                Then a school of tiny silver fishes swan inside me and started chomping at all the letters in my solar plexus and spewing out coloured threads and ribbons from my mouth.
                Breathing difficult. (several times just sank into intense colours for awhile with no imagery, plenty purple and green). I started doing sort of swimming motions with my arms with the breathing and fishes, had a sudden blast of energy in the chest and then later a much stronger one just before the video ended.
                I should add the impression of less thinking/intellectualizing, less buried under a mountain of words, in favour of more purely physical expression

                #3400

                If the sabulmantium was to be trusted, the beanstalk was a tangle of many paths, and the main and easiest accesses down its dangling twirly greenish tentacles were all outside of the city walls, in a zone where some lords managed to rule pockets of mass beliefs and a bunch of unattractive mongrel mobsters.

                “Sounds potential adventure material” Mandrake had had the nerve to say when they’d packed.
                “No it isn’t” Arona had said.
                Then with more gusto “NO IT ISN’T” as though to convince all the sleepy tarts of the nymphouse below her rented room.

                More doubts had sunken their claws in her tender heart, and a gulp of whatever astral cup didn’t seem in hindsight a worthy deal for all her troubles. Nonetheless, she was a woman of her word, which was probably why she wasn’t of many. Too much trouble being of all of them, whatever that meant.

                “Honestly Mandrake, keeping you on track is worse than herding… dragons.”
                She would have said sheep, but she wasn’t so rude yet. Mandrake could have taken that too badly, and he would again prove useful to distract the guards of the Southern Post. That’s where she decided to go, as with all the heat, it had to be the one less guarded.

                Indeed, when she arrived, as planned, the gate was badly manned, and sleepy soldiers where reaching for the rare spots of shadow.
                She decided to make a run for it. The soldiers didn’t look very fit. She started to go, thinking about zigzagging between the air bottles littering the plaza, when she felt a tug pulling her back by the cloak, almost sending her flying off her butt.

                FUCK!” she shouted as silently as she could. “You again! I thought I told you not to follow me! Mandrake, attack! Go for the balls!”

                She was in a fury, but Mandrake licked his paw with a disgusted look on his face that meant “Hnhn, not going for that, sweetie. You’re on you own to herd that dragon, my lovely pooh.”

                “Shhht!” the guy said with a bit smile.
                “Don’t shush me, you… ninnyhammer!”
                She didn’t know where the last word came from, but they sure felt good, although not quite rude enough.
                “Oh, the lady is a pirate who knows her insults.” he answered with his cocky smile.
                “Don’t mock me, you mooncalf”
                “You were trying to sneak out, were you?”
                “Why do you care, hobbledehoy?”
                “The guards have aircon chain-mail and armours, see, look at those bottles on their backs… How could you beat them running with your heavy cloak?”
                “Maybe Mr Snollygoster has a better suggestion?”
                “Of course I have, if you care to follow me, Ms Mumpsimus.”

                Arona was almost speechless. Not keen on following any stranger, she asked her guts, and they seemed to have a liking for the handsome fellow. It stirred old remembrance of going with the flow tactics, and when she did actually follow him, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he and Mandrake were already ahead in one of the alleys.

                “Oh, no, let him have the keys to some secret tunnel, I won’t go for another sewer escape!”
                As if her guardien angel has heard her secret prayer, it happened that the stranger had some strange stone key in his bag, opening a secret wall entrance.

                “Oh.” was all she conceded to the stranger.
                Nonplussed he offered her his hand “George” he presented himself still with the same broad smile.
                She took his hand haughtily, and entered the vaulted tunnel, not telling him yet her name, in case she felt like choosing a sexy and mysterious code name. She could trust no one…

                “Traitor” she hissed at Mandrake who was purringly looking at the strangers’ boots.

                #3283

                When Huhu arrived at his destination, Irina was sunbathing to the last rays of a big red gorgeous sunset that painted the waves in iridescent shades of purple.
                At the same time, the sun’s course had already started a new day on the shores of New Zealand, where her sister was living, and she surely would be thrilled. Long had she waited for the 2222-2-22 marker.
                Here, in Hawaii, they would still be in 2222-2-21, for a few more hours.
                Irina started to shiver. 22°C her watch read. As if she needed to be any more quirky about this date…

                “Good boy!” she said to the parrot, taking the key it was carrying. Huhu tittered in contentment, cracking some of the pistachios she fed him distractedly.

                She’d just received additional information from the Management. Elusive as usual, and leaving a great deal to interpretation, including the interdiction.

                They’d promised to get her her dream island as a retirement plan. Some said it was the original land of the mermaids (who used to have as much feathers as Rio Carnival’s samba dancers), right off Italy’s Amalfi’s coast. Among its perks, it boasted to incorporate 8 staff, and a private grotto — that, if anything else than her fine waist line, would surely entice Sanso into other steamy booty calls.
                She’d seen the pictures of the properties, her first thought though was that she needed to shoot the interior decorator. In short, it was almost her moral duty to get it, and change the decor. On the whole, she was convinced the island would do her good.

                So, when she looked back at the previous instructions to see how good she’d done on her mission’s objectives, she shrugged a little. She’d understood instinctively right when it was delivered that it was a clever cipher, especially given the late date shift. So she had reinterpreted the actual commands, and leisurely waited for the travellers to appear, and get comfy. By now, she was certain they trusted her telepathic commands well enough, so that solved the trust conundrum.
                Basically, she was a major proponent of her own interpretation of old Ho’oponopono rituals. Instead of the usual mantra “I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.” hers was a bit more straightforward and was around the lines of “Green sickness to you. Peace be with you, and bugger off.
                Said a few times with proper intonation and inner work, and it was know to her to alter dramatically any block or resistance into a great flow of pure unfettered energy. So she had adamant faith that all she needed to do to complete her mission was to focus on herself and solve the resistance within by letting go.

                The last message was short.

                22 the code * whale that * BO

                It could only mean one thing. 22 was a clever cipher meaning conundrum as in a catch 22, but also an obvious reference to the temperature. So it could only mean one thing: tamper with the code on the 22nd, and send it on the way to the whales, with a bug on it.

                “Mr R, please, fetch!”

                The discrete, yet always present robot caught the key with grace, and on her careful instructions, proceeded to alter the code of the key.

                Irina was enjoying herself immensely, and found it a pity nobody could witness her true genius. “The ones who’ll read that key later, well… they are in for such a wild goose chase!”
                The second part of St Germain’s encoded hologram was now ripe with wonderful and bewildering information about blubbits and the magic kingdom of Peasland with obscure and arcane references of magic numbers like 57, that would have anybody sane turn mad as a hatter in no time. Hopefully the whales would be immune to the nonsense, but probably not humans.

                Now was the final part of the plan.

                “Mr R?”
                “Madam?”
                “I hope you are ready for this delicate reinsertion mission. Do you still have that octopus suit of yours ready?”
                “Of course, Madam. Right away Madam.”

                #3222

                With years of intense Happiness training, and being herself a certified Happiness Coach™ in Rainbow Unified Bliss®, Sadie knew when to notice she was stuck and, even better, what to do about it.
                Techniques varied: some focusing on breathing, others on following impulse and all that, but most of them had in common that rabid thoughts had to be put to sleep, and the focus had to be kept on the immediate now.
                The beauty of the Hawaii island was easy on the eyes, although she could still find objections lurking in the corner of her mind that the beaches were scarce on this island, with many shores a blistering hot pan of molten lava rocks ceaselessly beaten by the waves.
                Then the sound of her companions came rousing some disturbance in her Rainbow thoughts, as she found out was mostly an annoyance with herself and her hair, the neat bowl cut starting to look a bit rugged on the edges.

                Again, the rabid thoughts were back. She had to go deeper, cling to a joyful experience, that pure moment of satisfaction. But the flow and inpouring of love stopped again like a sea anemone retracting at the light touch of a clown fish.

                She restrained the thought of loudly using the F word, and as well refrained herself from the desire to delete everything.
                She noticed a few tadpoles which weren’t here before, slithering in a little pool of water next to the spot where she was. She’d almost forgotten about the singing frogs. That such little creature could do so marvelous feats of logistics rekindled her spirits.
                What if she could just harness a little bit of her own energy. She started to list the things she was good at, besides haircuts.

                “I’m fucking good at limitations, and following other’s expectations” was what she came up with after some minutes listing some things without much conviction.
                “Bugger Linda Paul, and those ninc…” There it is she noticed again the thought.
                That’s what it’s about…

                You have to be nice and be quiet, Sadeline, the voice of her mean Breton grand-mother was saying. To which her equally loathable aunts would chime in religious rubbish of being nice and saintly and all.
                You have to be nice and be quiet, Sadeline, or go out of my way and die alone.
                She’d tried to exorcise the old goat, to rid of her, to appease her, to connect to the better version of herself that she is now since her transition. Well, nothing worked. She couldn’t find the angle. The old woman was still to her core a haunting and menacing presence with her mean irate insensitive lack of professed love.
                Maybe they’d developed better techniques in 2222, she suddenly thought. Of course…
                And then, Linda Paul wouldn’t have to know.

                “Girls?” she said in a sweet imperative voice (and slightly raucous, for the air was dry) “what do you think about having ourselves pay a visit to the local techromancer, I’ve seen the signs everywhere on the way to the beach. It’ll be a fun stop on our mission”.

                The three divas moaned under the sun, not specially enthusiastic at the effort, but then, Cedric, still himself haunted by the Russian’s vision managed to convince the others that some romance or exorcism or both, would do them great.

                #3150

                “Sadie! psst!” Pseu whispered. “Come with me while they’re getting prepared, they’ll be ages sorting those hoops and bums out.”
                “Where are we going?”
                “To the Estate, I want to show you the new KILT tiles and the links to the thread in 2014.”
                “But I’m having enough difficulty keeping the threads of this thread in order, Pseu, really!”
                “They’re connected, it will all start to make sense, trust me!” Pseu replied. “Finn the whale has just made an appearance: in the Gibraltar waters.”
                “How can that possibly be connected to Versailles?” Sadie looked unconvinced.
                “Trust me” repeated Pseu. “It will become clear when you’ve seen the new tiles.”

                #3022
                Jib
                Participant

                  “And now, breathe in, a little bit more… and let it out.”

                  Amanda didn’t think it possible for her chest to expand more than it already had. She swayed her body, hoping that maybe it would allow more air in. It was useless, she had the impression she had lost some air. Perhaps she shouldn’t breath too deeply when Johnette… no, when the goddess speaking through Johnette asks them to breathe in.

                  She had been introduced to Johnette and the Goddess of the Antic Earth by her friend Mona, whom she hadn’t seen in years and when she fall upon her the other day, she convinced Amanda to come to the Earth Circle Group and try the meditation “because it is so fun”. But Mona didn’t come to the circle the first time, and she hadn’t come either this time. Amanda didn’t know why she came back, she hadn’t felt anything the first time. But they had asked her if she was coming to the next meeting, and she couldn’t say no.

                  “Allow the divine breath of the goddess to fill your mind and your body with its pranic power of sustentation. And take another deep breath.”

                  And there, she had been thinking again, she had lost the rythm. She managed to exale silently with a few contortion of her body and caught up the group with shorter and shallower movements of her chest. It was exhausting.
                  “It’s only been the second time”, she reminded herself. No need to tell that she wasn’t feeling at all the effects of the pranic power of sustentation. Her body was more tense after the sessions. And the worst was her disappointment when all the others would talk about the wonderful experiences with the goddess and her angels. Johnette had told her it would come, and that she needn’t worry. She had to be free of her expectations and certainly not compare herself to the others.

                  The group was composed only of women. Except Norman, but he didn’t count. He was with Bianca. Amanda was sure that she had a wonderbra. She couldn’t have such a perfect breast at her age. And she didn’t seem the kind to have her breast reconfigured. She chuckled at the idea.

                  “Ahem.”

                  Amanda winced. Johnette was frowning. Or was it the Goddess. The idea gave Amanda the creeps.

                  “Now; clear your mind, my friends, for the next location will be revealed.”

                  Amanda had no idea what the Goddess was talking about. But according to the loud whispers, the others knew, and were expecting it. She noticed that the Goddess wasn’t frowning and caught a fleeting smile.
                  Johnette’s body began to shake and the most disturbing whale sound filled up the room.

                  “Sorry,” said Bianca, “wrong CD”.

                  #2997

                  After a few months travelling from Spain to France in their quest for the dragons, with already two visa applications for China rejected, endless unkind mocking laughs or condescending looks from strangers, and having had to pawn temporarily the sabulmantium to buy Vincentius a shirt, Arona and her motley family were thinking it was time for a turn of fate.

                  It didn’t take them too long hopefully.
                  Of course, the sabulmantium was recovered as soon as they had realized it was actually more lucrative in this dimension to have Vincentius take off his shirt in shady bars at night for a few meals and lodging, and some little extras. Mandrake had been kind to provide ample squeaking mice supplements, which Arona had politely declined, for which Mandrake faked each time the saddest of disappointments. All in all, so far their life on the roads had been easier than she would have thought.
                  Of course, they’d lost Sanso a few times as he couldn’t stay at one place for too long, and keeping track of his movements was near impossible. So they relied on trust that he would always find his way, which surprisingly enough, he did every single time.

                  He had been the one to provide them with the way to the island actually. One day, after weeks without news, he’d reappeared, hammering at the door of their little room at the top of their 9 storey hotel in Paris, near the St Honoré Market Place. He was wearing the quaintest bright violet velvet surplice, and was carrying a bottle of glowing green liquor.

                  To settle in a lovely island of the Ocean they called Pacific… It didn’t take too much convincing: Paris was starting to get boring, and far too cold. Arona missed the moist glowing warmth of Leormn’s cave, that was so good for her skin. She didn’t miss the riddles though.

                  The entry point of the tunnel was inside the catacombs, and they’d almost got lost a few times, she could have sworn, although Sanso was ever confident they were on track, even when a few dead-ends were staring at him in the face with toothless skulls grins. But after a few hours, the tunnel actually broadened, and glowed a lovely shade of orange.

                  It was funny, traveling through the Earth’s crust, made her almost feel at home. If all the dragons of this realm had left, and were hidden somewhere, she was certain it had to be to such a place. It gave her hopes again to meet one in this strange land which had forgotten magic.

                  #2988
                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    Ed Steam’s Rally Update:

                    Where is your Surge Team now?

                    • 1. Cornella • last seen in Long Poon, with computer troubles (#2942)
                    • 2. Pearl • last seen with Mari Fe considering freezing their butts on a flying carpet in a shop at Baku (#2939)
                    • 3. Mari Fe • last seen with Pearl (#2939)
                    • 4. Skye • last seen missing in action, probably lost in London’s last surge of fog (#2851)
                    • 5. Katarina • last seen with Pearl and Mari Fe (#2939)
                    • 6. Vera Pappaloosa • last seen with Lulla set to meet in Pohnpei, in the middle of the Pacific to deal with a yet undefined surge (#2863)
                    • 7. Kiki Razwa • last seen chatting with Björk about an upcoming transportation surge (#2941)
                    • 8. Björk • last seen on her way to deal with a transportation surge somewhere in Europe (#2941)
                    • 9. Janet Mendyourhall • last seen heading her way back to Nevada after containing a zombilic surge in Spain (#2922)
                    • 10. Lulla Spinosa • last seen meeting with Vera (#2863)
                    • 11. Madam Li • last seen heading back to Harbin, in Shanghai’s metro, after a snow surge successfully contained (#2940)
                    • 12. Anita Charmpatti • in Mumbai (no comment yet)
                    • 13. Elza • last seen in Moscow managing a taser surge (#2937)

                    Other recurring characters in the same timeline:

                    • Ed Steam • last seen fomenting a sinister plot in his secret hideout after faking his own demise and looting the Surge HQ artefacts warehouse (#2946)
                    • Aqua Luna • last seen at an unknown location, in a mysterious ship after a probable alien abduction in Long Poon (#2945)
                    • Belle (Bee) Endwhistle • last seen flushed out-of-body in the magic E-map, but didn’t yet reappear unlike Pearl and Mari Fe (#2902)

                    Recurring other-dimensional characters in the same timeline:

                    Other characters in the future timeline:

                    • Captain YangLang • last seen at the management of the old Long Poon Surge abandoned facility, recovering Ed Steam’s lost time capsule #23 (#2864)
                    #2982
                    ÉricÉric
                    Keymaster

                      You’re waiting for a train. A train that will take you far away. You know where you hope this train will take you, but you can’t be sure…
                      Josephinella, the train station cleaning lady, was on night duty. And she was tired of waiting for that damned train with that irritating French accent in her ears, her lungs filled with the engines’ fine coal dust and her nostrils irritated by the pigeons’ smell.
                      But tonight was going to be her night, she would get drunk on fresh air, her hair whipping her face, bugs biting her eyes, while she would sing elated woohoos launched at full speed on the last commuter train left unattended by drunk Freddie. That was such a beautiful plan.

                      :fleuron:

                      Another Dreamliner scare… and a train crash coming your way!”
                      “Sounds like a transportation surge to me!” Björk replied on the internal chatting system to her African Twa colleague Kiki Razwa. Björk was not her real name though —it was just a moniker given to her because she liked eccentric costumes. Her real name was Mæja Valbjörnsdóttir,… so ‘Björk’ was better for everyone in that international team, she’d tried to convince herself.
                      “Doesn’t internal policy says two makes a clue, three makes a surge ?”
                      “Oh, who cares… For me it smells dreamception transportation surge.”
                      “Better that than this Mercury retrograde crap, at least that’s more fun to hunt.” Kiki’s reply came up on the screen.
                      Björk had come to realize that she would probably have to cover for Mari Fe who was elsewhere but at her post. The last surge being in Europe, so she was in for a trip at the taxpayers’ expense… Not so bad actually, since nothing ever happened on her faraway island.

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