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  • #4517

    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

    TracyTracy
    Participant

      comes whatever pool land
      work magic tree
      give waiting memory possible needed
      easily tell
      especially asked
      particularly power woke

      #4471

      Fox sat back on the wooden chair in Margoritt’s kitchen, and crossed his arms, a little unnerved by the heat and his growing desire to go out in the woods and let go of all restraints. He had been struggling daily to control it and he had noticed it was particularly difficult during the new moon.

      “If we have to do it in the house,” said Fox, “Can’t we at least open the windows? It’ll let in some fresh air.” He wrinkled his nose at the heavy scents of sweat mingled with that of fermented goat milk, irritating his delicate sense of smell. Rukshan had gathered their little group and they were waiting for Gorrash to wake up.

      “The purpose of meeting here is that nobody can hear what we are saying,” said Rukshan with a hint of exasperation in his tone. “If we open the windows it’ll just…”

      “Isn’t it rather because of the mosquitos?” started Fox feeling a little argumentative.

      Glynis cleared her throat and got up, mumbling that she might have a solution. She came back a few moment later carrying a big bottle with a big sticker. Rukshan and Mr Minn helped her lift it while Eleri and Margoritt cleared a space on the table where they put the bottle.

      The sticker had something written on it : AIR CONDITIONED, winter quality. Handle with caution.

      Glynis turned the cap a few turns and a wooshing sound escaped from the neck of the bottle, followed by a gentle and continuous breeze of fresh air which provoked a murmur of appreciation from everyone.

      “What’s this?” asked Gorrash who had just woken up.

      “It’s what the sticker says. Cooling the atmosphere is just one way to use it. One has to be careful not to turn the wheel too much though or you could get frost bite.”

      The fae looked at the bottle appreciatively, impressed at Glynis’ many talents. He was already thinking about a few other ways to put this frozen air bottle to use when Glynis cleared her throat again.

      “It’s not infinite content and I only get a few of them, so if we could start the meeting.”

      “Of course. I’ve received words from Lhamom. Her father has passed away and they are sending him to the sea during the week-end.” He allowed a moment of silence, sending a silent prayer toward their dear friend. Then he continued : “That means she’ll be able to join us for our trip in the mountains. We only have to decide who’s going and who’s staying to help Margoritt.”

      Rukshan looked at each of them intently and Fox felt uneasy when his friend’s eyes fall upon him.

      #4467

      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        knowledge behind silly
        heavy moving house
        floor words
        woke reading
        arms warmth stood
        arrived hiding light
        funny hour
        leaves gently return

        #4459

        Eleri glanced at Glynis. So she was feeling it too.

        Eleri had woken in the night, in the dead of the dark hours before dawn, aware of something she could only describe as a central core running through the dream, or a central path so to speak, that all the elements of the dream branched from. It wasn’t much clearer than that, with regard to details, but the feeling of recognition of the bones of that central thread were profoundly real. It was fear.

        #4457

        It was no shadow day. The sun was right above head, shining its blinding light right through you. Everybody at the cottage was feeling the heat and trying as much as they could to cool themselves down.
        Only Hasamelis didn’t seem to mind. Being a God even a fallen One had its perks. Eleri was glaring at him annoyed while she was profusely sweating. There was always a tense flirtatious hatred, or rather a murderous love between those two, and it kept pulling them together, in a paradoxical way.
        Everyone were glad for the herb cooler that Glynis would decant for them.

        Rukshan was looking longingly at the horizon, maybe (he wouldn’t admit) thinking about the Queen, or for some better place to be…
        But since their fire ceremonial, he could feel releasing the Shards through the burning of the book had awoken something, and danger from an unknown place seemed to be lurking beyond the mountains.

        The Doors to the God Realm had opened again, and he wasn’t all sure it was a good thing.

        #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!

          #4448

          Somewhere on the roadworks…

          The holes and cracks had awoken ancient creatures from the fabled hollow worlds of myths…

          #4447

          It had taken Rukshan close to a year to clear the fog.

          He had to admit, he’d dreaded more than was necessary. Faes where a bit thick headed and stubborn when it came to honoring vows and sacred words. There had been lessons to unravel for a lifetime in that year span they’d spent on the holy grounds.
          Even the angry God had come around, and he wasn’t the threat Rukshan had thought he would be. Only another lonely soul, longing for companionship.

          Yesterday, Rukshan had finished the book of Kumihimo. Propitiatory work, but he was beginning to see the benefits. He had finished collecting all the pages of the vanishing book, by burying himself in work for the commune, and on the few moments of silence left to himself, reaching towards the source of knowledge and gathering the elements once thought forever lost. Clearing of his Mind Palace.

          Now he had to let it go. The Book was complete, and needed to be offered on the pyre.
          Only then the Shards would be rightfully returned, rejoined and ready to spell the next evolution of their journey.

          The pyre was neatly prepared. Gathering of fragrant herbs of the woods was a specialty of the Potion maker, the gorgeous assemblage of the beams had created a sriyantra-like pattern that seemed like it could easily open a portal to the Gods’ realm.

          All of them had gathered around at the full moon. Gorrash had just awoken, and the feast was joyous and full of sparkling expectations.

          Each of them took a thread to light the flames, and once the Book was put on the pyre with great reverence, all of them, one by one lighted one of the corners.

          They all felt a great weight lifting from their chest, the weight of the sins of their past lives vanishing in the light, and a great joy pouring in from the dancing flames at the centre.

          All was well and fresh on this night, and there was great content, and anticipation for what tomorrow would bring.

          #4446

          Margoritt’s left knee was painful that day. Last time it hurt so much was twenty years ago, during that notorious drought when a fire started and almost burnt the whole forest down. Only a powerful spell from the Fae people could stop it. But today they sky was clear, and the forest was enjoying a high degree of humidity from the last magic rain. Margoritt, who was not such a young lady anymore dismissed the pain as a sign of old age.
          You have to accept yourself as you are at some point, she sighed.

          The guests were still there, and everyone was participating to the life of the community. Eleri, who had been sick had been taken care of in turn by Fox and Glynnis, while Rukshan had reorganised the functioning of the farm. They now had a second cow and produced enough milk to make cakes and butter that they sold to the neighbouring Faes, and they had a small herd of Rainbow Lamas that produced the softest already colourful wool, among other things. Gorrash, awoken at night, had formed an alliance with the owls that helped them to keep the area clear of mice and rats and was also in charge of the weekly night fireworks.

          The strange colourful eggs had hatched recently giving birth to strange little creatures that were not yet sure of which shape to adopt. They sometimes looked like cuddly kittens, sometimes like cute puppies, or mischievous monkeys. They always took the form of a creature with a tail, except when they were frightened and turned into a puddle. It had been hard for Margoritt who mistook them for dog pee, but Fox had been very helpful with his keen sense of smell and washing away the poor creatures had been avoided. Nobody had any idea if they could survive once diluted in water.

          The day was going great, Margoritt sat on her rocking chair enjoying a fresh nettle lassi on the terrace while doing some embroidery work on Eleri’s blouse. Her working kit was on a small stool in front of her. Working with her hands helped her forget about her knee and also made her feel useful in this youthful community where everybody wanted to help her. She was rather proud of her last design representing a young girl and a god statue holding hands together. She didn’t think of herself as a matchmaker, but sometimes you just had to give a little push when fate didn’t want to do its job.

          Micawber Minn arrived, his face as long as the Lamazon river. He had the latest newspaper with him and put it on Margoritt’s lap. Surprise and a sudden sharp and burning pain in her knee made her left leg jerk forward, strewing all her needles onto the floor. Margoritt, upset, looked at the puddle of lassi sluggishly starting to covering them up.
          “What…” she began.
          “Read the damn paper,” said Minn.

          She did. The front page mentioned the reelection of Leroway as Lord Mayor, despite his poor results in developing the region.
          “Well, that’s not surprising,” Margoritt said with a shrug, starting to feel angry at Minn for frightening her.
          “Read further,” said Minn suddenly looking cynical.
          Margoritt continued and gasped. Her face turned blank.
          “That’s not possible. We need to tell the other,” she said. “We can not let Leroway build his road through the forest.”

          #4425

          In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

          TracyTracy
          Participant

            far gardener pulled peanut
            distance snow ages
            human spent immediately
            shoulder woke
            known loudly hanging
            leaving indeed believe
            love ones cleaning

            #4409
            AvatarJib
            Participant

              “Pssst.”

              Finnley turned to her right, swift as a ninja. She was relieved to see Roberto, full of twigs and hay in his dark bushy hair. He had panda eyes.

              “What happened to you?” she asked in a hush before realising she only reacted to the way he prompted her. “Is that the new…”

              “No,” he said, “I just woke up from that strange cave with the moving roots and birth place of new characters,” he said rolling his ‘R’s like only he could. “It took me that long to come back into this thread. I just wanted to tell you the back door is open. I need to take a shower and clean the pool. Half of it is in summer, but the other seems to be stuck in winter.”

              #4406

              In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

              TracyTracy
              Participant

                mansion away
                believe woke hut
                enchanted laughing ladies
                master matter
                rainbow carried approaching silence
                starting fact thoughts
                question turns wet
                breakfast

                #4393
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  They have entered, now peace is all shattered,
                  And the quiet was all that had mattered,
                  But alas that is over,
                  And blown is my cover,
                  And I’m sulky and not feeling flattered.

                  Petra was scribbling furiously in her expedition notebook, not wanting to forget the exact wording of the curious message she had received on waking from her nap behind the rocks. It was not the first time she had heard telepathic messages in rhyme, and wondered briefly about the possible connections, but then Lillianne woke up farting dreadfully, and she was distracted.

                  #4356

                  Fox woke up in the mud. He felt thirsty and confused, not knowing where he was or when it was, except that it was night time. He looked around him and despite the darkness he was seeing clearly. He was in a small glade, surrounded by tall trees. The grass had a strange greenish glow and seemed to float around like tentacles trying to seize whatever passed near.

                  An emotion rose from his heart and jumped outside of him before he could feel it. It had a colour. it was blue and had the shape of a drop of jelly, darker in its center. Fox looked, fascinated, as it taunted the blades of grass. His heart jumped as a longer tentacle almost caught the drop, that’s when he knew he had to take it back. He couldn’t let it out into the world like that.

                  Not with the others so close.

                  Fox felt puzzled at the thought. What others was it referring to? He heard someone crying, it sounded like someone miserable. He felt something fall on his hands, droplets of water, and realised he was the one crying. He stood up and was surprised by the height. He found a little pond and looked at his reflection. The lonesome face of a troll was looking back at him.

                  Am I dreaming?

                  #4347
                  EricEric
                  Keymaster

                    “I don’t have time for that” Godfrey said loudly, grumpy at being woken up by the smikst alert. “There are some people who do actually have real work to do.”

                    It was not difficult for him to ignore the “come back here right this instant!” of Liz’ when he walked away to the secret passageway that let him pop in and out of scenes like a peanut from its shell. He still had earplugs from his sleeping attempt, and thought they were actually quite useful.
                    Liz’ was far more than capable of handling the German and her ex without him.

                    #4337

                    As the night was coming on the party, lanterns were lit around the place, and Gorrash started to wake up.
                    He felt grumpy, and ready to take on the world, but suddenly realized there was quite a crowd assembled around the long table set up in front of the shack.
                    He would have grumpfed and grumbled and sworn angrily that they had started without him, but someone had put a nice plate of pebbles in front of him.
                    He couldn’t help but smile Nice touch, pointy ears!

                    His friend the owl hooted as if in approval.
                    “Oh there you are…” he said, seeing it was perched on… what exactly?
                    There was another statue, a big old winged thing that wasn’t there yesterday.

                    Fox has some explaining to do…” he thought, wondering about this… Then he was startled to realise that said statue was just a strange large being, stuck in a sort of hypnotic trance.

                    “Has he woken yet?” the dwarf turned around to see the young lad who had addressed him, coming in his direction. “The witch’s magic mushrooms are very strong… it’s his fault; he wouldn’t calm down…” the lad said sheepishly.
                    As the dwarf was looking at the owl for explanation, she just decided to fly away for some vole hunting.
                    “Hello, I’m OlliOlliver is the name.”
                    “Well, I’m Gorrash. You can call me Gorrash.”
                    “Mr Go- go-gorrash, the Fae has called all of us to tell us something, could you come please…”

                    Gorrash pointed at the tranced out god “and what about this big guy?”

                    Olli shrugged, “Ruk- Ruk-, Rukji said we can leave him there, he will join us later on the trip…”

                    #4327

                    “Pssst Glynis, are you awake?”

                    There was no response so Sunshine, the parrot, leapt from his shelf onto the bed and nudged Glynis with his beak.

                    “Ouch! Sunshine!”

                    “I’ve got a joke for you. It’s a good one this time! You will be glad I woke you.”

                    Glynis groaned.

                    “What’s smarter than a talking parrot?”

                    “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

                    “Come on! you aren’t even trying!”

                    “Aargh. Most things are.”

                    “Oh how rude. You really aren’t at your best this hour of the night. It’s a spelling bee! Get it? A spelling bee. A bee that spells. Not that anything is really smarter than a parrot. Hmm maybe I should have let you sleep,” cackled the parrot.

                    “Extremely hilarious. Now be quiet, Sunny, and get some sleep. We have to get away extra early in the morning.”

                    #4313
                    EricEric
                    Keymaster

                      “I had the most awful nightmare”

                      Godfrey was taking his morning ginger tea, and talking to himself as usual, although it may have seem he was taking to the new gardener who had come inside for a glass of lemonade. The gardener raised his head, not sure what to answer.

                      “The neighbour had left corpses in front of the house, and I had to bury them so people wouldn’t think we’d killed them. It was night, but then I realized it was our dear friends, one had lost an arm even. I then realized they were after the money, and has simply settled there in their place. And then I woke up wondering why is that I hadn’t just called the police instead of making it more of a mess than it was.”

                      The gardener was still at the door, unsure if the pause meant he could finally go outside.

                      “Truth is, by burying the corpses, I not only became complicit, but also probably made the murderer’s work easier…”

                      “I’m sorry Sir, but I have to go back to work now,” the gardener finally said rather awkwardly. “Your bossy maid has ordered me to bury a rather large sack in the garden. I can’t let it sit in the sun like that.”

                      Godfrey looked at the gardener in mute horror.

                      #4300
                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        Finnley woke with a start. She’d been dreaming that she was chatting and giggling with a group of girlfriends. At one point they all held hands and starting running through a field of flowers, singing at the tops of their high girlish voices.

                        Thank flove that was just a dream, she thought, breathing deeply to calm herself.

                        Finnley! What are you doing curled up on the chaise-longue? Don’t tell me you are sleeping on the job? Good grief, what next!”

                        Finnley felt an unexpected rush of emotion towards Liz. Don’t ever change, you rude, dictatorial, bossy tart, she thought, still shaking off the remnants of the awful nightmare.

                        “You want me to get rid of the German?” she asked gruffly.

                        #4276

                        The garden was becoming too small for Gorrash. With time, the familiarity had settled down in his heart and he knew very well each and every stone or blade of grass there was to know. With familiarity, boredom was not very far. Gorrash threw a small pebble in the pond, he was becoming restless and his new and most probably short friendship with Rainbow had triggered a seed in his heart, the desire to know more about the world.

                        Before he’d met the creature, Gorrash could remember the pain and sadness present in the heart of his maker. He had thought that was all he needed to know about the world, that mankind was not to be trusted. And he had avoided any contact with that dragon lady, lest she would hurt him. He knew that all came from his maker, although he had no real access to the actual memories, only to their effects.

                        Gorrash threw another pebble into the pond, it made a splashing sound which dissolved into the silence. He imagined the sound was like the waves at the surface of the pond, going endlessly outward into the world. He imagined himself on top of those waves, carried away into the world. A shiver ran through his body, which felt more like an earthquake than anything else, stone bodies are not so flexible after all. He looked at the soft glowing light near the bush where Rainbow was hiding. The memory of joy and love he had experienced when they hunted together gave his current sadness a sharp edge, biting into his heart mercilessly. He thought there was nothing to be done, Rainbow would leave and he would be alone again.

                        His hand reached in his pocket where he found the phial of black potion he had kept after Rainbow refused it. He shook it a few times. Each time he looked at it, Gorrash would see some strange twirls, curls and stars in the liquid that seemed made of light. He wondered what it was. What kind of liquid was so dark to the point of being luminous sometimes ? The twirls were fascinating, leading his attention to the curls ending in an explosion of little stars. Had the witch captured the night sky into that bottle?

                        Following the changes into the liquid was strangely soothing his pain. Gorrash was feeling sleepy and it was a very enjoyable feeling. Feelings were quite new to him and he was quite fascinated by them and how they changed his experience of the world. The phial first seemed to pulse back and forth into his hand, then the movement got out and began to spread into his body which began to move back and forth, carried along with this sensual lullaby. Gorrash wondered if it would go further, beyond his body into the world. But as the thought was born, the feeling was gone and he was suddenly back into the night. A chill went down his spine. It was the first time. The joy triggered his sadness again.

                        The dwarf looked at the dark phial. Maybe it could help ease his pain. He opened it, curious and afraid. What if it was poison? said a voice of memory. Gorrash dismissed it as the scent of Jasmine reached his nose. His maker was fond of Jasmine tea, and he was surprised at the fondness that rose in his heart. But still no images, it was merely voices and feelings. Sometimes it was frustrating to only have bits and never the whole picture, and full of exasperation, Gorrash gulped in the dark substance.

                        He waited.

                        Nothing was happening. He could still hear the cooing of Rainbow, infatuated with it eggs, he could hear the scratches of the shrews, the flight of the insects. That’s when Gorrash noticed something was different as he was beginning to hear the sharp cries of the bats above. He tried to move his arm to look at the phial, but his body was so heavy. He had never felt so heavy in his short conscious life, even as the light of the Sun hardened his body, it was not that heavy.

                        The soil seemed to give way under his increasing weight, the surface tension unable to resist. He continued to sink into the ground, down the roots of the trees, through the tunnels of a brown moles quite surprised to see him there, surrounded by rocks and more soil, some little creatures’ bones, and down he went carried into hell by the weight of his pain.

                        After some time, his butt met a flat white surface, cold as ice, making him jump back onto his feet. The weird heaviness that a moment before froze his body was gone. He looked around, he was in a huge cave and he was not alone. There was an old woman seated crosslegged on a donkey skin. Gorrash knew it was a donkey because it still had its head, and it was smiling. The old woman had hair the colour of the clouds before a storm in summer, It was full of knots and of lightning streaks twirling and curling around her head. Her attention was all on the threads she had in her hands. Gorrash counted six threads. But she was doing nothing with them. She was very still and the dwarf wondered if she was dead or asleep.

                        What do you want? asked the donkey head in a loud bray.

                        It startled the dwarf but it didn’t seem to bother the old lady who was still entranced and focused on her threads.

                        Nothing, said Gorrash who couldn’t think of anything he would want.

                        Nonsense, brayed the donkey, laughing so hard that the skin was shaking under the old lady. Everyone wants something. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want something.

                        Gorrash thought about what he could want, what he had been wanting that night. He remembered his desire to get out of the garden.

                        And there you are, brayed the donkey head, that’s a start. What do you want then?

                        Getting out of the garden?

                        Noooo! That’s a consequence of a deeper desire, but that’s not what you want.

                        I have never thought about desires before, said Gorrash. It’s pretty new to me. I just came to life a few weeks ago during a full moon.

                        The donkey head tilted slightly on its right. No excuses, it spat, If you’re awake, then you have a desire in your heart that wants to be fulfilled. What do you want? Take your time, but not too long. The universe is always on the move and you may miss the train, or the bus, or the caravan…

                        As the donkey went on making a list of means of transportation, Gorrash looked hesitantly at the old lady. She was still focused on her six threads she had not moved since he had arrived there.

                        Who is she? he asked to the donkey.

                        _She’s known by many names and has many titles. She’s Kumihimo Weaver of Braids, Ahina Maker of Songs, Gadong Brewer of Stews…

                        Ok! said Gorrash, not wanting the donkey go on again into his list enumeration pattern. What is she doing?

                        She’s waiting.

                        And, what is she waiting for?

                        She’s waiting for the seventh thread, brayed the donkey head. I’m also waiting for the thread, it whined loudly. She won’t leave my back until she’s finished her braid. The head started to cry, making the dwarf feel uncomfortable. Suddenly it stopped and asked And, who are you?

                        The question resonated in the cave and in his ears, taking Gorrash by surprise. He had no answer to that question. He had just woken up a few weeks ago in that garden near the forest, with random memories of a maker he had not known, and he had no clue what he desired most. Maybe if he could access more memories and know more about his maker that would help him know what he wanted.

                        Good! brayed the donkey, We are making some progress here. Now if you’d be so kind as to give her a nose hair, she could have her last thread and she could tell you where to find your maker.

                        Hope rose in Gorrash’s heart. Really?

                        Certainly, brayed the head with a hint of impatience.

                        But wouldn’t a nose hair be too short for her braid? asked the dwarf. All the other threads seemed quite long to him.

                        Don’t waste my time with such triviality. Pull it out!

                        Gorrash doubted it would work but he grabbed a nose hair between his thumb and index and began to pull. He was surprised as he didn’t feel the pain he expected but instead the hair kept being pulled out. He felt annoyed and maybe ashamed that it was quite long and he had not been aware of it. He took out maybe several meters long before a sudden pain signalled the end of the operation. Ouch!

                        hee haw, laughed the donkey head.

                        The pain brought out the memory of a man, white hair, the face all wrinkled, a long nose and a thin mouth. He was wearing a blouse tightened at his waist by a tool belt. He was looking at a block of stone wondering what to make out of it, and a few tears were rolling down his cheeks. Gorrash knew very well that sadness, it was the sadness inside of him. Many statues surrounded the man in what looked like a small atelier. There were animals, gods, heads, hands, and objects. The vision shifted to outside the house, and he saw trees and bushes different than the ones he was used to in the garden where he woke up. Gorrash felt a strange feeling in his heart. A deep longing for home.

                        Now you have what you came here for. Give the old lady her thread, urged the donkey. She’s like those old machines, you have to put a coin to get your coffee.

                        Gorrash had no idea what the donkey was talking about. He was still under the spell of the vision. As soon as he handed the hair to the woman, she began to move. She took the hair and combined it to the other threads, she was moving the threads too swiftly for his eyes to follow, braiding them in odd patterns that he felt attracted to.

                        Time for you to go, said the donkey.

                        I’d like to stay a bit longer. What she’s doing is fascinating.

                        Oh! I’m sure, brayed the donkey, But you have seen enough of it already. And someone is waiting for you.

                        The dwarf felt lighter. And he struggled as he began levitating. What!? His body accelerated up through the earth, through the layers of bones and rocks, through the hard soil and the softer soil of years past. He saw the brown mole again and the familiar roots of the trees of the garden in the enchanted forest.

                        Gorrash took a deep breath as he reintegrated his stone body. He wobbled, trying to catch his ground. He felt like throwing up after such an accelerated trip. His knees touched the ground and he heard a noise of broken glass as he dropped the phial.

                        “Are you alright?” asked a man’s voice. Gorrash forced his head up as a second wave of nausea attempted to get out. A man in a dark orange coat was looking down at him with genuine worry on his face.

                        “I’m good,” said the dwarf. “But who are you?”

                        “My name is Fox. What’s yours?”

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