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  • in reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods #4352

    As the storm was raging outside, Tak was hiding below the bed, with a small knitted patch of garment that Margoritt had given him, which he kept as a comforting soother.

    The darkness and gales of wind aroused feelings which he had rather not face. He curled below the bed, unaware of the other’s animated discussions, afraid to be terrified.

    You know this is how it starts… the voice was familiar, warm and gentle, grandfatherly. But he didn’t want to hear it. He had too much pain, and the voice was driving him away from the pain.
    Listen to me, just listen. You don’t need to answer, just open yourself a little. Let me help you with the pain, and the fear. You’ve had it inside for so long, too long.

    Go away! Tak was crying silently under the bed, mentally trying to resist the support of the voice who sounded like Master Gibbon.

    Alright, I will go for now. You just need to call if you need me. But you need to hear that.

    No! I don’t want! You can’t force me!

    Just remember that is how every cycle ends: death for your love, then death for all of you, before new painful, forgetful lives begin again for all of you. If you don’t break this cycle, it will end, and start again. You know it’s time for you to break that cycle of revenge, and manipulation. They have greatly suffered too for their mistakes. Let them see you as you are, and learn to forgive them.

    in reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods #4351

    “Oh no!” Margoritt swore loudly, “not that cursed rain again!”.
    They were about to share what was left of the cake for dessert when the first booming strike of thunder resounded violently across the mountains.

    She cupped her hands in front of her mouth to rally the troops over the noisy rumble of the heavy dark clouds. “Inside! Everyone inside!” — when the rains started in spring, they could go on for days, drenching the countryside in curtains of water.

    The first drops falling, quickly extinguishing the candles, Rukshan raised his head to look at the darker skies covering completely the moon’s glow “This is no ordinary rain…”

    “You bet, it isn’t!” Margoritt said, looking more sombre than she ever was. “That magical umbrella won’t be enough this time, we are probably going to have to sit that one out inside. Help me bring the animals inside.”

    In front of the small cottage, everyone else started to hurry inside, bringing back the plates, cups and leftovers, while Rukshan was preparing some wood for the fire to keep the moist away.

    “Has anybody seen Eleri?” Yorath’s look was concerned. “She seem to have disappeared somewhere as usual… But she hasn’t come back yet,… and I’m afraid she took a large bite of the trancing cake too. It’s not a good night to trance out.”

    Rukshan was torn between waiting a bit longer, or going to search for her, which would be risking lives during the dark stormy night. He was about to offer to go outside himself when Gorrash said briskly:
    “Let me go find her, this storm is nothing, and I’m used to the dark. You all should stay inside. If I don’t come back at the break of dawn, you can go out to look for us, but don’t worry too much about me, I’ll blend in.” He winked at Fox who smiled weakly. He didn’t like this type of cold rain. Its smell was damp and rotten.

    “Thank you Gorrash, that is very noble of you. Please, take care of yourself, and be back soon.” Rukshan said as he opened the door which was now jerking violently against the darkest night.

    in reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler #4350
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Those things people discard… in his life as the rubbish collector, Pepe had seen many. The unusual large package was just one of the highlights of the day; it’s like Providence meant for him to have this thrown away parcel.

      Curious they didn’t even bother to open it, though he thought as he put it on the front of the truck. He probably would keep it for awhile, to see if anybody claims it back. You’d never know with the lot of crazy hoarding people in this lot. It was not the first time their batty help threw stuff away.

      If not, whatever that was inside would probably join his large collection.
      Over 20 years of gathering discarded books, he could almost open a library. And it didn’t matter how much he would give away, more would come back. It was a blessed curse, he used to say.

      in reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler #4347
      ÉricÉric
      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.

        in reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods #4342

        The dinner had already started, the roasted chicken half devoured, and Fox turned redder when he saw Rukshan’s dismayed look. The Fae seemed much too rigid at times.

        It was a good and cheerful assembly, and Lahmom the traveller of the high plateaus, with her adorned cowboy hat always proudly put on her golden locks of hair, was telling them of the shamanic practices of the people of those far-away places she had seen in her voyages.
        It was all fascinating to hear, she had such a love for the people that she beamed though her sparkly eyes when she was telling them the tales of those shamans, and how they would drum in circles and be able to communicate with their group spirit…

        “We should do that sometimes” a surprisingly talkative Gorrash said, as he munched his way though a large ear of maize. He seemed almost drunk on the fermented goat milk that he had found pleasantly attracted to.

        “Oh, I’m sure we can find some old skin somewhere around my stuff” Margoritt said, amused at the idea of the challenge.
        Lahmom winked at Tak who was hiding behind his plate, but not missing any word of the lively exchanges.

        “In all your travels, have you been to any of those places?” Lahmom asked Yorath who seemed distracted.
        “I’m sorry, what?” he wasn’t paying too much attention “Has anybody seen Eleri?”

        in reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods #4341

        Before he closed it to prepare for the dinner, the page of the book had said “She is coming, heralded by Sunshine, and thus will the Gathering start”. Rukshan could be quite literal and thought that she wouldn’t come today, since the sun was about to set.
        He wasn’t sure how the words had found their way into the book, and if the She was who he thought She was. In short, he was getting confused.

        Back there, the Hermit’s message had been so clear, so urgently present.
        Find who you were, find what you stole, and give it back. Then the threads will unravel and the knot of all the curses will be undone.

        And yet, he started to doubt his path.

        The high-pitched cry of “Circle of Eights” pierced through the fog of his mind, and Rukshan realised suddenly that… that was it. Why else, all these people would be around this place at this auspicious moment?

        The trees’ messages had been shown right. He was the Faying Fae. The Sage Sorceress was probably still on her path, but the Teafing Tinkeress hunted by a god, the Gifted Gnome, on his way to become his own maker under the protection of a Renard Renunciate looking for lost souls… They were there. Five in total; with himself (Rukshan) — the potion-maker, Eleri, Gorrash, Fox, these were the rest of the names, and they made the five first strands. Who were the last two? Olliver, Tak?

        Olliver would surely have rounded everyone around for the dinner by now.
        Rukshan placed the book back into the bag. He would explain to everyone then, read the old tale of the seven thieves and their curses, and maybe they could all formulate a plan for remembrance.
        Yes, remembrance was the first step. How to know what to do if you didn’t know who they were, what they stole…

        He wasn’t too sure what to do with the God in torpor yet. He seemed less of a danger in his current state. That a God had been left behind, stuck in stone for so long, and right under their nose was mind-boggling. Another mystery to be revealed.
        Surprisingly —and luckily— Olli had explained, Hasamelis seemed to believe that the young boy was a genius wizard, so he would maybe listen to Olli.

        The second ‘Circle of Eights!’ seemed closer this time.

        in reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods #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…”

        in reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler #4331

        “What was in the bag, Finnley, tell us!”
        Everyone was looking at the maid after the Inspector had left hurriedly, under the pretext of taking care of a tip he had received on the disappearance of the German girl.

        Godfrey was the most curious in fact. He couldn’t believe in the facade of meanness that Finnley carefully wrapped herself into. The way she cared about the animals around the house was a testimony to her well hidden sweetness. Most of all, he thought herself incapable of harming another being.
        But he had been surprised before. Like when Liz’ had finished a novel, long ago.

        “Alright, I’ll show you. Stay there, you lot of accomplices.”

        Godfrey looked at Liz’ sideways, who was distracted anyway by the gardener, who was looking at the nearby closet.

        Liz’, will you focus please! The mystery is about to be revealed!”

        “Oh shut up, Godfrey, there’s no mystery at all. I’ve known for a while what that dastardly maid had done. I’ve been onto her for weeks!”
        “Really?”
        “Oh, don’t you give me that look. I’m not as incapable as you think, and that bloodshot-eyes stupor I affect is only to keep annoyances away. Like my dear mother, if you remember.”
        “So tell us, if you’re so smart now. In case it’s really a corpse, at least, we may all be prepared for the unwrapping!”
        “A CORPSE! Ahaha, you fool Godfrey. It’s not A corpse! It’s MANY CORPSES!”

        Godfrey really thought for a second that she had completely lost it. Again. He would have to call the nearby sanatorium, make up excuses for the next signing session at the library, and cancel all future public appear…

        “Will you stop that! I know what you’re doing, you bloody control machine! Stop that thinking of yours, I can’t even hear myself thinking nowadays for all your bloody thinking. Now, as I was saying of course she’d been hiding all the corpses!”
        “Are you insane, Liz’ —at least keep your voice down…”
        “Don’t be such a sourdough Godfrey, you’re sour, and sticky and all full of gas. JUST LET ME EXPLAIN, for Lemone’s sake!”

        Godfrey fell silent for a moment, eyeing a lost peanut left on a shelf nearby.

        Conscious of the unfair competition for Godfrey’s attention Elizabeth blurted it all in one sentence:
        “She’s been collecting them, my old failed stories, the dead drafts and old discarded versions of them. Hundreds of characters, those little things, I’d given so many cute little names, but they had no bones or shape, and very little personality, I had to smother them to death.” She started sobbing uncontrollably.

        That was then that Finnley came back in the room, panting and dragging the sack coated in dirt inside the room, and seeing the discomfit Liz’ with smeared make-up all over her eyes.

        “Oh, bloody hell. Don’t you tell me I brought that dirty bag of scraps up for nothing!”

        She left there, running for the door screaming “I’m not doing the carpets again!”

        And closed the door with a sonorous “BUGGER!”

        in reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods #4330

        In the past twenty days since he got out of the forest, backtracking on his steps, Rukshan didn’t have much luck finding or locating either of the six others strands.
        At first, he thought his best hint was the connection with the potion-maker, but it seemed difficult to find her if she didn’t want to be found.

        So, for lack of a better plan, he had come back to Margoritt’s shack and was quite pleased at the idea of meeting the old lady and Tak again.
        Her cottage had been most busy with guests, and in the spring time, it was a stark contrast with the last time he was there, to see all the motley assemblage she had gathered around her.

        First, there was Margoritt of course, Emma the goat, then Tak, who was a very convincing little boy these days, and looked happy at all the people visiting. Then, there was Lahmom, the mountain explorer, who had come down from her trek and enjoyed a glass of goat milk tea with roast barley nuggets.
        Then there were a couple of strange guests, a redhair man with a nose for things, and his pet statue, a gnome with a temper, he said. Margoritt had offered them shelter during the last of the blizzard.

        With so many unexpected guests, Margoritt quickly found her meager provisions dwindling, and told Rukshan she was about to decide for an early return to the city, since the next cargo of her benefactor Mr Minn would take too long to arrive.

        That was the day before she arrived to the cottage with her companion: Eleri and Yorath, had arrived surprisingly just in time with a small carriage of provisions. “How great that mushrooms don’t weigh anything, we have so many to share!” Eleri was happy at the sight of the cottage and its guests, and started to look around at all the nooks and crannies for secret treasures to assemble and unknown shrooms.
        While Yorath explained to Margoritt how Mr Minn had send him ahead with food, Margoritt was delighted and amazed at such prescience.

        Rukshan, for his part, was amazed at something else. There seemed to be something at play, to join together people of such variety in this instant. Maybe the solution he was looking for was just in front of his nose.
        He would have to look carefully at which of them could be an unknown holder of the shards of the Gem.

        He was consigning his thoughts on a random blank page of his vanishing book, not to store the knowledge, but rather to engage on a inner dialogue, and seek illumination, when some commotion happened outside the cottage.

        A towering figure followed by a boy had just arrived in the clearing. “Witch! You will pay for what you did!” pointing at Eleri, backed behind Yorath who had jumped protectively in front of her.

        That can’t be another coincidence Rukshan thought, recognizing the two new guests: the reanimated god statue of the tower, and Olliver, the boy who, he deduced, had managed to wake up the old teleporting device.

        in reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler #4329
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Not particularly pleased with himself for that inelegant distraction, Godfrey swiftly used the opportunity to usher Melon and Liz out of the way of the glass shards, and into the next room, a gloomy winter garden kept moist and dark by all the vines and carnivorous plants covering the walls.

          “Now, it makes me wonder sometimes, when I see you and the fine inspector here, you always seem to have trouble with your endings Liz’ —not that I am judging…”
          “Are we talking about literature or my sex life here?” Liz’ raised an eyebrow fine as a line in the sands of her fury.

          The Inspector, nicely framed in a corner by colorful and dangling carnivorous plants, started to lose his legendary composure by the minute, wondering if he shouldn’t hand over the case to a less interest-conflicted party.

          in reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler #4322
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            It didn’t take much time for Godfrey to figure out that Walter may have been one of the missing husbands of Liz. She’d been always rather discreet about the total number of her past marriages, and she wasn’t very good at keeping archives either, so it was mostly guesswork from his part, but some signs were unmistakable, such as the spellbound speechless face on Liz’ and Walter.
            Frozen in time as they were, Godfrey could probably say anything, without fear of breaking that spell.

            “Well, that is rather awkward, Inspector.” Godfrey said, dropping the empty peanut butter jar into Finnley’s hands before she could make her escape for the sideway door.
            “Weren’t we all worried sick about that poor child since she left hurriedly from the mansion.”
            He felt compelled to add “our dear maid Finnley the most, I believe. She had all her belongings stacked in a safe place, for when she would return. Isn’t it, Finnley? That would surely help the Inspector if you could fetch those in the garden, wouldn’t it Inspector.”

            in reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler #4320
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              “Well, the backdoor was opened, you see, like my wife says…” Inspector Melon started to explain Finnley how he managed to be in the house no sooner had she turned back to dusting duties, or rather turned her back to the door and said duties.

              “Stop it!” she interrupted, “and put those shoe covers on your muddy shoes, damnit, I’m not going to do the floors again on your behalf, you miscreant.”

              Finnley, what’s this racket about?” Godfrey appeared from behind the massive last last century clock licking his fingers off the peanut butter.

              Finnley put her fists on her hips with a defiant air, not gone unnoticed by Godfrey, “Well, THIS dripping wet gentleman pretends to be a policeman investigating on the Jingly girl disappearance… Not that we know anything about that anyhow.”

              Inspector Melon couldn’t help but say “Interesting you should mention it, did I say I was looking for Ms Jingle Bells?”

              Godfrey couldn’t help but give a sideway look of “what have you done” to Finnley, who replied by her usual “why look at me like I did something wrong” look.

              in reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler #4318
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                The guy standing at the door was drenched by the heavy rain. He wore a tattered green raincoat with eyes on hood that made him look like a giant wet silly frog.
                Finnley, who had just opened an inch of the mansion’s door looked at him twice head to toe, then toe to frogs’ eyes, with growing suspicion.

                “What do you want?” she muttered a tad rudely, “If you sell anything, we don’t want it, especially the religious stuff.”
                “Nothing of that sort, M’am.” He drew his hand from his coat, very slowly when he noticed the feral look on Finnley’s face, ready to slam the door on his face, and produced a worn out identification. “Inspector Melon, but you can call me Walter. We have a case of missing person, family reported she was last seen in this vicinity. I would like to speak with Ms Tattler. May I enter?”

                in reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods #4314

                After days and days, there was no signs of the others.

                Rukshan had hoped they would manifest as easily as the Hermit had, without much effort on his part.
                But they had remained silent, and even the ghosts seemed to have subsided in another dimension. He couldn’t feel them any longer. It was as though his realisation had made them disappear, or change course for a while.

                He hadn’t come any closer to the inner ring of trees though, and he’d come to the conclusion that there was surely some piece missing. He was reminded of the map that the cluster of seven had found at the beginning of the story, so they could reach the magic Gem inside the Gods’ Heartswood. There was no telling if such a map existed or if it did, what form it had —after all, the story seemed to be a little too simplified.

                He was trying to figure out which was his character, and which of the curse he had inherited. The curse was rather easy he’d thought… Knowledge. It had always been his motivation, and the encounter with the Queen and the taking of the potion had keenly reminded him that for all his accumulated knowledge, he was missing the biggest part. The knowledge of himself, and who he really was. It was constantly eluding him, and he was starting to doubt even his own memories at times.

                For the past few days, having finished the last morsel of fay bread in his bag, he was subsisting on roots, mushrooms and fresh rainwater cupped in leaves and last bits of snow in treeholes. It was time to get moving, as the weather had started to change. The snow was receding too.

                Even if his quest wasn’t as sure as before, he knew he had to find a way to reach these six others, and try to figure out what they could do, or undo.

                He had a strong suspicion that the potion maker was linked to this story. Her potion had activated something deep in him, and it seemed to share the same source of power.

                With that resolution in mind, he took the path retracing his steps back to the cottage and the outside world.

                in reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler #4313
                ÉricÉric
                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.

                  in reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler #4303
                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    “Did you see Liz’?” a concerned Godfrey asked Finnley who was tailing him suspiciously.
                    “Nope.” Finnley answered with a shrug. “Not since she locked herself in that cupboard with the new gardener.”

                    Godfrey raised an eyebrow.
                    “Don’t look at me like that! They’ve been at it for hours, can’t decently bother them under the pretense of doing cleaning, can I?”
                    “I guess that was a rhetorical question.” Godfrey said, passing a finger on the dusty counter-top.
                    “Now, don’t be a smarty pants with me, old man.” Finnley said with a hint of menace in her voice. “Now, if you’ll let me, I have some garbage to get rid off.”

                    She then proceeded to take the stairs dragging a heavy sack down each step, making sure to make profound panting noises and muttering, and to bang the sack as loudly as possible with each movement.

                    in reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler #4302
                    ÉricÉric
                    Keymaster

                      “Where has Finnley gone this time?” Liz’ pestered with wide movements of her arms.
                      “Dinner isn’t going to cook itself, and honestly, as much as I said I love it, don’t let Godfrey order in more Indian food!”

                      in reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods #4311

                      Glynis knew just the potion required to counteract the living stone spell.
                      She was not sure however if it was wise to apply it to the large stone parrot. If her dream was any indication, it was meant for her. And who wouldn’t want a large joke telling parrot for companionship? Really?

                      Anyway, she sighed, that was probably the only option to learn more about this particular thing and the mysterious sender.

                      Wiping the flour off her brow, she started to gather the herbs, bones, bezoar, and the nugget of precious elerium needed for the potion.

                      in reply to: Seven Twines and the Dragon Heartwoods #4309

                      The remembrance had made the magic book reappear in Rukshan’s bag, and with it, its leaves ripe with vibrant parts of the long ago story. Rukshan started to read, immediately engrossed by the story it told.

                      When the Heartswood was young, many thousands of years ago, during the Blissful Summer Age

                      WHO
                      — The Dark FAE
                      — The Mapster DWARF
                      — The Glade TROLL
                      — The Trickster DRYAD
                      — The Tricked GIRL
                      — The Laughing CRONE
                      — The Toothless DRAGON

                      ACT 1, SCENE 1 – THE PREPARATION

                      NARRATOR: It all started as an idea, small and unnoticeable, at first. Almost too frail to endure. But it soon found a fertile soil in the mind of seven improbable acolytes. It took roots and got nourishment from greed, envy, despair, sorrow, despondence, rebellion and other traits. And it grew. That growing idea bound them together, and in search of the way to obtain what it wanted, got them to work together to do an unthinkable thing. Rob the Heartswood of its treasure, the Crest Jewel of the Gods, the radiant Gem that was at its centre. It would be the end of their sorrow, the end of the Gods unfair power of all creation… The idea obscured all others, driving them to act.

                      FAE: Did you get the map?
                      DWARF: Of course, what do you think, I am no amateur. What do you bring to the table?
                      FAE: I bring the way out. But first things first, the map will get us there, but we still need a way in. What says your TROLL friend?
                      DWARF: He heard rumours, there is a DRYAD. Her tree is dying, she tried to petition the Gods, but to no avail. She will help.
                      FAE: Can your friend guarantee it?
                      DWARF: You have damn little trust. You will see, when she brings in the GIRL. She is the key to open the woods. Only an innocent heart can do it, so the DRYAD will trick her.
                      FAE: How? I want to know everything, I don’t like surprises. An unknowing acolyte is a threat to our little heist. What’s her story?
                      DWARF: I don’t know much. Something about a broken heart, a dead one, her lover maybe. The DRYAD told the GIRL she could bring her loved one back from the dead, in the holy woods.
                      FAE: I can work with that. So we are good then?
                      DWARF: You haven’t told me about your exit plan. What is it?
                      FAE: I can’t tell you, not now. We need the effect of surprise. Now go get the others, we will reconvene at the woods’ entrance, tomorrow night, at the darkest moon of the darkest day.

                      SCENE 2 – THE CURIOUS GODMOTHER

                      GIRL: Godmother, I need to go, you are not to worry.
                      CRONE (cackling): Let me come with you, the woods are not safe at this time of the year. The Stranger is surely out there to get you.
                      GIRL: No, no, Godmother, please stay, you cannot help me, you need to rest.

                      Rukshan looked at some of the blank pages, there were still missing patches

                      ACT 2 – SCENE 3 – THE HEIST

                      In the heart of the Heartswoods

                      TROLL: Let me break that crystal, so we can share it!
                      GIRL (reaching for it to protect it): No! I need it whole!
                      DRYAD (in suave tone): Let it go! I will protect it and give you what you want…
                      GIRL: Your promises are worthless! You lied to me!
                      CRONE: (cackles) Told you!
                      DWARF: Give it to me!
                      FAE (quieting everyone): Let’s be calm, friends. Everyone can get what they want.

                      GIRL (startled): Eek! A Guardian DRAGON! We are doomed!
                      FAE (reaching too late for the crystal): Oh no, it had broken in seven pieces. I will put them in this bag, each of us will get one piece after we leave. (to the DRAGON) Lead the way out of this burning circle!
                      DWARF (understanding): Oh, that was your exit strategy…
                      FAE (rolling eyes): Obvious-ly.

                      That was all that the book had to show at the time. Rukshan thought the writer got a little lazier with the writing as the story went, but it was good enough to understand more or less what had happened.

                      There was one last thing that was shown in the book.

                      WHAT THEY STOLE
                      — Shard of Infinite Knowledge
                      — Shard of Transmutation and Shapeshifting
                      — Shard of Ubiquity and Teleportation
                      — Shard of Infinite Influence and Telepathy
                      — Shard of Infinite Life and Death
                      — Shard of Grace and Miracles
                      — Shard of Infinite Strength

                      in reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud #4307
                      ÉricÉric
                      Keymaster

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