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  • in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #592

    Outside the apartment, the sky was a pale grey, with some delicate hues of more silvered clouds of smoke spewed out by the brick and concrete chimneys. Winter time was a few degrees warmer in the big city than in the countryside, on most of the scales he could think of: temperature, decibels at least,… and certainly a few others he didn’t know of.

    Yurick (or Quintin as he was still known) was spending some time at his friend Gustav ’s place, Gustav having moved a while ago from Vienna to Paris, for a new job opportunity in the gaming industry. Gustav was living for a large part in a fantasy world full of trolls, ogres, thieves, demonists and other creatures, which made his conversations always fascinating. It was like he could get his own information about some shifty aspects in consciousness, and they were translated rather undistortedly through these fantasy adventures.

    To Yurick, Paris felt almost less familiar than these other dimensional worlds, and bearably less colourful. But when he’d come back the day before, he had found not much changed, and the ambivalence he felt towards Paris wasn’t a stark dislike, as he could have felt some months before. Furthermore, as he was becoming closer to Yann, colours were coming back into his perception of that odd reality.

    And it seemed that Yurick was developing an uncanny propensity to see 23 or 53 each time he looked up at the clock. Making him wonder if that could have any use at all ;)).

    in reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud #1989
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      HE managed NOT TO GET lost WITH THE spiders downstream,
      HIS exploration sense WAS NOW yellow, AND THAT opened SOME NEW thinking AND ideaS,
      HIS hands COULD easily CHANGE THE maleDICTION THAT HE’D seen,
      AND IT seemed A close light WOULD bounce FORTH
      ANNOUNCING SOMETHING fine AND soon great TO COME.

      in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #587
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        Georges and Salome’s journal

        From Salome’s account of their first journey to the Alienor star system

        I had more insights about the Murtuane and its biosphere. The race of green-skinned people seem to foster some deeply religious feelings. Not religious as in our age old beliefs on Earth, nothing of that sort. It’s more “religious” in the sense of caring for life, and the sacredness of it.
        It seems they are so attuned to their feelings that they can feel in each other’s waves of moods, so that it becomes very difficult for them to entertain such violence that we have been enacting for so long on Earth.
        It is like they form some kind of invisible bond, and can feel each other through the belonging of some kind of unseen social memory complex. I think they call each others Children of Turmak, or somewhat close.

        There are other forms of lives present here, many underwater, and I can feel some ties between the Nirguals (those huge eagle-like winged beings) and what we, on Earth, remember as “dragons”. It is as though they are different forms of the same energetic blueprints, or species… In evolutionary terms, it would be tantamount to say that they share a common ancestor, but I know it is none of that either.
        The Nirguals (let us call them like that for the time being) are indigenous to this planetoid of Murtuane, but they somewhat seem to have seeded some of them on the Duane, the dual or sister planet — though this is my loose interpretation… But even though it reminds me of a cuckoo being forgetful of its eggs in another nest, this strikes me as an evidence of some kind of awareness of each other, by each of the planets sentients. And also of an evidence of a kind of travel route between the two, though discontinuous if not vagarious, and probably uni-directional as per now, as nothing tends to corroborate a continuous interaction.

        in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #586
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          In the discave, full of glimmering lights, and bouncing dragons, Salome started to sing an old tune :

          :weather-clear: Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with rain. :weather-showers-scattered:
          Sunny, you smiled at me and really eased the pain. :weather-few-clouds:
          :weather-storm: The dark days are gone, and the bright days are here, :weather-clear:
          My sunny one shines so sincere.
          Sunny one so true, I love you.
          :heart:

          in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #584

          Malika jotted down some notes on the chat window, depicting the images as they whizzed into her mind like the pages of a multicoloured flip-book

          “As she swam swiftly to regain the spot of her observation, she skimmed almost to the surface, and as she did, she saw lights. She surfaced and heard sounds that resembled the music that she and her sisters played.
          They held in their hands objects that projected sounds…

          :fleuron:

          As she swam swiftly to regain the spot of her observation, she skimmed almost to the surface, and as she did, she saw lights. She surfaced and heard sounds that resembled the music that she and her sisters played.
          They held in their hands objects that projected sounds, and their echoes in the waters were projecting harmonious symphonies that were carried miles across the waters.

          How odd that the sounds where so similar to the ones she had always known. But they were different, rasher, suffused of a violent nature which was so alien to the world she was coming from. It all was perplexing, and almost deafening to her. Her eyes getting slowly accustomed to the light could not yet perceive that there was no longer the life she’d felt on the strange floating body, but she knew it assuredly even without seeing it.

          She plunged back into the waters, to reattain the gliding peace and softness that she had been missing so much already, even though she had been out of it for barely a few moments.

          Where was the life she had felt… Gone in the strange world of the surface? She knew so little of that world, that she imagined that all their creatures could swim as easily in the airs as she could do in the waters. Was there a bottom to their environment?
          All of these questions were erupting and expanding in her mind, when a sudden feeling got her forthwith.

          She could feel him. Sinking slowly… and she could feel his pain inside, something else that was alien to her… He was so fascinating…
          She swam fleetly to where he was.
          She turned in small rounds around him, following closely his descent, not daring to touch him.
          So alien, yet so beautiful.

          She could communicate with him, as he was in something close to a deep slumber, and allowing for that exchange to happen. It was a breach of the rules, she knew.
          She had been told not to interfere with things from the surface, yet she was interfering already, and she’d always been doing it in a sense… At what point did that breach leapt from her imagination to reality? She couldn’t say…

          The light was casting a yellow radiance in the blue waters. A feeling of warmth and comfort surrounding them.
          He was telling her he was dying, yet he was comfortable. Time meant nothing…
          She conveyed to him that she could help him, bring him back to his floating station, where he could spring back into his world… She wanted to share so many things with him…

          in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #581

          Aglaë had been reluctantly coming back to the games of her sisters, when Thalÿs, the eldest had come back from her trip.
          She’d had trouble with one of her dolphins who had fallen ill, and had been seeking advice from one of the healers in another distant underwater city.

          Eufrosÿn, her other sister was listening to her account, and was amazed at the similarities between her sister’s depiction and her own recent dream imageries. But Aglaë, who was usually very fond of such bizarre coincidences, barely did more than a few silent nods.

          Her mind was halfway here, and halfway there, with the mysterious life she had felt on the surface…
          She wanted to come back, and a sudden impulse made her leave her sisters without an explanation and rush to her spot of observation.

          in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #578

          Aglaë had been looking at the odd shape floating over the surface, mistaking it at first for the strange dead body of a creature of the lands.
          But it was not, she could feel life on it, ever so light.

          She knew the rules of her kind, and she shouldn’t be seen… She had been venturing already too close from the tabooed surface, her sisters would have told her.

          But curiosity was great… irrepressible…

          in reply to: Join me for a gourd of langoat milk…… #1420
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            As with a toad’s lick, yikes! All become tad clear too ;))

            in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #575
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              Georges and Salome’s journal

              From Salome’s account of their first journey to the Alienor star system

              The Jorid has spotted what will be the destination for our first joined adventure.
              It’s a dimension which seems unexplored yet, and rather fascinating. Georges, as he is, would already have jumped right in, but I preferred to get a little more background information before moving into it. It’s still a little awkward to move into these realms where the laws of physics as we’ve known them are different, sometimes dramatically so. These would not be too much of a difficulty as the adaptation of the physical body usually goes quite fast, as Georges has shown me when we trained in more familiar dimensions, but the most delicate part is when we barely know the relationships at play.
              Georges will laugh because he’s more confident that everything is perfect, but somehow, I tend to believe that things can be a little more perfect when we know how to avoid making faux-pas.
              So we’ve spent a few days gathering some basic informations on this dimension we call Alienor. The most part of the activity seems to revolve around a cluster of planetoids. At this moment, it’s forming a system of three planets revolving on the same orbit around their sun. We call them Duane, Murtuane, and Phrëal.
              They seem to form a complex web of relationships, and cover such a wide range of aspects that we have decided on a mutual agreement to split our exploration to cover more ground for a beginning.
              Georges is exploring the Duane, and I took the Murtuane, both planetoids seeming to come from the same core of matter, in a manner of speaking. The feeling around the Phrëal is more ambivalent, as though it is undergoing some deep change, not unlike to the Shift that will be (or has been) occurring on our Earth. So, we’ve decided not to interfere with it right now. It may take a dozen of years (as we understand them) for them to undergo that process, but it’s not like we care of time issues in any case.

              Here are my first observations concerning the Murtuane. Obviously, it ties into the Duane, but I am not completely aware of all of these ties yet.
              The first connection I had to the Murtuane was with some ancient beings living here. I saw myself riding one of these sentient beings, gliding through the sky in a mountainous land. The colours are vivid, even if the atmosphere seems very light, and filtering the sun’s ray in a spectrum slightly more indigo than our sky on Earth. These beings, whose name I can’t yet translate accurately (it’s something close to Nirgual) are powerful winged focuses of essence, though I suspect this to be a mere convenient form that they use. They somewhat remind me of the Rokhs (or Rocs) that the sultan’s wifes were telling us about in their legends. Apparently, they are respected, perhaps feared by the people inhabiting the lands, though I can feel they are for the most part benevolent.
              These people, those that I could spot, seem to have a slightly green skin, but overall humanoid form (within my translation of them).

              I will probably have more to connections once we gather our impressions with Georges.

              in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #572

              The meowing of the angora Zhulie had woken up Yurick.
              The past few nights, he had not heard her at all, but tonight, she seemed to request specifically his presence.
              Last evening during the dinner, it had cracked him up because the cat was acting funny when it had smelled the cooked bamboo shoots of the sautéed vegetables he had for dinner. Perhaps a recognition of the Pekingese that he had once seen her to be, in shared focus in Imperial China.

              Well, obviously Zhulie was no ordinary feline. Her character reminded Yurick of a blend of himself, Yann, Finn and his own mother. So that each time he was playing with her, he instantly had them in mind, in various orders of appearance, or strengths.

              In any case, when he came back to his bed, Yurick was annoyed at first, to have been drawn out of his comfortable dreams, but he managed somewhat to get back to a state of relaxation, in between dreams and reality —which was obviously a mere way of saying things, as dreams are reality.

              Speaking of dreams, his mind was wandering around the news that his mother had told him, about a distant cousin having published a book revolving around dreams and fantasies.

              And then, within the dream, in the dream, in the dream,… an idea formed into his mind with the clarity of an evidence.
              He could see it happening… Not only one book, but… oh, he couldn’t wait to tell his friends!

              in reply to: QUIZ TIME: Test YOUR grasp #2097
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                Well, as your comment Tracy was posted 57 minutes ago… this must be a clue :-?

                in reply to: QUIZ TIME: Test YOUR grasp #2093
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  Might it be that I overlooked it being a significant clue? :-?
                  :magnify: Let me fumble into the cluebox :cluebox:

                  in reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud #1986
                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    Word Cloud: told “reality follow thought, shape energy”

                    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #569

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

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

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

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

                    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #567

                    Veranassessee (V’ass) Eloha, swimming like a naiad in the waves of the sapphire sea bordering the island of Tikfijikoo, was back in a few powerful strokes on the wooden planks of the pier from which she had just fallen.

                    Trained in many martial arts and in the art of concealing her emotions, she effortlessly managed to maintain a perfect composure despite the fact that this unexpected moment of inattention may have cost the loss of the precious box of rare Blue Bonnet spiders —the venom of which was needed for the good success of the “treatments”.

                    Sharon and Gloria, still cackling unceasingly, thanked Armando, the pilot of the seaplane, who had entertained them no end with his stories of mysterious wreckages and lost aircrafts.
                    Now they’d just landed on this paradisaic island, and a gorgeous woman dripping in water was extending them a firm hand, greeting them.

                    :fleuron:

                    Al was wondering who had jinxed his last entry in the play, that he had to write twice, since some invisible mischievous hand had just made him lose the first in the /dev/null dimension.
                    Good thing the Sumafairies bent over his crib had been gifting him with a good memory…

                    :fleuron:

                    Welcome at Tikfijikoo, where your kewlest dreams come troo.

                    V’ass was satisfied. Though, most of the box had been lost, she had managed to save two couples of spiders, which would be enough for the two turkeys. :yahoo_chicken:
                    As for the remaining ones, let’s just hope they’re all dead and drowned.

                    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #562

                    Now who the bloody hell is Alfina… Al was finding Becky’s obliviousness dangerously contagious…
                    Of course, Alfina… He had seen her in his dreams at times, in the form of a splendid she-wolf named Iona.

                    She’s also Aina in Yurick’s timeline… his future focus Janice whispered to Al, and smiled as she was seeing other probabilities forming in other dimensions in which Iona played an interesting role…

                    in reply to: The Room of Requirements #1495
                    ÉricÉric
                    Keymaster

                      Mmmm, did you said something Tracey Pooh? :yahoo_liar:

                      in reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud #1974
                      ÉricÉric
                      Keymaster

                        WOW… lots of interesting ones in that cloud here:

                        — Once under thinking, session clear words God/Human waiting speaking word, language beginning feeling looked. Key herself aware […]
                        — Gaughran home looking funny random energies
                        — Tracy floating, magic color seemed trip
                        — Points side mountains, process great
                        — Bugger difficult! Nice interesting moment link :bounce: creating action
                        — Trust help face aspects seems play
                        — Structures changing… Dancing green heart Finn
                        — Badul getting synch princess
                        — Twilight book important
                        — Elikozoe stories singing magical times. Able feel sort understand images mind, read Armelle. Voice started moments sync call Maevel…

                        in reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud #1973
                        ÉricÉric
                        Keymaster

                          This one feels like a poem…

                          Caught during game surprise
                          “Thought focus”, reality eye
                          true sleep, eggs feel magic
                          looked against felt process
                          difficult face created come

                          in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #542

                          The old abbot Hrih, was coming back from the gardens of the Monastery, the soil dampened and muddied by the heavy rains of the season sticking to the sole of his sandals. Hrih Chokyam loved to be reacquainted with the rawness of nature, and the fluidity that the rain provided to the ground by transforming it into malleable mud.

                          He was bringing back vegetables for the dinner’s soup, and was amazed at the fact that even though he had felt so close to the earth, barefooted in his sandals, he had not even a drop of mud on him.

                          He had delayed his choice for much too long already, and the not so subtle pressing of his main confident Aum Geong to officially elect his successor was making him unquiet. He was deeply trustful of Aum Geog, and of his sincerity as a Holder of the clear Light that was being tapped into, channeled and refined by the Monastery’s spiritual endeavours.
                          But Hrih was feeling that Aum Geong’s views were slightly too narrow for the heavy task he was wanting him to carry on.
                          He was too good at creating structures and rules, and Hrih felt that even if all done in good intent, it would be taking the risk of chocking the great outburst of powerful energy that was lying at the very foundations of the Monastery.

                          The young man that he had noticed a few hexades1 ago, though very discreet seemed bright and very dedicated to his task. He had been greeted by all, and had soon felt at home. Franiel, as he was named, was under the tutelage of Jog Lam, a very wise (albeit young) monk that Hrih had adopted some years ago as the parents had been abandoning him a young baby at the eternally opened doors of the Monastery.

                          Hrih had made a decision. He would not play favourites. Seeing the blank black Meditation Wall, an idea crossed his mind. He would announce at the dinner that the monks willing to do it could do a short poem of 3 stanzas where they would express their highest truth on the Meditation Wall…

                          :fleuron:

                          1 On that part of the Duane (the planet where Mount Elok’ram is), time is divided in groups of six days or hexades, each being attributed to one of the Elder Gods: Ghört (Airs) Nærvel (Waters) Agnima (Flames) Selvaniel (Woods) Margilonia (Earths) and Lejüs (Forgotten). The names or the days are Ghordië, Narduë, Agduë, Seldië, Marduë, Shandië.

                          Name Element Quality Hexade
                          Ghört Airs Male Ghordië
                          Nærvel Waters Female Narduë
                          Agnima Flames Female Agduë
                          Selvaniel Woods Male Seldië
                          Margilonia Earths Female Marduë
                          (Shaint) Lejüs Forgotten Male Shandië
                        Viewing 20 replies - 1,561 through 1,580 (of 1,722 total)