📚 › Alienor Guardians

Stories of the Alienor system, during the rule of the Guardians, powerful alien being with godlike abilities, at the time when their planet Phreal orbited the system with the twin planets Duane and Murtuane.

So the Story goes...

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  • in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #801

    The cold wind was blowing upon the marshes. The atmosphere was damp and dark with threatening gray clouds. A storm was approaching and Asiir was dreaming.

    Her dreams were so strong that they were triggering many emotions in her rider. Since their bonding seven years ago, their link had grown stronger and Lola wouldn’t think of shutting it down even in those uncomfortable moments. They were one.

    Lola was feeling a menace, some undefined threat coming with the storm, as if the storm was just the visible counterpart of what was preparing. In those moments, Lola couldn’t help but think of her family and her village… Her fist grasped tightly the grip of the sword she was holding.

    Everyone was killed when she was nine. Her dragon wasn’t fully developed at that time and couldn’t help her save her people. All Asiir could do was shield her from them as she was shielding herself, not even thinking of it.

    She sighed deeply, releasing the pressure of the storm and of the dreams. She’d learnt not to hold on the powerful emotional responses but to open herself as a channel of her dragon’s dreams. All she could do was let the energy flow through her. Was it Asiir creating the storm or the storm disturbing Asiir’s dreams? She wasn’t aware of the answer yet, but at times it had bothered her to think that her dragon could cause “bad things” to happen.

    A chilly breeze and a surge of electricity. She grinned impishly.
    It was the time of her lesson.

    You’re late master. she thought to the shadowy figure behind her. She was feeling something different that day in the presence. You’re not alone. I can feel a different energy with you today…

    The dragon growled in her agitated sleep.

    Your emotions are dragon drenched again, Lola. I know you consider it a proof of your connection with your beast, but it may be far more damaging than you think.

    Lola had felt a twinge at how Samira had called her friend, she was feeling her emotions rise dangerously to the point which she had learned she could not control herself. She had always wondered if Samira was seriously considering dragons as beasts or if she was teasing her, especially since she had let the connection develop in such a way.

    You’re going to have a new teacher…

    Lola’s heartbeat accelerated slightly, so slightly, but she could feel her mentor’s smile upon her interrogations. Was she leaving? She’d always dreaded such a moment. She felt the wry expression of Samira.

    I’m not going away… you need a training that I can’t give you. You need to learn how to ride properly over your bond and not get consumed by it, and Noraam can teach you that.

    A strange impression of connection with the new energy flew in her, making her feel quite uneasy. Such an intimacy was unusual with another human energy. Or was he human?

    A sudden surge of energy made her wince. She turned to her mentor and was surprised to only see Samira in her stout armor. She could feel the strength of the other energy but she couldn’t give him a form. She was feeling nudged gently from many directions at the same time and realized that she was afraid of loosing her bond with her friend. Wasn’t she trusting her bond? Another chill, and the rain started falling.

    You won’t really need all that Samira taught you during these last 4 years

    The inner voice was almost inaudible, but still she could feel it was not a voice and that the communication was going through another pathway. The vegetation of the marshes and few rocks were shifting to an unnatural yellow tint, and the faint glow around her teacher was growing in intensity. Actually, all the objects around her was beginning to glow, the limits of their shapes were collapsing.

    Lola was sill feeling the link with Asiir but it was thinning down in such an unfamiliar way.

    I’m going to help you remove the veils that Samira helped you put on your consciousness when you first met. But first you need to renew the link with yourself.

    She heard a vague sound of steel on the ground… had she lost her sword? She couldn’t feel her body. She couldn’t move as she was used to… but was it still something to move? The face of a man was forming in the energy patterns of the glowing clouds. Was he close or far away? Was he huge or of human size? Was she massive?

    A pounding sound in the distance of her inner ear… a familiar call but she was still so far.

    in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #804

      He was sitting at his desk in his study room. He was alone, reading a report on the emerging clan of the teardrop Island of Tur. Their Elders were apparently beginning to gather some influence upon their kin. The Rule of the Guardians was still prevalent, even though it was now being questioned by these humans. The fear impressed upon their mind for centuries was strong enough to keep them away from the caves leading to the portals, yet from day to day it was diminishing. The Guardians could feel it, but it mattered not, now.

      Sinadron scratched his head with his left hand. He was old by the standard of the Guardians. A few centuries. He was one of the strongest along with 2 of the others. Noraam and Keliom, who were still in their youth, were 2 of the 12 other Gates, the higher honorific among them. Their influence was strong as they were the focal points of the powers of their people in the most powerful rituals.

      Pushing back the report, he took the wooden cookie jar. Once opened, the smell of the Langurdy cinnamon spread all over the space. Intoxicating scent. He was quite fond of this commodity, rare and sophisticate, the cookies were made by humans. Sinadron was thankful to them in the culinary area. The metabolism of the Guardians was quite different from that of the humans, and their preferences in matter of food were also quite different, though they could share some of them, and the Landurdy cinnamon was one.

      He had been so engrossed in his appreciation of the spice that he hadn’t noticed the nudging in his left arm. When he finally realized that someone was trying to contact him he closed the jar and put it back in place, beneath his key. He took his hand capacitor and focused on the kinesthetic movements of the molecules of his arm. It was his preferred method to focus on the caller’s energy. The vibrations were those of Nareena, one of the Gates of the Phréal. She wouldn’t let her energy merge in such intimacy, though she knew his interest.

      Sinadron took a more comfortable position on his rocky chair and directed its energy in such a way that it would adapt to the form of his body consciousness. Slowly reconfiguring so he could relax more fully.

      In a flash all was said. She’d given him an energy ball and he had captured it, using his capacitor to store it up. No more interaction was necessary, and from the surface of the message ball, he knew it was not so important. He would consult it later. Sitting up, he put his still glowing capacitor on his desk and took back his cookie jar while the rocky chair was reconfiguring again to adapt to his new position.

      What a smell… :chomping:

      in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #890

      The Council room was silent but the energy was tense and electric.
      Nareena and Noraam were reading an energy ball from their peers on the Murtuane’s Kandulim shore. There had been an uprising of the Zentauras concerning exactions committed by what could be called a rebel faction of the Guardians. They had no name to call them, and they were invisible to their search, through their inner vision or other devices.
      The Gates were concerned by this behavior amongst their kin, especially since they would soon face a difficult choice in their evolution and society. Keliom had warned them since the beginning many years ago when it was just speculations, when they were needing a source of power so intense that it was against their knowledge to even believe in it.
      But the source had been found. It was through an unexpected mean. And now…

      This is unacceptable from our kind Noraam. The Council should decide something to get rid of these culprits.

      You know that it is against our customs. And especially, Sinadron and Keliom wouldn’t allow it and you know their influence over the others.

      I also sense that you are not comfortable with the idea either…

      Nareena sighed with resignation.

      I wonder how far would they have to go before we decide to do something. It is something to disregard the other races, but it is another to tease them and attack them. It is not even a matter of really wanting to hurt them, I feel a deliberate desire to make them angry against us, and I wonder who among us would want that.

      Noraam looked at her, intrigued. He saw the face of a man, a vautruche on his left shoulder. The only one of them who would want a vautruche as a pet. These animals were so unpredictable that one could think they were a vicious species, but they were expressing qualities such as determination and swiftness that were also somewhat desirable, and he could understand that. They were really fascinating with their moving colors. Depending on their mood, their skin was quickly changing, pulsing, irradiating, glazing, hypnotic, or just dark and unnoticeable.

      Do you really mean what I briefly saw, Nareena?

      She blushed before his twinge. I don’t trust him, and he makes me feel very uncomfortable. She wouldn’t admit to him that she was sensing some sexual attraction from him, and to him, but she couldn’t accept it as his energy was mostly repulsing and the thirst of power she could glimpse in his eyes was simply frightening.

      No, I don’t like Sinadron .

      in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #921

      It had been a week now. Georges had fully taken his role as Shu-Lom, the eleventh Gate in the Council of the Guardians. His mergence with the actual focus of Blöhmul was fading out ; the transition had been smooth, unnoticed by most of the Guardians, even his closest friends. Georges was careful not to display any unusual change in Shu-Lom’s attitude, though some of them were showing signs of suspicion, especially… his own focus, Sinadron who was the most susceptible to be aware of the difference. Georges had been avoiding him since his arrival, but he would eventually have to face him for one of the rituals soon to begin.
      Of the eleventh other Guardians, only 2 were considering him as a friend, Doh’Maar and Vogel. Most of the others were ignoring him during the sessions and Sinadron were despising him. Well, technically he was despising Shu-Lom and the change would not make things go easier between the 2 of them as the energy of their 2 focuses were sort of repulsing each other.
      Following Shu-Lom’s habits, he was heading to the public baths, but contrary to him, he was going during daylight. He needed some answers. He had been feeling strong tensions between the Gates, and there were also underlying feeling of discontentment and anger among the other Guardians. For the first time in their history, unknown groups of their kind were attacking the other races and provoking them and generating feelings of fear, even amongst the Guardians.
      The man he was following would give him some of the answers. He would have to befriend him first though. Noraam had a smooth energy, and he would be easy to approach, especially in the dampness of the baths.

      Noraam was wearing an grey cape, attached on his shoulders with carved fibulae. His robe was short, above his knees, and rather dark. He was quite young by the standards of the Guardians and still fiery. Shu-Lom was young too, about the same age as Noraam, but he was quite pessimistic and self-effacing, and especially he wanted to leave, that he did, and Georges took his place.
      Georges suddenly felt a familiar energy, one that he would recognize anywhere, anytime. Salome… rather another focus of her essence. Hahaha, that was a surprise, and he almost lost track of what he was doing. Noraam was already taking the stairs up to the baths. Something about the energy of that focus was attractive, he still didn’t know who it was or what he/she(?) was doing here. Maybe just a projection. He didn’t have time to investigate. Heading to the stairs where Noraam was already being dematerialized and rematerialized to the first level, he heard a child’s voice.

      Can you help me?.. I know you can.

      What again, another distraction… he would be late to the baths and maybe loose the occasion to speak with the other Gate.

      Looking down at the origin of the voice, he was surprised to see a little girl, red hair and amber eyes. As he could see, she was blind, but as he could feel, she was quite capable of seeing things.

      Do I know you, little one? He had not been aware of this child in Shu-Lom’s memories, and he was wondering if he had missed something during his encounters with the original.

      You dreamt of me the other night, but you weren’t here yet.

      Her last words triggered a memory, of him carrying a naked little girl in his arms, protecting her in a way, and he was following a man in his dream, trying to keep track… in his dream, he was rushing and almost lost the child, following also Salome who had already taken the stairs… yes he was here in his dreams, the place and the stairs were the same… as was the child.

      What is your name little one? In my dream you were followed by an owl
      You can call me Ar’Meel.


      Sam thought he could write it somewhat differently. With his understanding of Georges’ abilities, he could well have split in two and followed Salome and stayed with the girl simultaneously and maybe even Noraam.
      A smile.
      He was feeling wobbly and wavy. A ripple effect?
      It seemed that there had been a strange recognition between his character and himself. It was like Georges was aware of Sam wanting to change what had happened… or was it a suggestion of Georges?

      in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #1134

      Georges and Salome’s journal

      From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 1)

      Georges being involved more and more within the Quorum of Jokans, it has enabled me, if only by proxy, to get more acquainted with the personality of each of them.
      The Guardians are an ancient and very distinctive race which is, in many aspects, surprisingly similar to our Dream Walkers. One of these points of similarity is their aptitude at morphing their environment, and altering much of the physical properties of it within their dimension of operation.
      I suspect that, similarly to our Dream Walkers being responsible for the creation of physical focus as we currently experiment it in our Earth dimension, they are also for a great part responsible for the creation of many a species in the neighbouring noospheres —note that I shall occasionally use “Noosphere” as a word more apt to convey certain notions rather than the word “planet” which is loaded with certain beliefs.

      I will not enter into the social details of the race of the Guardians in this note, as it would be too long for this place, and Georges will probably explain it in more details later.
      However, I shall use this as an opportunity to introduce a character who soon became a close ally in our explorations of this universe.
      As a matter of fact, I came as a surprise to both of us when she started to pierce through Georges disguise, flawless as it may have been. We found out that they shared a connection which probably was the cause for their allowance of connection through the veils of their disguises in time and space.
      A rather elegant member of the Quorum of Twelve, Cil —as she is named, pronounced See’l — intuitively found out that we were not really who we claimed to be, especially that we were not from her known universe at all. But what could have been a difficult situation turned out for the best, as she was equally eager to discover about us, as we were about her people and universe.

      The recent reports of uprisings of the Zentauras was the matter which was seriously discussed, and it was decided as a favour from Noraam to Cil to allow her to go for an investigation on the Murtuane, to find out the reasons for this matter, if not the culprits among their kin.
      Needless to say that I was very much enthusiastic at the idea of having a guide to explain me more on the relationships at play…

      (Part 2)

      in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #1186

      Arona was fretting.

      “Now, what is this all about? Can someone explain me? The purple sand is pretty, the green sky too, however it looks just like an insane dream from a deranged mind having abused smoke of robjane leaves.”

      Framing Irtak —who was having a funny pout on his face— the dragons Heckle and Jeckle were too busy considering with an amused attention the new form and energy field that their progenitor had taken.

      No words were spoken to answer Arona’s plea for answers, but answers were starting to come to them in the form of a bundle of energy which would be difficult to translate in a linear manner.

      They started to understand a few things. That for one, N’meôrl the Nirgual was not here by chance, at this place and time. Again, they had travelled far in the past of the history of their dimension, and events of great importance were in motion, that they were given to witness.

      At first, the flow of information they were having was like a stream they thought they had no control of, but as questions were forming they noticed that it was altering the flow which was then encompassing the answers to those questions.

      Like when Jeckle wondered if he and his twin had big birdies counterparts like this one to merge with, and got the following answer “No. For you are quite new essences fragments, and thus do not yet hold focuses in similar extent to your progenitor.”

      Arona was quite pleased by this new mode of getting answers, especially as she could visibly get the answers she was genuinely looking for, not those coming from questions she was only remotely interested in.

      N’meôrl was showing them also, that unlike him, they were not quite physically focused into that environment, and were not noticed by the small surrounding creatures like the little red scrabs crawling in the sand. They were mainly there to observe and draw their own conclusions, as soon some events would occur.

      As they’d finished absorbing the information, they started to notice a feeling of expectation in the air. N’meôrl conveyed to them that they would have to stay quiet in his peripheral awareness for “they” were coming, and he was on a delicate mission.


      Footsteps on the beach.
      A man approaching. He looks like Irtak and Arona, as if he had just come into this alien world from the same door they had taken. But he fails to notice them.

      He stays, facing the deep green waters of the ocean brushing the shore, as if expecting someone.

      A strange buzz starts to fill the space. A point of focused light the size of a pinhole appears in front of him, expands quickly with an elastic quality, and pops with a soft sound, revealing an improbably tall figure under a cloak.

      The man greets the new-comer with deference
      “Master Sinadron
      Jarvis, my good friend.”

      They start to walk on the beach at the unspoken invitation of the one with the smooth voice named Sinadron.

      “So, I’ve been told our little matter is going very well.”
      “Yes, very well, Master; I am deeply grateful for your intervention; without your help I’ve been told, my dear would not have been allowed to…”
      “Let’s not talk of such things any longer; it was such a delight to help two sweet young souls so deeply in love”

      Somehow, despite the words of kindness which are slithering with ease, the invisible witness got the uncanny feeling that they are but a deceptive fragment of the truth.

      “Now. Tell me”, the one named Sinadron continues in a mellifluous voice “Why have you called me for?”
      “The settlement you have suggested us to start on this land…”
      “Yes, I am aware, please go to the point instead of labouring things I am well aware of.” The voice had sharpened a bit.
      “I am sorry Master.”
      “There is a growing dissent that…”
      “And from who that shall come?”
      “Err… I hear Pelorus has spoken to the Zentauras…”
      “Pelorus is but a nuisance.” The voice wasn’t asking for contradiction, though an imperceptible grin was floating on the half-hidden face.
      He continued “But I shall help you, once again
      “Master, you are too generous…”
      “Let me finish. I will provide you with more men and women, willing to start a new life under your command, to help you grow your settlement. There are a few slaves on the Duane, that place from where you come who will do great.”
      “They will be there in an hexade. Make sure you stand your ground until then, even if that means confronting those nasty Zentauras.”

      And without waiting for the confused thanks, he disappeared, grinning widely.

      in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #1272

        His species was dying.
        He knew there were a possibility to save his people in mixing their encoding patterns with that of the Turmaki.

        But what was their intent as a species? The Ancient Gates were gone, only a few of them had remained after the shift of the Phreal. Tor Amok had chosen to stay along with some friends. The temptation to follow the others had been great, but something was still holding him in the old ways.

        He had to talk with their officials and offer them to share their paths.

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