Yui-chan

Pound. Pound. Let me out! Pound. Please! Let me out of here! Pound. There's so much I would do! So much I want to do! Pound. Pound. On the far side of his eyes, the boy bashes will against frailty in lifelong frustration. On this side, his slack face and misshapen body are deathly still, eternally peaceful. The caretaker wipes the drool from the corner of his mouth before turning the wheelchair away from the cage and moving on towards the elephants.

Thud. x_x (That's me falling over dead from so many bad puns in close proximity. )

Thank you, everyone, for your help! For anyone who is still planning on putting their two cents' worth in, I'm going to submit this tomorrow, so time is running out. Sincerely, ~Yui

When the scholar failed to look up from her reading and respond, Gyrfalcon and Timothy exchanged a quick, agreeing glance. The archmage answered Y'tren. "Yes. That's fine. We'll meet at the south gate at dawn." Only slightly hesitant, the half-elf stood and bowed politely to their new 'allies' before turning to gather his companions and leave. Outside the tavern door, the two men turned west, heading for the warm inn where they'd rented rooms that day, both deep in thought. It wasn't until they'd rounded the corner of a butcher's shop that Timothy realized that Kaleyra wasn't following. With a frown, he put his hand on Gyrfalcon's arm to get his attention. At the mage's puzzled look, Timothy cocked his head back over his shoulder to where a pair of tall salt-and-pepper wings were quickly disappearing into the crowd. "We seem to have lost someone." Gyrfalcon's frown overshadowed his companion's as they both started off after her. "How much would you care to wager that she's heading to the library, again?" Timothy smirked. "I wouldn't take that bet. I'd lose." Oblivious to the two men trying to fight their way to her through the rush of people heading home for the evening, Kal wandered down the street with her head buried in a worn copy of The Brothers Gruff presents: Myths and Legends of Ancient Times. As she read through the 'children's tale' of "The Fountain of Wisdom", she somehow managed not to crash into anyone. Luckily, she wasn't paying enough attention to hear the curses thrown at her by the people who had to dodge out of her way. As she stepped into the middle of the square, it hit her. "Of course!" People all around the winged scholar stopped and stared at her as she dropped to the cobblestones in the middle of 'traffic' and set her pack on the ground in front of her. When Gyrfalcon and Timothy reached her, she was rifling through the contents to pull forth a tattered old journal. Tim blinked down at Kaleyra, his frown deepening when she didn't even seem to notice that they were standing there. This one's practically a danger to herself! What if the men who stood over her were thieves or muggers instead of friends? The thought caused a flare of annoyance, and his voice was sharper than he'd intended as he barked, "What're you doing?!" Kal jumped, clutching the journal to her chest as she blinked up at Timothy with wide eyes. "Oh! I-I… I didn't know you two had decided to accompany me." "Yes, well," Gyrfalcon interrupted a bit more gently, shooting a glance at Tim, "we didn't want you to wander off by yourself, and you hadn't told us where you were going, Kaleyra." The Avian blinked, a bit surprised. It hadn't even occurred to her to mention that she was going back to her research. As she gathered her pack and her two books back up, she offered both of them a contrite look. "I am sorry. I was simply so engrossed in this collection of human folklore!" As if that explained everything, she offered the Brothers Gruff's book to Timothy with a bright smile. Timothy scowled at the book, considering the misleading 'clouds and rainbows' presentation of life in such sugary children's tales. "Great. Lovely. Now, let's get out of the street and somewhere safe." He eyes scanned the crowd and the rooftops as he grabbed the young woman's arm and started away. "But--… I--… The book! I —" "We can talk about it at the inn, Kaleyra," the human interrupted, striding all the more purposefully with her in tow. His expression was a mixture of annoyance, worry, and wariness. Behind them, Gyrfalcon trailed along, keeping a watchful eye on Timothy's strange behavior, but silent so long as he wasn't really harming the scholar. When she glanced back at him beseechingly, the half-elf merely shook his head slightly. "No, he's right. We've got a day of travel, tomorrow, and you need to rest. You didn't sleep much last night, remember?" In answer, she frowned, trying hard not to stumble as Timothy kept a brisk pace. "Yes, but… but I wanted to inform you of –" " Not here!" The words were ground out between gritted teeth as Timothy squeezed her arm painfully. He watched the crowd, glaring at anyone who dared to look their way. "I swear, for an intellectual, you're incredibly bloody stupid!" When the annoyed glare swung to the woman beside him, it was met by a tragic look of surprised hurt swimming in big, stormy-blue eyes. Timothy winced, his anger deflating like a water skin with a split seam. He could sense Gyrfalcon's disapproving glare boring into his back. He felt like a heel, but at the same time he certainly didn't want the Avian blurting out all of their secrets in the crowded streets. Kaleyra lowered her troubled eyes to the cobbles and walked meekly beside the historian, clutching her oldest journal tight to her chest. Stupid. I'm stupid? N-no one's ever called me stupid before. But… But of course, he's right. We're endeavoring to be secretive, and my vociferous announcements of my findings in the middle of the street would have sabotaged that effort. She sighed, her shoulders drooping even further. Timothy is right. I am stupid. I was so proud of deciphering the Veil's mystery that I didn't think about what I was doing. Stupid… She crossed the rest of the short distance to the inn in silence, her thoughts distracted from the fascinating use of the Vishari Veil for the first time since she'd seen it. It wasn't until they were seated in Gyrfalcon's room, the door and windows firmly shut, that she raised her eyes from the ground and spoke. "Um… According to my research, this relic is known as the Vishari Veil," she muttered, carefully unwrapping the crystal statue as she pulled it from her pack. "It was created by the Vishari eons ago to reveal the island that is home to the Pool of Eternal Reflection." At her offering, Gyrfalcon gingerly took the falcon into his hands, turning it over as he examined it. "'Reveal the island'?" he queried, glancing up at the scholar. Kal nodded, dropping her gaze to the book of children's tales as she opened it. The page she offered to her two companions showed a small, half-transparent island appearing in a sparkle of magic. "Yes. Um… you see, to protect the Pool, the island was hidden sometime in the past, concealed by an elaborate illusion that fools not only the eyes but the senses as well. They… uh… they say that not even the most accomplished mages can sense it without an artifact to direct them. I haven't found direct evidence, but I believe that there were two such artifacts created, one by the S'den and this one, by the Vishari." Timothy looked up with a sharp frown. "You mean, there's another statue out there that our new 'allies' could get ahold of?" Blinking, the scholar didn't meet his gaze but instead kept her eyes on the tattered journal in her lap. "Well, possibly, but … um… as I stated, that's only my own theory. It's probably incorrect." "If they had any leads to another artifact, they'd never have dealt with us, Timothy," Gyrfalcon pointed out gently. "I'd say that we don't need to worry about that. "So you know how to use this Veil, right, Kaleyra?" He carefully handed the crystal back to her as she nodded. "I… um… well, I'm relatively certain that I do. The key was buried in the children's tale that arose from the historical events." She ran her hand tenderly over the Brothers Gruff book, her expression warming just a bit as she muttered, "There's often more truth in cultural myths and legends than anyone realizes." After a moment, her attention returned to the statue in her other hand. "The Veil must be used within a certain optimum distance of the island and in certain light conditions. Er… but most importantly," she continued, wincing a bit with the knowledge that what she was about to say sounded very strange, "it must have the correct song sung to it. Um… I don't suppose either of you sing?" Uncertainly, she looked up at her companions...

Don't worry, Gyrfalcon. I'm sure the Mad King will have a daring, last-minute rescue by one of his loyal and competent Mad Henchmen.

"HTML not allowed in this forum" says the little message at the bottom of the post/reply window. Unfortunately, it looks like you really just want to post your story in a different forum, Lord Arawn. EZcodes do not allow you to change fonts or colors. Might I suggest the Conservatory? HTML is enabled there. Lady Celes, your suggestion of using |html| tags only works when HTML is enabled in the forum, unfortunately. From the EzCodes guide... "To Use HTML With Ezcodes Within a Post Ezcode {h2}Big text{/h2} This acts like the HTML tag: {h2}Big text{/h2} Note: HTML can only be used in this manner when the ezcode is enabled and the HTML is disabled. This ezcode will not work if HTML has been disabled by the forum." (Had to replace ''>' with '{' and '}' to display the code.) Edited by: Yui Temae at: 4/18/02 6:00:36 am

Excellent imagery, Arawn. I agree with Zoolio. One thing I would point out: It is my will, so let it be done You are my soldiers, you'll do as your told. 'you're', not 'your' Also, I realize it's poetry and so a little subjective, but there should be a semicolon between soldiers and you'll technically. Aren't I picky? Good job! Great poem!

*laughs* You would ask about the honeymoon, Lord. The marriage hasn't happened, quite yet, so you don't get any juicey details. (Not that you would anyway. ) We've got a couple more weeks to wait because of some paperwork, and then we'll get the legal marriage taken care of. The formal one (the big church wedding) won't be for a long while. Don't worry, though. We'll let you know. Now, I'd better talk 'business' before it slips out of my collander-like brain. Okay, I made all kinds of suggested changes (and some of my own that I noticed) to the story I posted. You guys brought up some magnificent points, and I'm grateful for the added perspectives! The Word document shows not only the changes but the original text in strikethrough formatting if you're interested. Of course, if you don't like the changes or notice anything else, feel free to let me know! I won't submit the story until the end of next week. Sincerely, ~Yui

Great! Thanks, Gyr. You're always a great person for meaningful feedback, and I completely agree with every one of your points. I'll try to make the changes later today, if I can find time. The biggest thing was definitely your comment about my reference to the First Demon War. Whoops! Yes, I'll definitely add a sentence or two explaining that there were many 'offensives', sometimes separated by a few years of peace. There were nine Demon Wars in total, spanning a few hundred years, actually. (After all, gods are immortal. It takes them a long time to get tired of a war!) I'll be sure to add in something that clarifies that, but I'm going to keep it rather vague on purpose. As you pointed out, there are many stories that could branch from this, and I don't want to turn this one into the novel! You have an interesting point about the demons, however I wasn't thinking of it in that sense. I'm rather a newbie when it comes to 'established' fantasy books, so I make things up as I go. In Terra and in many other planes, Tahkisis has minions, worshippers of many different races and skills. (Thinas the Darkelf, for example, is a follower of Tahkisis. Similarly, someone else we know is working a story about another one.) My thought wasn't that she used the Rifts to bring demons from some demon plane, but that her minions in the other planes created/commanded units of the creatures that she then brought through the Rifts. It's sort of along the same way that a Nether mage can summon up a thousand horned demons and then send them into battle. That's why the Rifts lead to other worlds instead of ravished demon worlds. They came through as 'units' with a commander instead of as just masses of demons. That said, there are some Rifts that link to terribly scarred realities (for example, where the demon troops of Tahkisis had nearly finished destroying the place). The real purpose of the idea of the 'Rifts' was so that players could feel free to bring in any kind of character they wanted instead of being limited to the typical fantasy races. Since there are infinite realities from which they could come, there are no limits on what they could be or do. Whew. Long explanation, sorry. I understand your concern, however I don't think that this story is the place to clarify it. Unless you have some specific suggestions of something (very short) that I could add to explain all this? To me, it's not crucial to this short story that one understand the precise nature of the forces that were ravishing the World, but instead that they just get a sense of how devastating they were being. Does that make sense? Oh, by the way... You read my mind. As I was writing all this, I was going through all the different spin-off stories that could follow from it. I think I probably will try to write the story of the refugees a bit further when I get time. I won't leave you hanging. Keep your eye on twoskies.net, and you might see it. You do already know the answer to one of your questions, though. Well, if you've been looking much around the existing stories in Twoskies, you do, anyway. The last Guardian is a character there, but I think that I'll just let you figure out the rest. As for this Final Fantasy character...? Sorry, but I had never heard of her before. Aegon was reading your comments with me last night, so he told me a little bit about her, but I can honestly say that I didn't know a thing about it when I came up with the idea of the Guardian Tribe. I do see your point, however. They are a little similar. Isn't it a small world? Thanks so much for your help, Gyr. I really appreciate it! I am in your debt.

The ghost of a smile whispered across her lips as the young woman rose to her feet, the firelight revealing the rips in her cloak and the old bloodstains on the once-white dress beneath. With slow, graceful motions, she made her way to the edge of the circle, resting her hand on a young boy's tussled hair. He stared up at her with an expression that would have broken her heart were it still whole, hope warring with desolation in eyes far too old for any child. In the silence of the circle, his whispered query reached every ear. "Is it real, Ianye? Can we go there and be safe?" As hard as she tried for a warm smile, it was sad at best as the young woman knelt down and caressed the child's cheek. "Oh, Mehz, I wish I could say for certain. We would go there in an instant, if only I knew the way." Gently, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "We shall both hope, alright? Perhaps we will find it if we believe enough." The lad's mousey curls bobbed as he nodded, a tiny smile gracing his face for the first time in the weeks of their flight from danger. Even when the circle had dissolved and the camp had fallen back into the silence of sleep, the young woman and the boy stood in the soft glow of the burning embers. Neither spoke, their eyes cast out into the night. Ianye searched the horizon behind them, her thoughts on a magnificent city and her last sight of it as it burned in the distance. Mehz searched the horizon ahead, his mind filled with images of a bounteous new World where they need not live in fear any more. Together they stayed, silently holding hands as they each dreamed their dreams. High in the midnight dome of the sky, the broken moon shone down on the refugee camp, watching as a song that was little more than the whisper of the wind and the rustling of grass reached through the darkness to the waiting ears of a young woman and an even younger boy… Edited by: Yui Temae at: 4/12/02 8:38:05 am

The crowd had fallen silent again before the young woman pulled herself from her reverie, and she raised her eyes to see them all watching her expectantly. Nodding, she slipped back into the legend, her voice ringing clear against the night sounds of the forest. "The First Demon War lasted ten years, a time in which the Dark Queen ripped hundreds of rifts in the fabric of the Universe, each to open the way for another of her dark minions to lead his legions into the land. Thus they came from every world in the infinite planes, pulled from other battles of conquest. Each time, the Guardians fought, and each time they won, though always at the cost of precious lives. In this way the battles continued through hundreds of years and nine distinct wars, each longer and more costly. Over those centuries, the Guardian Tribe learned and grew, earning their victories with might, strategy, and magic until the last of Takhisis' higher demons was slain or imprisoned. "Frustrated, the Dark Queen tired of her efforts, and the legions she sent into the World slowly dwindled until the Rifts were silent. Still, her anger would not let her leave those who dared to defy her. Her final warrior was a single spider, a tiny creature that she sent unnoticed to the FirstBorn of the Tribe. At the its bite, a curse was thrown into the life-energies that flowed in his body, one that spread to every kinsman he touched, corrupting the part of the World’s Soul that lay within. It was the worst and only poison to their kind, decaying all that they were from within. "Slowly, one by one, the pure-hearted saviors fell ill and died, legions that had stood strong against demons' fires doomed by a tiny arachnid's bite. Their Mother was grief-stricken and tried everything she could to save them, but the Evil Queen was crafty and had created a disease that the tiny planet could not touch for fear of corrupting her own Soul. She had no choice but to watch helplessly as her Guardians fell until only one newborn child was left alive, saved from the disease by the safety of the womb. She swept the last of the Guardian Tribe away in secrecy to raise as a mother, leaving the dark Queen to think that her revenge was complete. "Now, decades later, it is said that the World is a haven, a Mother to whom many refugees have escaped and with whom many have found sanctuary and peace." The young woman glanced at the crowd, seeing the hope shining in their eyes. "You see, each of the Rifts through which the demon legions came stands open still, a doorway to a different dimension , a different world - perhaps even to ours. 'Tis said that they call to those who need them, that the Rifts sing a siren's song for to all who seek safety. One has only to step across the threshold, and he will find a new home in her beautiful lands." There was a short, silent pause, and then the young woman raised her hand, sweeping an arm out to encompass the circle of people around her. In the tradition of the storytellers of her people, she quietly intoned, "So the story was told to me, and so do I tell it to you. From our ancestors to those who will come after us, let it never be forgotten." Edited by: Yui Temae at: 4/12/02 8:36:09 am

Pushing aside her grief, the storyteller raised her voice once more. "The prayers of lives extinguished finally reached the gods in their home outside of existence, and they looked down on the World of Two Skies for the first time with rage. The errant child had forgotten the gift that all life was, had defied the gods by the very fact that she harbored life not of their creation. The mistake they had made in her very creation was inconsequential in their pious deliberations, and so they determined to punish the World. "So did Takhisis, goddess of evil, rip a hole through space into the little planet’s reality, a passage from another world through which she sent her most devout dark priests and the horrifying demon legions they commanded. The nightmare creatures had only one order: to destroy everything in their path. Truly, they reveled in their duty. Alone and helpless, the childlike world was left to watch and weep as the demons blazed a destructive trail across her beautiful lands, slaying her creatures and burning her verdant forests and flowered plains to black ash. "For a time, self-pity paralyzed the World. It pained her to be punished by the very gods who had abandoned her – pained her, and then angered her. The rage was how she found a new determination within herself. If there was no one who could protect her against the gods, then the World of Two Skies determined to protect herself. "Thus, she reached deep within, pulling the swirling energies from her very core, the Soul of her power and sentience. This priceless treasure she mixed with the clay and mud, molding it into a form to mock the gods. In this way, she gave life to her own protector, a being created solely to defy the gods. He was magnificent, muscular and a full head taller than the tallest human, with golden skin and pale, green hair. One with the very Soul of the World, the land obeyed his command and the living creatures bowed to his will, allowing him to focus the World's might as she had never been able to herself. He was, more than any of her other Children, the World's flesh and blood, and he was the first of many. "For hours the World worked, giving a little piece of her Soul to every one of her new Children. When she was finished, the plain was teeming with tens of thousands of the green-haired warriors, both male and female, each filled with the knowledge and determination necessary to fight the gods’ legions. They became known as the Guardian Tribe, a race of peoples with the power of a planet and mastery of every rock and tree and stream upon its surface. They were the protectors of the World, and soon they moved together to stop the destruction of their Mother." With that, the fire popped, startling the assembly into gasps and muttering. The tension broken, the narrator took a few moments to breathe, trying desperately to recall her mind from the vivid imagery of the legend. It seemed that every telling of this story brought them closer, made them more realistic, and she wondered at times if they were products of her imagination or from somewhere else entirely. She often could not shake the feeling that the thoughts were not hers - were never hers - that the story had a kind of power over her. Yet she knew that was ridiculous. Edited by: Yui Temae at: 4/12/02 8:01:38 am

Pausing, the young woman picked up a long stick and stirred the blaze in front of her. Her eyes were distant as they reflected the sparks that blew upwards towards the stars, and she felt the air of expectance from those around her. With a sad little smile, she lowered her gaze and continued. "To be so alone is a terrible thing, to be forgotten even more so, but time flowed as it must, and a world has no voice to call out to the gods that create it and no tears to cry for its own misery. Instead, it must simply endure, existing only for itself and its creations. This was the fate of the little World, to stabilize and nurture life without the help of the gods, to live for her creations. So did this planet do what only the gods had in the past; she created life on her barren surfaces, coaxed plants to grow, animals to evolve, and land to spring up to support them all. This evolution continued until the World was teeming, verdant and lovely and pristine, perfectly balanced. … and there she stayed. "Time passed, years without number, marked only by the cycle of seasons for nothing else about the breathtaking beauty of the isolated planet ever changed. Every plant that loosed its grip on life was replaced. Each carcass left to rot upon the ground was swallowed by the dirt beneath it so as not to mar the unbroken innocence of the scene. You see, the little planet was given a gift by the very energies that had ripped her from her rightful place in reality. She became sentient, intelligent, a living entity with a will of her own and great, great pride in what she had made of herself. She became both artiste and canvas, obsessed with her own vanity. Beauty was all to her, above even the sanctity of life. Thus did she come to kill those flowers whose petals bloomed in a different colour, or those animals whose fur was written with spots or stripes unique from those of their kin. These things disturbed her balance, destroyed her carefully-laid plans for her own image, and they could not be tolerated." Again, the young woman paused, firelight glinting off the tears in her eyes as she drew a deep breath. Her soulful gaze danced the shadowy circle once more, meeting those of each of her listeners and drawing them deeper with their own remembered pain. Hope peered back at her from out of the old hurting, and she was torn between joy and despair. "So much lost…" The crackle of the fire concealed her whisper from all but the sharpest of ears, but all could see the tear that slipped unbidden down her smooth cheek.

Firelight flickered in the center of the circle, sending the darkness scurrying to hide in the cracks, hollows and crevices of the stone benches arranged on the perimeter. Gently, it caressed the ancient, blackened granite and the soft, young flesh of the creatures gathered in its glow, illuminating the cornucopia of features, the shadow-dulled rainbow of colors, and the handful of rapt expressions. The light slipped fingers lightly across the details of cloth and leather - across a nicked broad sword and a quiver of fragile arrows, a point-eared doll and a lady's golden wedding band - revealing so little of the details of line and form, yet so much of the spirits of those gathered. Both human and Other, the assembly waited quietly in the safety of the circle, all eyes on a young woman sitting statue-still on the ground. Slowly, very slowly, her lowered head raised, the firelight playing a teasing game with the inky-black fabric of her cloak. Red, then black, then orange, then red again – so the colors danced over her head and then over the pale skin of her face as she pushed back her cowl, letting it fall like a slain enemy to lie against her shoulders. Eyes the color of a silver-maple leaf regarded the audience for long moments, their natural warmth made all the more inviting by the influence of the fire's colors as tiny flecks of gold turned to sparks within their depths. The golden strands of her hair were similarly transformed until she became a creature of fire and shadow there in the center of their circle, an elemental as ephemeral as the fleeting night mists. They all sat, enraptured, as she drew breath to begin. “What you are about to hear is a legend that was told to me when I was a child." Her voice was soft, sweet dulcet tones that caressed the ear - coaxing one to listen, rather than demanding that one hear. "Its origins have long been lost to the passage of time, though there are many who would swear to its truth. I, myself, cannot say either way, so I leave judgement up to you… "At the dawn of time, when the universe was created, a mistake was made. The infinite dimensions met at a point they were never meant to, and a single, small planet was torn from her home in existence by the energies and flung into the nexus. There , on the boundary between planes, she spun alone and forgotten, caught half within a place of inky twilight, far from the nearest star, and half within the realm of a bright, warm Red Giant sun. One reality left the World with a black night sky full of twinkling lights, while the other provided her with a day sky as blue and bright as the clearest gem. Between the two writhed the beautiful and fragile boundary between realities, a slender ribbon of energy that sliced across her sky as she rotated, dividing day and night. Thus she came to be known as the World of Two Skies, and she was forgotten by the gods." Edited by: Yui Temae at: 5/20/02 8:15:54 am

Friends, In an uncharacteristic spurt of ambition, I've decided to try entering a work in a science fiction/fantasy art and writing publication. What I'm submitting is a spruced-up version of a story that I once posted on the UBB, a storyteller's legend that is the history of the World of Two Skies. I've been putting it together and editting it in bits and parts over the past few days. I'd really appreciate any comments or suggestions about the work that will help me refine it for the competition. Particularly, I want to make sure that the new revision flows smoothly and that the 'background story' comes through clearly enough without being too intrusive on the storyteller's tale. Feel free to be brutal and as precise as you like in your comments. I appreciate any help you'll all give me! Sincerely, @-/--- Yui-chan PS: For those who would prefer to read it from MSWord, please go here. Edited by: Yui Temae at: 5/20/02 8:15:20 am

Good job! ... Now look what you did. I'm hungry!

... the cake, which, strangely enough, emits a squeal of surprise as it explodes, showering everyone nearby with a creamy confection of calories! Before she can do more than suck in a breath, the table beneath her groans and gives with a loud crack, throwing more food and sparkly wyvern-shaped confetti over the crowd. When the dust has settled, food is everywhere, Canid lays amid a huge pile of cake-and-frosting mush, and Ozymandias is glowering from under the (luckily strong) glass dome of the punch bowl that's upturned on his head. Oh, yes. It's a Wyvern party in the making. Blinking and attempting to shake the sticky frosting from her fur (unsuccessfully), Canid wobbles on the wriggling surface of the remains of the second buffet table... then realizes that Buffet tables shouldn't wriggle. " GET OFFA ME, YA OVERGROWN FURBALL!" The screech is accompanied by a shove that sends the wolf slip-sliding across the floor to collide with Wyvern's pile of presents. The almost-dragon looks up in surprise as the stack he was working on tallying crumbles, mixing with the stack of ones already counted. "Argh! Now I'll have to start all over! Canid, what are-- !!!" At that moment, he chooses to raise his eyes from the sugar-coated mess of his friend, following the trail of fur-filled frosting to the hulking mass standing in the remains of his birthday cake. And his eyes round in horror. There, amidst a food-strewn crowd of guests, his worst nightmare is huffing and puffing in an attempt to raise her bulk from the ground. Poor, hapless Wyvern happens to raise his eyes just in time to get a painfully-clear view of his gargantuan office assistant with her back to him and her thong-revealed gluteous maximus in the air. Try as he might, the birthday-wyvern can't draw breath as she stands and turns around, immodestly picking cake fragments out of her black leather thong-bikini. Melba glowers, cursing Canid under her breath for ruining her surprise. If looks could kill... But then, she spots the bloodless form of her employer, and her pillowy face breaks into a huge smile. Oblivious of his obvious distress (or of the horrified shock of the other guests), the almost-secretary throws her arms wide and starts running (which can best be described as her normal waddle with a larger amplitude of fleshy vibrations being displayed in her massive girth) towards Wyvern. In horror, he faints dead away, leaving Melba to stand there, blinking down at him. Frowning, she mutters to herself, "He must've been overcome by emotion... " ((MUHAHAHAHAAAAA! >;} ))

And as soon as the Founder finishes his sentence, a mysterious figure in a black spandex suit covered in teflon body armor comes crashing through the window. He lands on the ground in a crouch, raising a fancy-looking, gadget-infested wristwatch to his mouth and shouting, "TARGET AT COORDINATES 23, 05, 17! GOGOGOGO!" Before any of the unsuspecting Pen people can do more than turn and blink (of course, Rydia was already blinking at the nice, shiny effect of the stranger's red infravision goggles), another ten armored commandos burst through the door and rush into the room, shouting like barbarians (or drunken Englishmen, there's very little difference). They swarm straight towards Vincent Silver, grab him, tie him up in a black sack, and spirit him back out to a waiting armored truck, all while the leader holds Crow, Nyyark, and Ozymandias in the sights of his fancy-looking high-tech weaponry. Rydia just smiles, entranced by all the shiny equipment and lazer sights. Just before he rushes out of the room, the leader looks right at Ozy and rumbles in a gravelly voice, "Mission complete, sir! We'll see to it that he's brainwashed into roleplaying conformity!" And with a sharp salute to the Founder, the mysterious man turns and disappears back out the window, leaving Ozymandias facing an incredulous Nyyark, a ruffled Crow, and a sorely disappointed Rydia. "Heheh... <:} ... well, he won't get a hard time once he's programmed to roleplay, right??" Rydia just pouts at him and mutters, "Such tragic loss of a shiny Initiate." ((Heheheheh... ))

Yui-Temae: This time, the night of soul-wrenching dreams had left Yui drawn and exhausted when the morning dawned. From her cocoon in the soft furs of the palette bed, she watched grey nighttime turn into blood-red morning, her thoughts whirling. Try as she might, she couldn't recall last night's horrors, yet her whole being felt chilled and muffled, as though she were slowly suffocating in her dangerous dreams. It frightened her, all the more so because she could not remember what had brought her to this point, nor what caused her anguish. She knew only that the old man had cared for her, continued to care for her with a heart that was pure goodness and a strange ability to frighten away the shadows in her mind. While her thoughts turned to him, she watched the silent old man stoking the fire in the pit in the corner and wondered idly how he could appear so calm and well-rested. Throughout the long night, he had watched over her, she was certain, for whenever she'd cried out or opened her eyes to the moonlit hut, he had been there, his warm eyes and gentle hands easing her pain. She only wished she could remember what caused it… " Ozyiisama*," The huntress' quiet voice carried easily across the small space, and the elder turned to regard her with questioning eyes. "I have so many questions. I know I am … unwell, but … I cannot remember what happened to bring me here. Will you sit with me? Can you try to help me understand?" Those young eyes in the old face darkened sadly, though he left the porridge to warm over the fire and ambled over to sit on a corner of the palette. Yui could see that the smile was gone from his face, yet he looked at her and gently nodded, gesturing for her to continue. She smiled weakly, feeling relief at the mere possibility of finding answers, and then spoke softly. "Thank you, grandfather. I owe you so much already." The warm smile slipped back onto his face as he shook his head and patted her hand as if to say that there was no debt, only kindness. The Huntress' smile widened in return for a moment before she sobered with thoughts of her situation. "You showed me the mountain, yesterday, and I know that I have been there. You showed me, too, the ruins at the peak, and I think that perhaps I have been there as well, but … not exactly. I think… I think there should be a castle there." An image of the imposing stone walls lit by a jagged streak of lightning flashed past her mind's eye, and Yui shuddered. "… Hai. I have been to a castle there." Frowning, she looked to the old man questioningly, and he nodded, his eyes grave. Her frown only deepened. "How is that possible? It is a ruin. You showed it to me." The old man could only watch her in silence with his soul-deep eyes, willing her to put it all together. The young woman frowned and looked out the window at the blossoming morning, her unfocused eyes falling on the strong limbs of the cottonwood. "Aegon was in danger, I remember. I rode in secret so that he would not be killed, for those who had taken him claimed to want ransom," she mused, her frown deepening, "though I knew that, for whatever reason, they also wanted me." Pleased, the old man nodded solemnly, recalling her gaze to the narrow hut. "You know of them? You know of whoever had… has Aegon?" Again, he nodded, and Yui sat up straighter. " Ozyiisama, do you know where Aegon is? Did you bring me here to keep me from whoever has him?" The old man frowned at her exuberance, and she could see the thoughtfulness in his eyes as he considered how to answer. More calmly, she repeated, "Please… do you know where Aegon is?" After long moments, the old man shook his head back and forth, a regretful, but emphatic 'no'. Yui wilted back against the furs like a plucked flower, a measure of the hope that had sprung into her eyes dying. Her voice was weaker as she continued. "Did you bring me here to protect me from those who took him?" This time, the old man nodded, his eyes going very warm as he stroked her hair back from her forehead in a fatherly gesture. "Are they the ones who have done this to me, the nightmares, the strange marks?" Again, he nodded, a mixture of sadness and anger entering the blue gaze. Yui shuddered slightly. The old man had her answers, but she couldn't help but feel that she almost didn't want to know what they were. A chill of foreboding warned her that the worst was yet to come, yet she knew she had to face it, for herself and for her beloved. " Ozyiisama, can you t--- AIEEE!" Yui screamed as pain suddenly sliced across her back, burning a convoluted path as if someone were carving fire along her skin. With the hurt came darkness, a nightmare shadow that covered first her eyes, then her will, then her consciousness. Within seconds, the young magess lay still against the furs, reclaimed by the nightmares. Chronos scowled beneath his great, white beard as he bent forward to place his hands upon the Dream's brow. The pull of the Dark Dream was as strong as it had ever been, and the ancient wizard knew that the woman was now fighting the final battle for her own soul. Timeless, he knew, too, the thousand possible outcomes of the battle and the million possible results of those outcomes. He knew, at the same moment, the dozen possible roles he would play. He chose one. ******* The storm whispered to the Master, telling tales of a lone rider protected by magic, of a fleet-footed race up the steep mountain slopes. The Master was displeased, the eyes, invisible under the hood, narrowing angrily. He bellowed for his Slave, the gravelly cry echoing throughout the great, stone keep. He is here too soon. I am still Unreal and Unfinished. Outwardly calm, the black-robed figure retrieved his razor, bending carefully over creamy skin. Still, his dark mind raced even as his lips began once again chanting the words of the Binding. There can be no more gentleness, no more game. "One. We are One." The razor began its path across his unconscious victim's back once again, leaving behind a trail of fire-red blood as she jerked in pain. When he arrives, I will be ready. Joined with the Weaver's Dream, I will finally be wholly Real. Joined with the Dreamer's Dream, I will become a Dreamer! The laughter that bubbles forth from the Master's twisted throat fills the chamber even as the young woman laying on the platform before him struggles against his work. After but a moment, his black eyes narrow in concentration even as his hand carries the razor over the smooth planes of her back. Within the battlefield of her dreams, the clash of wills resumes… * Japanese for 'grandfather', also a respectful term of address for an elderly man in general.

When you have one of those days where you're flung from the heights and land on the hard ground, hurting When you have one of those days when you're hit in your least guarded moment and find yourself questioning your convictions When you have one of those days have faith in yourself and your hopes and cling all the harder to who you are Today may be one of those days, but it can't go on forever. Chin up. It will end.

Meanwhile, elsewhere... The patrons in the library had quickly learned to give the strange, winged woman a wide berth. After all, the poor old dwarf that she'd bowled over on her way back to the table was still sitting in a corner, grumbling and shooting dagger-sharp glares at her blue-clothed back. It didn't help the young woman's reputation when the main librarian had apologetically brought him a bladder of magic-cooled water to cover the multiple book-spine-shaped lumps on his bald head and he'd yelped in pain at its touch. Needless to say, everyone was careful to stay out of her path after that. Oblivious to the attention she'd generated (after all, she'd apologized to the dwarf... or at least, she was pretty sure she had. Not that it was important, in the face of this critical clue she held in her hands, mind!), Kaleyra sat hunched over an ancient tome at a table in the corner, surrounded by half-rolled scrolls and stacks of reference books. Her wire-rimmed spectacles glinted in the torchlight as she scanned the ancient Sunatran text. At the same time, the quill held in her right hand scribbled across the page of a smaller, worn-leather journal... Entry 325 280th day of the Caréne Solar Cycle Third Quarter of the 3051st Orbit Since History Began This fascinating crystal 'key' that the human monk provided for our use is proving quite the conundrum. I've found vague references to the "Vishari Veil," a crystalline statuette that is purported to "point the way to true Reflection." There are no physical descriptions beyond 'crystalline' to be found in the texts here in Erindale, however a review of my notes from the Avian scholars' research provides more detail. From Ashitar, Aerie Scholar First Magnitude, comes a rough translation of a scroll portion recovered at the supposed site of an unidentified city of the ancient races. "... Veil will guide the worthy... lifts the pure souls on knoble wings... moon lights the true heart... the voice raised in song..." The translation is admitted to be rough, and quite inarguably, it is vague, however I feel that the evidence is sufficient to continue my studies operating on the assumption that this crystal is, indeed, the artifact known as the Vishari Veil. It is an amazing windfall that the monk deigned to reward us with it, as surely we'd have been stymied with the loss of the Monk Jakob and the artifacts and information he possessed. (Sidenote: I am sorely disappointed in that loss. I am inutterably curious as to what items of significance he may have possessed.) The Avian continued to scan and write at the same time, oblivious to the passing of time until she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Startled out of her studies, she jumped and spun around, her hand still wrapped around her newly-inked quill. The librarian shrieked in surprise as flecks of india ink splattered across her face, and Kaleyra blushed, pulling an already-ink-stained rag from under a book. As she wiped the poor woman's face, she apologized profusely, hoping that the human's glare didn't bode quite as ill as it seemed to. At length, the woman sighed and brushed the scholar's hands aside. "All right, all right. The ink won't be comin' out any better until I've had me proper washing. Don't ya be worryin' about it any more, miss." Still mortified, Kal could do nothing but bow her head slightly and blush as the librarian continued. "Now, look. It's near on midnight, an' I was about to be headin' home. If ya come back in the morning, I'll be here at -- " "What?" Her eyes wide, the Avian looked at the woman with something akin to horror. "You want me to go? Oh, no, please. My research cannot possibly wait! Won't you please let me stay? Lock the doors, if you wish, for I'm quite certain that my endeavours here will last until midmorning at the least." "Now, miss..." Though the old woman frowned, the look in Kaleyra's fair face made her pause in her refusal. The decision was made when something very important occured to her. If she let the winged woman stay the night, then certainly she'd not be around much during the day to endanger or disturb the other patrons. As clumsy and strange as this scholar was, it was undoubtedly the best course. "... if ya'll be sure to leave the doors locked, then I suppose it can't do much harm." The smile that greeted her words was radiant, and the poor woman found her hand clutched between the Avians' as it was pumped up and down with bone-shaking speed. "Oh, magnificent! I'm ebullient! There's so much more work to be done, and you can't imagine how immeasurably fascinating the discoveries are. Why, I was just reading about how--" "Yes, yes, yes, dear," the older woman interrupted impatiently, carefully extricating her hand. "Just try not to break anything and don't open them doors fer anyone. Aye?" "Um... certainly." Embarassed by her exuberance, the Avian just nodded and watched silently as the woman walked away to lock up and leave. Sitting back down, she muttered "Stupid..." and then turned her eyes back to her book. In seconds, she was lost once again, her quill flying across the pages as the night deepened around her.

Thank you, Falcon. I'm afraid my poetry muse is the most flighty of them all, so I have dry spells rather often. I do have some older works (most from I think before you were an active Member) on the board, but not that many. The days when I had lots of time to write have passed, unfortunately. I am glad that you like the work, though. Coming from someone of your talent, it's quite a compliment!

As Gyrfalcon and Timothy conversed, Kaleyra examined the mysterious crystal, her eyes alight with curiosity. The surface, the interesting shape, the flawless gemstone of its construction, she began carefully examining them and making a list in her mind of what she needed to investigate. Consequently, she wasn't listening to a word the men said, nor did she realize that the Dreamer had gone. Instead, she fished in her pack for her spectacles, slipped them on her face, and simply started to walk away, her head bowed over the treasure in her hands as she muttered quietly to herself. By the time either of her remaining two companions turned to look for her, the Avian was a blue-and-brown speck in the sky, flying quickly towards the library at Erindale and unaware that the plans for meeting had changed.

Sunlight streamed through the windows into the Great Hall, glancing off gold and silver portrait frames and illuminating the painted faces adorning the wall. Jewelled garments, rich silks, and soft furs became so clearly defined that it seemed as if one could reach out to the textured canvas and feel, instead, the realities of the great Archmagi of the past. But the men and women envisioned in the many portraits were from Ages long ago consumed, Terras foreign to the world of today. The portraits were the past, save for one... Yui hurried through the grand space, her gaze fixed on the one painting that was unique among all the others. The once-Elder with the rubber chicken stood as he always did, his leather suit and goofy grin painted in painstaking detail, the slight, kooky madness sparkling in his pigment eyes. Behind him, the ruins of a Terran fortress loomed, an ominous contrast to the lighthearted nature of the Ancient of Elders. It seemed as if he was unaware, gone still as he sometimes did when he stopped paying attention to the world beyond his canvas. As the Huntress halted before him, however, a hint of motion betrayed his ruse. Her eyes narrowed slightly as a drop of acrylic sweat on his brow slowly dripped down to dangle from the tip of his pointed nose. "Ancient Zool." He tried to stay portrait-still, steady under the sharp edge of her grey-green eyes, but he felt himself weakening. "Zool-sama, I know you are aware, and I know you hear me. Come, what are you nervous about? Talk to me." With a whoosh of released breath, his resolve crumbled, and the living painting's shoulders slumped. "Alright, alright. But I didn't do it!" he burst out. Yui-chan raised a brow, watching the overly-nervous Ancient. "As much as you like a good laugh, you're not much of a prankster, Zool. I believe you didn't. However, I also believe that your painting has something to do with this..." As he watched, her eyes left his face to fix on something in the painting behind him. "... since it looks as if Gyrfalcon's amulet has been painted into the background." The Elder jumped and turned around, straining to see that 'mysterious gleam' he'd noticed before at the base of one of the Fortress's broken walls. Surely enough, there it was, laying as if dropped on the rubble. He swallowed a lump and turned back to the young woman standing outside of the painting, but as he opened his mouth to defend himself, her attention was attracted by something out of his line of sight. The Ancient froze again as he heard booted feet approaching. "Good day, Master Elledan. What can I do for you?" she asked. The Zool's eyes widened as he watched the Peredhil's son step into view, a large jar in his hands marked 'Paint Thinner'. At the look on the younger half-elf's face, sweat started dripping from his two-dimensional chin.

The Huntress nods to Celes, her eyes thoughtful. Yes, it was a very plausible explanation, indeed, for in every other room, the thief had been very careful not to displace items. He, she or it must have something of a temper to react so strongly to a few cat scratches. She smiles gently, looking at the feline huddled into Lady Celes' arms. "Pretty Carbone may well have saved herself from a stint with our mysterious thief," she says, raising her hand slowly so as not to alarm the lovely creature as she strokes her gently. The cat sits tensely for a moment, but then relaxes a bit under Yui's gentle hand, earning a brighter smile from both of the ladies. Celes looks at Yui, her smile dying quickly. "Do you think will the thief hurts my Cambronne?" The Huntress meets her eyes, moving her hand to rest on the Frenchie's shoulder. "We will do our best to see to it that your Cambronne is not harmed, Celes. I do not think that our thief is out to harm what her or she has taken... " Her eyes go distant, thoughtful again, and she mumbles an ending to her words, her thoughts leaping ahead. "No, it seems our thief isn't that simple..." A frown slowly erases her smile as she considers the situation. The thief knew of each of their most valued possessions and obviously knew the compound well. Very few creatures could escape a magic-imbued Huntress, yet she'd found no signs of tracks or magical residues anywhere on the grounds. Even the trees spoke of nothing more than the usual birds and a hawk spiraling high overhead. No, two clues had been found outside, she knew, but otherwise it seemed as though the thief had not been here, had not tried to escape -- With a start, Yui froze, then her eyes went wide. Of course! She gave Celes' and Carbone a parting glance, then turned and rushed back into the main Hall, leaving the lady and her little cat to blink at each other in puzzlement.