The Day of Reckoning (part 5)

Of course things don't always unravel in a nice orderly fashion, so that it can be easily determined that event A led to event E, via B, C and D. That would be too simple; giving historians and archaeologists an easy ride.

So while the elf Sidrick the Innocent had met in assumed secrecy with Sir Thomlin Argon Hammersmith, a mighty dwarf not known for his diplomacy (although he was quite good at it nevertheless), other matters unfolded. Those happenings would remain disjointed and largely unreported until enough pieces of these puzzling times could be pieced together to make a whole lot of trouble.

For the moment- in no particular order- but all at around the same time the following things occurred...

A dwarf by the name of Robert Strong Axe had his drink knocked over in a pub by a human and didn't feel the need to spill blood.

Lucy, a young human girl, put the finishing touches on a song she had been composing for the past week. It was about her love for the boy of her dreams who happened to live in the next village over. Called My Love He Has Silver Hair and Rides a Pig to Market on Tuesday's and Friday's, it certainly did not have a catchy title but it was a song that would later become the unifying battle cry of the combined forces of the dwarves, humans and a few returning battle elves.

Sheep on the hillsides overlooking all the major towns and small villages stopped moving and became like stone, never to move again or utter a sound.

The self-styled Three Horsemen of the Abomination rode into the town of Sacrifice and began their annual five-day rampage. History would later record they only got as far as day three before abruptly suspending their 'entertainments.' Although the reasons why would only become fully clear with hindsight.

While passing the time of day in a restful after-lunch slumber, an engineer called Billy dreamt of the Chaos Machine, a device he would later construct, that might just save the world in the coming bloody battles.


Right now though we return to our (for want of a better word) girl, sat by the river pondering the rather odd meeting she had just spied. She had come to the conclusion she would not do herself any good remaining out in the open much longer. And certainly there were no further clues to what had transpired moments earlier. It was time to move on. Just give it a minute longer she told herself, to make sure the departing creatures wouldn't detect her.

The more-than-human girl stood and stretched her long limbs. As has already been described she wasn't much to look at and in fact if she concentrated really hard you would barely notice her. Rhia closed her eyes a moment and began to fade, melt into the background. Oh sure if you looked hard, knew who you were looking for and exactly where to look, she was still clearly visible but to the casual eye the veil would mask her progress across the landscape. It was a long walk back to camp even taking the shortest but least secure routes. Mind you Rhia wasn't troubled by such matters and throwing her satchel full of Impossible Things over her shoulder started to make her way.

The girl covered the open ground remarkably quickly without breaking into run. Time sometimes could move differently around Rhia. The landscape slid by, as did the villages and smaller towns. She stayed away from the larger towns where others of her kind were more likely to gather, better to remain undetected. Finally she spotted the standing stones, ancient and crumbling, up on the hill that indicated where the camp could be found, just another mile beyond. As she passed the stones Rhia felt the familiar shiver of ancient power humming from deep within the ground and through the rock pillars. As always at this point when returning to her adopted home, she let time catch up and she would walk leisurely back; enjoying her surrounds, with not a care in her world. And besides she didn't want the others in the camp to know everything she could do.

As she walked into the camp, Rhia noticed it was looking oddly more organised than usual. The main square deserted of normal traders' stalls and the hustle of day to day life. The cattle were in their pens, regarding her silently. The horses too were tethered, the carts arranged and loaded. As she turned the corner from the square, she realised the whole population of the camp seemed to be gathered outside the Mayor's tented home at the end of the main street. More than that, without exception every woman and man was stood to attention facing her, all dressed in battle armour and carrying a sword or other weapon. She felt hundreds of eyes watching her as she approached...

But what will she say and to whom? Will she act for the forces of right and good or for the coming darkness? What exactly is in her satchel? All may well be determined in the coming chapters...

(to Wunderlust)

Brief Note

Just a quick one.... let's run the current story into April, see if we can bring things to some kind of conclusion or at least natural pause before a new story starts in May.

The Day of Reckoning (part 4)

What had she seen?

A dwarf and what must have been an elf, if the descriptions from folk tales were to be believed, meeting with each other. What could these two possibly be doing, talking rather than trying to bludgeon each other to death. And not only were they talking with each other, but it seemed that they had exchanged things, information of some sort.

What was going on?

Something was definitely going on for a dwarf and an elf to be meeting together, something serious, something possibly even perilous, something that the local humans weren't aware of, not the farmers, not the merchants, not the rulers and not even the wise.

She wished she had been able read the scroll, or understand more of the discussion, for then she might have had some ideas about what to do next, but for the moment, all she had was questions.

(Pass to Ceramix)

The Day of Reckoning (part 3)

Immediately Sidrick looked around, trying to see who might be watching them. Usually, elves have exceptional sight, but for some reason Sidrick felt as if there was a veil keeping him from seeing who was there. Of course Thom was having trouble seeing, dwarfs not being known for their sight as much as for their hearing.

"What do you hear?" Sidrick asked Thom.

Thom, head cocked answered, "I'm not sure, but for a moment..." "For a moment what?" Sidrick encouraged, waiting for Thom to decide what he'd heard. "For a moment, it sounded like the tinkling of glass, but that can't be. It must have been the wind in the trees. Do you see anything?"

Sidrick looked around again and said, "Nothing, I see nothing. But I think we should leave."

So the two allies left, each going their own way back to their own world. Each a little spooked by the ending to their meeting and hoping they really had imagined something that wasn't there.

Of course that was not to be. There had been someone watching, listening, trying to learn what they knew. After she was sure the dwarf and elf were safely gone from the river she emerged and wandered around, trying to sense everything that had happened. Looking at her you wouldn't think much at all. She looked like most any of the humans that had entered their world. She wasn't especially beautiful in the way that humans measured beauty. But she wasn't like the other humans, she could do things and see things that they couldn't do or see. She knew that the elf would see her if she hadn't placed the veil. The sound got away from her, she would have to be more careful if the opportunity came again.

For now, she sat and looked back and listened and wondered at what she saw.

(Pass to Somarledi.)

The Day of Reckoning (part 2)

You see elves are clever creatures. They could see what was coming and made plans to protect themselves. Elves were big on plans.

They had moved on to who knew where before the dark times had come. But they had not been reckless, they had left a guardian behind. Someone who officially was there just to keep an eye on things and look after their interests but in reality his role was a whole lot more. He was there to build bridges between peoples where (officially at least) none could exist. Sidrick the Innocent as he was known, would meet regularly with the dwarf known as Thom and plot and plan. There was trouble brewing and armies to build, they both knew and while both would normally trade insults, happily spill each other's blood or steal anything the other held to be precious, they both believed they had a common foe. A foe they could not name.

Sidrick the Innocent sat beside a river and regarded the dwarf for a moment. The sun was overhead, at it's peak but the history books would probably recount the time as being a quarter past four. Thom was- as always- wearing his best battle armour complete with family crest on his helmet, all highly polished. You had to hand it to Thom the guardian had thought, he was certainly brave but also pretty stupid. Why attend a semi-secretive meeting with a long standing enemy (and face it, they both had many of those) and advertise exactly who you were?

Sidrick waited while Sir Thomlin read the small scroll he had been passed. He watched as the dwarf's mouth silently formed each word. "Use this wisely," Sidrick told him. "I had to call in many favours to get you this." The dwarf finished reading and thought for a moment or two and then waited some more for what he considered to be dramatic effect. Dwarf's are not known for being big thinkers. Their world largely revolved around mining and fighting, interrupted by drunken songs about fighting and mining. Planning and cunning was not something that came naturally to most dwarfs. Thom however, was not most dwarfs.

"If this is to be believed," and dwarfs didn't tend to believe in much except gold. "This means we have less time than we had thought." He passed a small bag of coins over. Everything in their world had a price to pay, even information between allies. That particular bag had passed between them many times since their meetings had begun but never once opened and counted. It was their symbol of trust.

"Shush, " the dwarf had suddenly hissed. Thom, with his exceptional hearing, had realised they were being watched...

(To Teresa B)

The Day of Reckoning (part 1)

I was only four when the troubles began, so I can't rightly (or wrongly, for that matter), say who struck the first blow.

I do know, though, that it was a bloody battle, and a fierce one at that, and no one can honestly say who was at fault, or who even ended it, if truth be told. Just that it was a long battle in an even longer war, and neither side came out particularly victorious from either the battle or the war.

Thom was there, I do know that. Or perhaps I should give him his full title? Sir Thomlin Argon Hammersmith, all four foot three inches of him at full stretch, and almost as much again around, was known the world over more by reputation than renown, and rarely was any of it good.

He was typical of his people though, and generally fairly gruff with anyone over five feet tall - "no need for such excessive height" - was something of a catch-phrase with him. But then, what more could you expect from one such as him?

A dwarf is not such a common thing these days, but in the time of Thom, and indeed, this story, dwarves were still to be seen round and about. They had yet to vanish into their dark tunnels and caves, but that time would approach soon enough, with the day of reckoning.

The elves had felt it coming long before anyone else, and had all but disappeared from this once wondrous planet, only to be replaced by things best left hidden in the darkness. Evil things, Shadow things. But more was to come. That was certain.

(now to Ceramix to continue)

New Story starting today

As promised, we have a new story starting today. That doesn't mean we are forgetting about February's story. We will come back to that at a later date.

I'm hoping that my beginning of March's story leads to a nice fantasy story set on a mythical world, but maybe that's just wishful thinking. It's not totally up to me how the story pans out afterall. And again, I don't see this one being short either!

Anyway, enjoy the ride!

The Passing of Crows (part 6)

There is a universal truth throughout the cosmos: that Wednesdays are known as Hump Days. That day midweek that heralds the run towards the end of the work week and the start of the weekend. This Wednesday was no different.

But we are getting ahead of ourselves, there's still Tuesday to get through. The man Michael had visited the pub and spoken with the Land Lady to see if Holly had somehow wandered there and yes whilst there he drank a pint of warm Best bitter ("Well since I'm here anyway, I might as well.") Of course the dog could not be found. He had eventually drifted away to whatever he did normally, taking his hat with him. Sam and Sparky had gone for their coffee and breakfast before parting: each to their respective places of work. Eventually the day had passed into night without further event. The Something in the shed in the front garden remained silent and watched and waited.

In the dark of the kitchen in Sparky's little house, the flap in the door that allowed the cat to come and go could be heard slamming shut. Alice had wandered into the garden as she often did in the night, sometimes to chase rodents but not today. Today- this Wednesday- would be different. Alice had an appointment. With whom she did not know. How she had this appointment, she did not know. She just knew.

You see Alice the cat was in fact a Crow, a creature from another realm where laws of physics had an altogether different meaning. This particular fantastical being was squeezed into the tiny body of this rather skinny cat with white and ginger hair. Not quite stuck with three dimensional living and a linear timeline but very nearly. Having to master walking, with only four legs, had been tricky at first but Alice had got there in the end. Restricting herself to 'meow' had also been an issue when her Human although clearly brighter than many just couldn't work out what she wanted. And just to complicate matters, a Crow had no way of knowing what form a fellow Crow might take in this world. It was random, pot luck you could say.

Alice trotted through the darkened streets- pathways she knew well from her night time activities- but now with new purpose. She had sensed the call of another Crow and somehow knew the when and the where of the situation. The odd street lamp bathed the area in an orange glow and once in a while a car would pass, headlights pointing the way.

The cat Alice was stood in the garden of the friend of her Human, who sometimes came round. There was a thing wedged in the lawn, faintly glowing and perhaps making a barely audible sigh. This was not the place where the other Crow would be found, Alice was sure but this thing intrigued her. She moved forward to sniff the structure. No smell that she could make out. However there was definately a presence, Alice could tell, not of this world for sure. It was almost...

Alice the cat was nowhere to be seen. Gone from the garden and as she would later find out, trapped inside the canister with the Something...

*** We leave this 'exciting' tale now in favour of a new story which will kick off 1 March. However fear not we may well return to see exactly what fate has befallen Alice the cat, stuck in the shed with the Something and to find out why the man Michael cannot see his own dog ***

The Passing of Crows (part 5)

Holly wondered what all the fuss was about. Why hadn't her master, Michael, seen her as she romped about his feet? Had he not heard her barking in answer to his panicky calls? Could he not feel her slither between his legs in an attempt to trip him up? All the way from the attic to the kitchen and then out to the garden, she had followed him, faithfully, and yet he seemed not to be aware of her presence.

That THING in the garden was aware of her though. She could sense it. And it frightened her.

(now back to Ceramix...)

The Passing of Crows (part 4)

The man Michael finished his shaving and brushing his teeth. He climbed the stairs back to his little attic room and was getting dressed in his going to the pub clothes when he realized Holly wasn't laying in the little alcove where the sun peeped in this time of the morning. Not yet alarmed, but curious, the man Michael, went laboriously down the two flights of stairs to the kitchen, thinking perhaps Holly had gotten hungry or thirsty and had hunted up her bowls.

But still no Holly. Michael looked around the entire downstairs, even called Holly's name, but no Holly. Concern turned to alarm, and at that moment, standing in the kitchen he looked out the window above the sink and saw the funny, broken garden shed still laying on it's side. Thinking the worst, the man Michael went out and started looking all around the garden shed, hoping against hope that Holly hadn't wandered out during the storm and been crushed by the shed like the Wicked Witch of the West.

Inside the garden shed, the Something watched and listened to the man Michael calling Holly's name. The Something knew that the call was full of alarm, almost panic. And the Something felt the love that was behind the panic and marveled that such a creature as a man could have such deep feelings. The Something wondered if all these creatures felt such deep emotions, and what those emotions would make them do. But still the Something knew there was nothing that could be done for Holly, at least not by the man Michael.

By now the man Michael's panic was full blown and he knew something was not right. He also knew that what appeared to be a garden shed contained something more, something not quite right. To scared to do anything, the man Michael retreated to the house, picked up his hat and find his way to the pub, even though it was only a Tuesday.

(now to wunderlust)

The Passing of Crows (part 3)

Deep inside the bowels of the thing that only looked like a broken garden shed, something stirred. The Something regarded its new surrounds and learned. It learned for example, that some internal clock calculated it had been in existence for 9 hours and 36 minutes but had no idea what that meant. It learned that without too much effort it could not only hear what was around it outside but also could see exactly what was going on in great detail. Above there appeared to be a two-legged thing that was knocking on the canister as if trying to communicate in some primitive manner.

The Something considered this for a while and decided this did not count as a direct threat. To one side there was another two-legged creature, very similar to the first on initial inspection, except it did not appear to be in any way covered in what the Something instinctively knew were feathers. And this second one was known as a female, making the first a male? The Something considered this for a moment but concluded the concept was somewhat abstract from its' own point of view and therefore unimportant. But the second one- the female- interested the Something, it was different to the first and also the small group of other two-legged things that had gathered. There was an energy around this one; probably the other creatures could not detect it but the Something could. The energy waned and pulsed like perhaps an distress beacon might. Or a warning.

The things appeared to be communicating with each other. The female had made some form of greeting and then asked what the first was doing. The one above jumped lightly down from its perch and replied "It's not mine, it came down in the storm. I just can't seem to find a way in." This didn't surprise the Something at all: the canister was only meant to be opened when the time was right and from the inside. One of the crowd had then made a comment that had produced a ripple of laughter from the gathered number but this meant nothing to the Something. It had learned about humour in the same way it had gathered all its facts and knowledge. It understood the concept but had no need or use for humour.

Had the Something been like the creatures outside, it knew it would probably have needed to stand and stretch its limbs by now. But it wasn't like them and sitting in one corner of the canister was no different to standing or walking. These things it knew it could do but currently found no necessity for action. It observed that the crowd had started to disperse from around it; obviously the lack developments had not proved that much of a diversion and these creatures were wandering away to resume their lives. Only the male and female remained.

The interesting one looked towards the sky and the dark clouds parted, all the time the Something could see the energy field pulsed just a little brighter. The heat from the nearby sun could now be felt warming the ground and air. "Come on Sam, let's leave it for now, I'll buy you breakfast. I'm not due at work until midday." It heard the not-Sam say.

And they had walked away, each on their strange little flesh covered two-legs, leaving the Something alone in the front garden of the house where Sam lived. Where the man known as Michael could be found with the spaniel called Holly. As the Something looked harder it could see the man going about his business, getting shaved and dressed ready to go out but Holly was not to be found in the house or the garden beyond. Could it be the dog had somehow received warning and had fled in the night?

(Now to TeresaB to continue)

The Passing of Crows (part 2)

It was a cold morning, but then you get that, after a storm. Especially a big one. And Monday storms were known the world over for being voracious little buggers for intensity. Sam didn't mind too much that Holly was missing. After all, it hadn't been his idea for this man Michael and his dog to move in. He'd just appeared one day, with cap in one hand, suitcase in the other, pushing his way up the hall, and had taken up residence in the attic. No sign of any rent, mind. That, seemingly, was spent down the pub each Saturday. But never mind, at least he kept the garden in order. Sam wasn't known for his gardening skills.

What interested Sam this particular morning, though, was not the missing status of the spaniel, nor whether the New King might well be responsible for the inclement weather they'd been having of late. What interested him was the garden shed. It was an odd little shed, even when viewed from a sideways angle. It had a little dormer window, for one, right above the door. A strange thing to find in a garden shed. What was stranger still was the eerie music eminating from inside. That and the odd, *almost* laughter. A kind of half-cackle that just seemed to drone on and on.

Sam half-hopped, half-walked around the shed a full three times, before alighting gently on its one free (if rather battered) side. He pecked lightly on the rough metal of the shed, and then stood, head slightly cocked, listening for a reply. None came.

Sparky arrived soon after this. She looked at Sam, perched up there on the shed, and started to laugh. He just looked so ODD! She'd known him a good long while now, and yet he still had the ability to surprise her. As she watched him, first intently pecking at the ruined metal of the garden shed, and then stopping to listen for any answering sounds, she wondered whether she should tell him that she might well have had a hand in this storm. Not all of it, exactly, but at least SOME of it.

Some of it was caused by the New Monarch, who, in a bit of a huff over not being allowed to play with the garden hose, defied his mother, the Old Monarch, and used his powers of influence to make it rain - LOTS. His mother had always told him that his powers were to be used for the good of the people, not for his own selfish uses. But he was only four, and very new at being King. So it was understandable that he'd have a temper tantrum occasionally.

That said, Sparky also felt she had a hand in the Monday storm. She'd only wanted a bit of a breeze to dry her washing quicker, as she'd forgotten (as usual) to put her work blouse in the laundry on Saturday, so she'd had to wear a less-than-clean one to work on Monday, and she'd not smelt the best (and people had noticed). Thing is, Sparky hadn't been the healthiest of late, and she knew that head colds played havoc with her powers. They were hard to control at the best of times, but add a head cold or an out-and-out 'flu bout to the mix, and you were asking for trouble. So perhaps SOME of the storm (the wind part, anyway) might have been her doing.

But as she stood there, just a slip of a girl, staring at her friend Sam, still perched up on top of the garden shed, stopping now and then to preen an errant wing feather here and there, she started to become aware of a rather awful feeling seeping from that shed. A kind of dread, icy shiver that ran up and down her spine, and left her tingling with what exactly, she wasn't sure. But she knew it wasn't good.

(now back to Ceramix....)

The Passing of Crows (part 1)

There was this girl you see. She lived not so long ago and in a place not so far away, although to our eyes she may well have lived on another world, hers was a different and somewhat fantastical life. But to her it was an ordinary one; she knew no different after all.

Her personal experience was of an existence where the incredible wasn't quite as impossible as perhaps it should have been. Things happened around her and because of her. Some might have thought she had magical powers but that would have been too simplistic. Sparky for that was the name she was known by, although not the one Mother gave her, could influence things. Just a little. Cause people and events to take a slightly different path to the one predetermined. This was not a curse or even a special power she was aware of, it was just how things were with Sparky. As a very young girl she had often wished that it would stop raining when she wanted to play outside with her friends and within minutes the rain clouds would seemingly move a couple of streets away and wait until they had been all called back in for tea.

Now in her twenty-sixth year, Sparky had what she considered a good life: Her own home with two bedrooms, a peaceful garden with a tree and a cat who sometimes responded to the name Alice. Though usually only when the cat was hungry or in need of attention but that's cats the world over for you. The girl had a good job too, working for a nearby double glazing company. She had tried wishing for money but had soon found the influence just didn't work that way. And besides she liked meeting new people and what better way than to work, have interesting people call in each day? She would walk there most days, her dark hair tied in a pony tail and stop on the way to buy coffee and something sticky to eat. It was her only vice she would admit to.

While she couldn't force people to do things that were against their will- apparently somewhere there are rules written about free will and that sort of thing- she did find that the odd suggestion wished would mostly have the desired effect. Should they buy the upgraded security door to go with the new windows? Well it did make sense you know. As a result Sparky received a reasonable but not large bonus each month. She wasn't quite top salesperson but who would want that level of attention or pressure to perform?

Away from the office Sparky had one true friend with whom she could confide. Sam and Sparky were similar in age, only a few months apart and had been friends since early teens. And while Sparky could lead, Sam could only follow. Sam was ordinary like everyone else in the world. Sam's was not an unhappy existence mind, there was a man who had just moved in, bringing his dog and his clutter. The man was older by several years, tall and known as Michael and the dog, a spaniel called Holly. Holly would follow the man where ever he went. This suited Sam and Sparky just fine: the man and dog would go to the pub each Saturday night until late, so they would spend the evening together as old friends often do, drinking wine and sharing a meal.

Having set the scene briefly, our story proper opens the morning after the big storms. A Tuesday to be exact, the 31st day of the new King's rule, although the monarch was likely not responsible directly. Oh don't worry the Crows, whatever they are, will crop up later. Exactly how and why they pass should also be revealed in good time. For the moment however, right now, a garden shed is residing battered, on it's side, in Sam's front garden while Holly the spaniel is nowhere to be found...

(Now to Wunderlust to continue)

Posting Rules

A potted history of this blog, and its reasons for being:

When I was just a small girl, we suffered from a fair few blackouts. We often had candles in saucepans, and we would sit in a circle, the four of us, and tell a story. Each had to add at least a line to the story, often with hilarious results.

Thinking that Memory Lane is a nice place to visit sometimes, I thought creating a virtual Round Robin among some of my friends a very good idea.

So to those invited to attend, please firstly and above all, enjoy yourselves. Secondly, try to stick to the rules. They are there for a reason!

The Rules:

1. Never ever refer to any other member of the blog by their actual name. Some of us go by screen names for a reason.

2. Never mention people known to you (or the rest of us) by their real names. Other people like their privacy too.

3. Be as creative as you like, but not rude (in other words, keep it clean please!).

4. If you don't like an addition made by someone else, live with it. Turn it to your advantage, or turn in a different direction to the one the writer of that addition may have been hoping it would go. If all else fails, make it humorous.

5. Once a month, come what may, a new story will begin. Even if the last one isn't finished. Old unfinished stories will be revisited from time to time, in an attempt to reach completion.

6. The whole reason for this blog is to HAVE FUN. Remember that. It's not a serious attempt at group writing. It's just a way to get our creative juices flowing, and also a place to go for a brief vacation from day to day life (and work).

7. Each month, a member of our little group will be asked to come up with an idea for the next story, and to start that story off.

8. You can write as little or as much as you like in each entry. So long as it both adds to the story, and leaves the next person in line with something to work with. So one word sentences are frowned upon, okay?

9. And just to make life a bit more fun (or difficult), each time you post, add to the bottom who you want to continue the story. The person nominated has to do their best to post. Also, each post addition must be by a different person each time, so that the story continues.

10. Enjoy, have fun, remember to laugh, don't take yourself (or anyone else) too seriously, and remain within the *suitable for all* readership (no 18+ stuff please).