As they treaded along the crumbling towpath in the gloom, Jötz took the lead still. The only sounds other than their own footfalls were the dripping of water and the occasional splash as some aquatic creature jumped out of the flowing currents to fall back into them again. Every now and then, a cobblestone from the path was shaken loose by the pair’s passing to tumble with a plonking sound into the canal.
“Eet is like I vas telling you, Miss Ivy,” Jötz whispered as they crept downstream, “I tink dis ist one oft da Great Canals!” And as they went on, the Jaeger continued his tale from before. He told her of the Bargefolk and the canals that connected the world together, how every material good and coin must have passed along their waters at some point as everything was moved by their methods and traditions. Even the Storm King used their services to move his armies and their supplies! The Bargefolk, or Canallers, however, recognized no king or emperor, and instead danced on the edge of the world in their freedom. Their barges were brightly colored affairs that spoke of their love of life and all it had to offer.
But the powers that were didn’t like being ignored and were furious that the Canallers refused to recognize their authority. Wicked rumors spread like wide fire. Bargefolk were denied entry into some larger cities and towns. Goods were confiscated. And then, one day in a place called Bad Schuschen, a Canaller girl was assaulted…
After that, the Canallers disappeared. Their barges vanished, and the canals they had sailed upon were left untended to fill up with silt and become impassible until they reached the point where they vanished altogether over the generations. Most folks forgot about them completely. And in the absence of these free spirited travelers there arose a group of monks to take their place: the Corbettite Order.
Jötz looked about in wonder as they continued on, the dock left far behind them as he told his tale. “But dey say dat sometimes a body falls into a place like dis, some underground hole mit cater running try it. Und dat if chou listens, chou can still hear da bells und whistles und singing oft da Canallers living under da ground. Und if’n chou is not careful, da Canallers vill snatch chou avay to live mit dem under da hills!”
Peering ahead, Jötz thought he could see a wide opening in the tow path. Not quite like the doc they had left, but certainly some sort of larger area. “Vait, vait,” he whispered. “Ist dat… ist dat a boat??”
Certainly something lay in the chamber up ahead! Something large that was made of rusted metal and ancient wood, with tall twin cylinders that arose from its middle into the air. How long it had remained there tied at its berth was unknowable, but there remained one important fact.
It still floated.
Justric Member
STATUS: No longer here. youtube.com/watch?v=RLBo1HJK.. 9 yrs ago- Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
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Inane chatter is welcome, believe me! I don't think I can truly express how happy I was to see your post, it's been one of those months! Suffice to say, I'm glad you're back and look forward to continuing.
The book sounds like how I used to treat my history texts... and my roleplaying books.... and my theater scripts... But oddly enough, never my fiction. For those I would just jot down notes and stick them on the front leaf with pages numbers and a few words, sort of like creating my own index. I can only conclude from this that I am a silly person.
The book sounds like how I used to treat my history texts... and my roleplaying books.... and my theater scripts... But oddly enough, never my fiction. For those I would just jot down notes and stick them on the front leaf with pages numbers and a few words, sort of like creating my own index. I can only conclude from this that I am a silly person.
The Devil laughed at her barb, delighted with her wit. “Roses grown in mud and fertilizer? It may well be, though the gardner would have to have a mind towards dirt for it to be so. I did not know you were so fond of gardening!”
Even as they walked out upon the balcony his eyes were upon her form as it was christened by the moonlight, and he took perverse delight in watching her breast rise and fall as the Swan Queen inhaled the nighttime jasmine. Out here upon the raised porch with only the moonlight for their sight and the sounds of the masque muffled and dimmed, it almost seemed a magical place to be. He did not lean himself but stood straight and attentive as though waiting upon her. At her gesture towards his outfit, he could only chuckle.
“I play my part, and my part is to know when to cause a scene, your Majesty,” he quipped. “It is my stock and trade to know when I could, when I should, and when I must. After all, what good is Cuckoo’s Eve without a Cuckoo?” For all his flippant tone as he asked the rhetorical question, there was something sad in his words. It was as though he greatly missed something, something that felt all others had forgotten and even scarce remembered himself some nights. Looking up towards the moon, he sighed as he stepped up to the rail besides her and placed both hand lightly upon it.. “There were times past when all across the lands people opened their doors to the Cuckoo when he came masquing, and feasted him so as to give The Devil his due. Children would run from door to door, all costumed and jeering and shouting… A thousands knights and witches and goblins and heroes and monsters and hogs and scarecrows and all the like… Households and farms would hand out the last leavings of their winter stores to them, saving just enough for what was needed until harvest and leaving their larders and pantries clear for the first early grains.”
A wistful catch in his musical voice painted the picture upon the mind, his recollections of his forefathers’ times as clear as any vision as he spoke with them. “Before there were kings and queens and dukes, and when each village was its own nation ruled by thane and served by thrall? Cuckoo’s Eve was the night when lovers made off into the woods and underbrush, and those babes come nine months later were blessed as ‘merry-begot.’ And if their names were not their father’s, there was no harm in it. They were loved as any child should have been loved, despite their lavender eyes.”
The Devil’s gee dropped to the darkness of the gardens below, the unseen flowers letting their perfumes fill the air to banish all cares. Glancing at the Swam Queen sidelong, he chuckled. “Forgive me, your Majesty. This should not be a night for maudlin reminisces!” Pushing off the balcony to stand upright again, he looked towards the frolic and fun within the halls. A dance had begun, and he was sure he could see The Sparrow Maiden whirling at the center of it.
“Are you worried for the little Sparrow, your Majesty? She is getting her heart’s wish, you know. Always wanting the freedoms of nobles, always secretly coveting their days at embroidery and their nights at dancing as she drudged-drudged-druged for her masters’ bellies in abuse and service. Her master may be a just man, but his retainers are not always so to those beneath them. Always the good girl, though, always obedient and kind to others, asking nothing while guarding her own unwanted virtue. Tonight she plays the wanton she desires to be, her heart unlocked tonight just as it was once for maids and bucks long ago on such eves. Tomorrow? Who can tell? Maybe she’ll curse our meeting with hate and tears?”
There followed a whisper beneath his mask, ever so slight so as to deceive the ear. “Or maybe,” he breathed forlornly, “she will believe.”
With a sudden flourish, he bowed low to the Swan Queen in apologies. “Forgive me, your Majesty!” he begged graciously and in a fashion that would make the most courteous of courtiers envious. “Perhaps the wine has gone to my head to ignore your beauty over my own fancies. But come! You asked for this introduction, did you not? My little Sparrow would not have brought you hence otherwise. So what is it you wish of me? In this night, you and I are equals, a King and Queen each in our own right, and I would not well refuse you any request!”
“After all,” he added roguishly with a wink, “from now til next moonrise, there’s nothing I would hold against you save that you ask it of me.”
Even as they walked out upon the balcony his eyes were upon her form as it was christened by the moonlight, and he took perverse delight in watching her breast rise and fall as the Swan Queen inhaled the nighttime jasmine. Out here upon the raised porch with only the moonlight for their sight and the sounds of the masque muffled and dimmed, it almost seemed a magical place to be. He did not lean himself but stood straight and attentive as though waiting upon her. At her gesture towards his outfit, he could only chuckle.
“I play my part, and my part is to know when to cause a scene, your Majesty,” he quipped. “It is my stock and trade to know when I could, when I should, and when I must. After all, what good is Cuckoo’s Eve without a Cuckoo?” For all his flippant tone as he asked the rhetorical question, there was something sad in his words. It was as though he greatly missed something, something that felt all others had forgotten and even scarce remembered himself some nights. Looking up towards the moon, he sighed as he stepped up to the rail besides her and placed both hand lightly upon it.. “There were times past when all across the lands people opened their doors to the Cuckoo when he came masquing, and feasted him so as to give The Devil his due. Children would run from door to door, all costumed and jeering and shouting… A thousands knights and witches and goblins and heroes and monsters and hogs and scarecrows and all the like… Households and farms would hand out the last leavings of their winter stores to them, saving just enough for what was needed until harvest and leaving their larders and pantries clear for the first early grains.”
A wistful catch in his musical voice painted the picture upon the mind, his recollections of his forefathers’ times as clear as any vision as he spoke with them. “Before there were kings and queens and dukes, and when each village was its own nation ruled by thane and served by thrall? Cuckoo’s Eve was the night when lovers made off into the woods and underbrush, and those babes come nine months later were blessed as ‘merry-begot.’ And if their names were not their father’s, there was no harm in it. They were loved as any child should have been loved, despite their lavender eyes.”
The Devil’s gee dropped to the darkness of the gardens below, the unseen flowers letting their perfumes fill the air to banish all cares. Glancing at the Swam Queen sidelong, he chuckled. “Forgive me, your Majesty. This should not be a night for maudlin reminisces!” Pushing off the balcony to stand upright again, he looked towards the frolic and fun within the halls. A dance had begun, and he was sure he could see The Sparrow Maiden whirling at the center of it.
“Are you worried for the little Sparrow, your Majesty? She is getting her heart’s wish, you know. Always wanting the freedoms of nobles, always secretly coveting their days at embroidery and their nights at dancing as she drudged-drudged-druged for her masters’ bellies in abuse and service. Her master may be a just man, but his retainers are not always so to those beneath them. Always the good girl, though, always obedient and kind to others, asking nothing while guarding her own unwanted virtue. Tonight she plays the wanton she desires to be, her heart unlocked tonight just as it was once for maids and bucks long ago on such eves. Tomorrow? Who can tell? Maybe she’ll curse our meeting with hate and tears?”
There followed a whisper beneath his mask, ever so slight so as to deceive the ear. “Or maybe,” he breathed forlornly, “she will believe.”
With a sudden flourish, he bowed low to the Swan Queen in apologies. “Forgive me, your Majesty!” he begged graciously and in a fashion that would make the most courteous of courtiers envious. “Perhaps the wine has gone to my head to ignore your beauty over my own fancies. But come! You asked for this introduction, did you not? My little Sparrow would not have brought you hence otherwise. So what is it you wish of me? In this night, you and I are equals, a King and Queen each in our own right, and I would not well refuse you any request!”
“After all,” he added roguishly with a wink, “from now til next moonrise, there’s nothing I would hold against you save that you ask it of me.”
“Er, ja. Vhatever chou say.” Jötz was unsure which was more unsettling, the ticking contraption that gave them enough life to see by and smelling like toothpaste that would probably explode if they dropped it… or the way Ivy’s teeth now glowed with a similar light eerily in the darkness. He had heard about certain breath mints causing sparks when people bit into them. He had not, however, ever heard of the entire mouth sparking even after the mint was eaten!
Deciding to ignore her sparking mouth (which faded after a few moments), he led the way down the ramp and into the wet darkness. He wanted to keep the Spark behind him so that if she fell or slipped he might catch her up; he only needed the ambient light of her device to see in the gloom, not the full glare. Not that there was much to see. The sloping passageway was bland and completely utilitarian, nothing to bring on a sense of fear or danger at all!
“Must not have been made by a Spark,” he muttered.
At the bottom of the incline, the pair were discovered a large underground tunnel through which murky water flowed thickly. The ceiling was arched and made of crumbling brick, just as was the walkway onto which they stepped. The smell wasn’t as stagnant as the swamp as the water did move even if sluggishly. It resembled nothing so much as riverside dock, with a wide stone platform that jutted slightly into the currents from the walkway. The walkway extended off in either direction along the wall closest to them - a towpath.
Jötz gaped as he looked about at the construction, the design, the possible purposes. “Canallers,” he breathed in hushed awe. “Dis… Dis must be one oft da Great Canals I vas telling you about earlier MIzz Ivy! If’n ve follow de vater, ve stands a chance oft finding another city.” He looked back over his shoulder up the passageway. “Und maybe less toads!”
He looked about again but not finding what he sought, the Jaeger shook his head. “I dont see any barges or boats. But maybe ve can just take the towpath for now? If’n its blocked later on, ve can always turn around.” Jötz stuck a hand into one of his pouches and pulled out a fist full of pork jerky. “Chou eat up, though, eh? As ve valk. Right nows chou needs da energy and yummy goodness, I’m tinking.”
Deciding to ignore her sparking mouth (which faded after a few moments), he led the way down the ramp and into the wet darkness. He wanted to keep the Spark behind him so that if she fell or slipped he might catch her up; he only needed the ambient light of her device to see in the gloom, not the full glare. Not that there was much to see. The sloping passageway was bland and completely utilitarian, nothing to bring on a sense of fear or danger at all!
“Must not have been made by a Spark,” he muttered.
At the bottom of the incline, the pair were discovered a large underground tunnel through which murky water flowed thickly. The ceiling was arched and made of crumbling brick, just as was the walkway onto which they stepped. The smell wasn’t as stagnant as the swamp as the water did move even if sluggishly. It resembled nothing so much as riverside dock, with a wide stone platform that jutted slightly into the currents from the walkway. The walkway extended off in either direction along the wall closest to them - a towpath.
Jötz gaped as he looked about at the construction, the design, the possible purposes. “Canallers,” he breathed in hushed awe. “Dis… Dis must be one oft da Great Canals I vas telling you about earlier MIzz Ivy! If’n ve follow de vater, ve stands a chance oft finding another city.” He looked back over his shoulder up the passageway. “Und maybe less toads!”
He looked about again but not finding what he sought, the Jaeger shook his head. “I dont see any barges or boats. But maybe ve can just take the towpath for now? If’n its blocked later on, ve can always turn around.” Jötz stuck a hand into one of his pouches and pulled out a fist full of pork jerky. “Chou eat up, though, eh? As ve valk. Right nows chou needs da energy and yummy goodness, I’m tinking.”
Thanks for the words of comfort. I'd like to think it's nothing to do with me, and that it's just the way of the world. And like you, I rp a wide variety of genres at a varied level so that I do always have something to work on; the past week has just been... sparse? Is that the word? I don't know. It' just that since Monday I feel like I've been left flapping in the wind on oh so many stories. But things did improve somewhat today. One of my newer partners sent her apologies for having to call a break so soon, but then spent most of the afternoon planning the story out so its ready to go upon her return.
As for The Orphan's Wedding, if you ever want to time jump, be my guest! Again, no pressure, of course.
As for The Orphan's Wedding, if you ever want to time jump, be my guest! Again, no pressure, of course.
Melancholy.
Since I started here two years ago, I have been part of at least 35 1X1 stories. Only one of them has ever been completed. At the moment, 18 of those stories are still open (I gave up on the rest after my partners lost interested or disappeared altogether). Of those 18, 8 are on hiatus leaving 10... and some of those haven't posted for close to 3 weeks now. Several of them seemed to have vanished altogether or told me they were going to be away for a while just after one or two posts! You, dear heart, tried! And you have no idea how much I appreciate that!!
I just keep getting the feeling I'm doing something wrong, but I don't know what! People tell me they like my style, they like the stories and ideas that I present, they like my characters, they even seem to appreciate the fact that I want to hear and use their ideas! But in the end I just seem to be having the worst time keeping more than 2 or 3 longterm partners, and I just don't know why!
(Laughing) Then again, maybe I'm just being paranoid and feeling sorry for myself. It's been a long couple of days.
Since I started here two years ago, I have been part of at least 35 1X1 stories. Only one of them has ever been completed. At the moment, 18 of those stories are still open (I gave up on the rest after my partners lost interested or disappeared altogether). Of those 18, 8 are on hiatus leaving 10... and some of those haven't posted for close to 3 weeks now. Several of them seemed to have vanished altogether or told me they were going to be away for a while just after one or two posts! You, dear heart, tried! And you have no idea how much I appreciate that!!
I just keep getting the feeling I'm doing something wrong, but I don't know what! People tell me they like my style, they like the stories and ideas that I present, they like my characters, they even seem to appreciate the fact that I want to hear and use their ideas! But in the end I just seem to be having the worst time keeping more than 2 or 3 longterm partners, and I just don't know why!
(Laughing) Then again, maybe I'm just being paranoid and feeling sorry for myself. It's been a long couple of days.
I wish I had some answers for you, dearie. All I can offer is a cyber hug for what it's worth. I know I'm starting to get to the point where I may rethink what it is I'm doing here.
Ick!
Well, I've read your posts on some of your other RPs (not being stalkerish, I just liking reading other things all of my partners are involved with), and I have noticed a bit of a drop of there as well of late. My suggestion is the same as before, dearie! Take a break! If it's wrenching your guts just thinking about it, take a step back.
The waking up in pain part? That's a little more alarming. It's starting to sound a lot like the clinical depression I went through a few years ago and still suffer from a bit time to time. And that can be just as serious as any disease! I know it can be hard, I hate the medical industry myself, but in this case you might just want to go see a doctor, love! Don't let anyone tell you it's 'just' depression! And if it is something more tangible, then the sooner you talk to a professional about it, the better!
In the meantime? Try going old school. Pen and notebook. Much like the artistic exercise, don't try to write anything specifically. As words come into your mind, just write them down. They don't have to connect or be meaningful or even make sense. If you see a stop sign, write down 'Red.' Taste vanilla ice cream, maybe the word 'clown' will pop into your head. Don't force it, don't worry about, just jot down individual words now and then. It takes time to get into the habit, yes, but there's no hurry, right?
Well, I've read your posts on some of your other RPs (not being stalkerish, I just liking reading other things all of my partners are involved with), and I have noticed a bit of a drop of there as well of late. My suggestion is the same as before, dearie! Take a break! If it's wrenching your guts just thinking about it, take a step back.
The waking up in pain part? That's a little more alarming. It's starting to sound a lot like the clinical depression I went through a few years ago and still suffer from a bit time to time. And that can be just as serious as any disease! I know it can be hard, I hate the medical industry myself, but in this case you might just want to go see a doctor, love! Don't let anyone tell you it's 'just' depression! And if it is something more tangible, then the sooner you talk to a professional about it, the better!
In the meantime? Try going old school. Pen and notebook. Much like the artistic exercise, don't try to write anything specifically. As words come into your mind, just write them down. They don't have to connect or be meaningful or even make sense. If you see a stop sign, write down 'Red.' Taste vanilla ice cream, maybe the word 'clown' will pop into your head. Don't force it, don't worry about, just jot down individual words now and then. It takes time to get into the habit, yes, but there's no hurry, right?
WOW! Due to... a surprising amount of customer demand, I have had to close the shop for now until we can "restock". Thanks to all the tremendously talented and imaginative customers who have chosen to patronize my little stall!
A crier shall be sent forth throughout the marketplace should I open again for business, and at that time I hope that you will consider my shop for all of your future particular, peculiar and unique roleplaying needs!
A crier shall be sent forth throughout the marketplace should I open again for business, and at that time I hope that you will consider my shop for all of your future particular, peculiar and unique roleplaying needs!
Rolling his eyes, Jötz sighed and nodded. He wasn't sure exactly how much she had absorbed of what he had been saying, if anything, although it was clear Ivy had at least gotten the general gist. Jaegers generally weren't classified by society as minion material, but it was clear that she was going to need someone to serve as a substitute until other arrangements could be made. It did give him some encouragement that she had moved closer towards him. There was a slight flutter in his reconstructed heart at her proximately, but he told himself it was only the desire for self-preservation flinching at how close the Spark was to him.
How much longer, he wondered, before he woke up to find her experimenting on him?
"Goot." Jötz nodded as though unsure as to what he had exactly agreed with. "Goot. Den lets find a vay out of here, eh? Ja."
The Jaeger began to explore their surroundings, examining the walls and looking for exits. Going back up was out of the question; not only was it just a few feet too far, the edges of the hole they had plunged through looked unstable and crumbling. Trying to grab the lip of the sinkhole would just result in another fall with more debris falling on top of them. There was, however, a passage in the most shadowed of the corners. It lead downwards into the underground heart of the swamp and yet remained curiously dry! Jötz could spy no ornamentation on the walls, no decoration of any kind, and so could only conclude that wherever they were it had once served a more utilitarian purpose. He looked back into the large room they had fallen into. A store room or warehouse of some sort, one left empty? Another passage way that looked as though it, too, might slope off into the depths was on the far side of the chamber, but time and gravity had collapsed it. So only one viable way of escape.
Jötz walked back towards Ivy, gesturing back over his shoulder at the hallway. "Zo, only vun vay, Mizz Ivy. Down der. Can't see much mit out a light or zometing, but I can smell vater down der. Fresh water, running, like a stream or zome such." He shook his furry head, fangs in a frown. "Never seen anyting like dis, doh. Not outsides of a city! Der ist heavy scratch marks on da floor, like dey dragged heavy tings tru here. Maybe... maybe zome kind of docks?"
He hesitated for a moment, before surrendering to the inevitable. They would need to see down there, the darkness so thick that even his Jaeger sight would be useless. "Zo... got a light?"
How much longer, he wondered, before he woke up to find her experimenting on him?
"Goot." Jötz nodded as though unsure as to what he had exactly agreed with. "Goot. Den lets find a vay out of here, eh? Ja."
The Jaeger began to explore their surroundings, examining the walls and looking for exits. Going back up was out of the question; not only was it just a few feet too far, the edges of the hole they had plunged through looked unstable and crumbling. Trying to grab the lip of the sinkhole would just result in another fall with more debris falling on top of them. There was, however, a passage in the most shadowed of the corners. It lead downwards into the underground heart of the swamp and yet remained curiously dry! Jötz could spy no ornamentation on the walls, no decoration of any kind, and so could only conclude that wherever they were it had once served a more utilitarian purpose. He looked back into the large room they had fallen into. A store room or warehouse of some sort, one left empty? Another passage way that looked as though it, too, might slope off into the depths was on the far side of the chamber, but time and gravity had collapsed it. So only one viable way of escape.
Jötz walked back towards Ivy, gesturing back over his shoulder at the hallway. "Zo, only vun vay, Mizz Ivy. Down der. Can't see much mit out a light or zometing, but I can smell vater down der. Fresh water, running, like a stream or zome such." He shook his furry head, fangs in a frown. "Never seen anyting like dis, doh. Not outsides of a city! Der ist heavy scratch marks on da floor, like dey dragged heavy tings tru here. Maybe... maybe zome kind of docks?"
He hesitated for a moment, before surrendering to the inevitable. They would need to see down there, the darkness so thick that even his Jaeger sight would be useless. "Zo... got a light?"
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