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Visionary 
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Member Since: Sat Jan 03, 2004
Posts: 2,131
In Reply To
Visionary 
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Member Since: Sat Jan 03, 2004
Posts: 2,131
Subj: Softball
Posted: Wed May 19, 2010 at 11:31:06 am EDT (Viewed 902 times)
Reply Subj: Unfinished Tales from the Hard Drive
Posted: Wed May 19, 2010 at 12:06:13 am EDT (Viewed 1003 times)

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Yes, since nobody is posting anything, it's time for the traditional cleaning out of my hard drive of story snippets left unfinished long past their relevancy.

This one comes features Vizh's and Hallie's adventures in the Mythlands in the quest to retrieve Naari (aka Magweed). It follows various chapters of Untold Tales, as well as the posted story where Vizh has a conversation with Dancer (complete with tutu and strap-on fairy wings) in a dream thanks to a feather supplied by Quoth. I believe I scrapped this work in progress because the mood was quite subdued and the narrative wasn't really leading anywhere... it was mostly all recap. Plus it wasn't funny at all. But there's a sweetness to it that's kind of... well, sweet, I guess.

In the end, I started over and we got the "Hallie as a centaur" story instead. I don't *think* this ever got folded into another story, but it might have, or it might have been posted in a previous cleaning of the hard drive. If so, I apologize for the repost.

And remember... it doesn't go anywhere. It'll just end abruptly. But hey, it's free...




“Why don’t you get some sleep…” Visionary suggested as he came up on the nodding woman, curled up against a tree trunk. “I’ll take over the watch.”

She blinked to rouse herself with some embarrassment. “Oh! I was just… um… sorry.”

He smiled wearily as he eased down to the ground next to her. “Don’t be. It’s been a long… week? Month?” he scratched his head. “I have very little idea of how long we’ve been in Faerie any more. I try to keep track… to count the days Naari’s been gone, but…”

“Time keeps slipping away from you” she surmised. “Fleabot thinks it’s in the nature of the land… His theory is that it’s such a primeval place of story that time here is relative to the significance of the narrative. Large passages of unimportant story drift by quickly, while key moments linger and are stretched out. Plays havoc on our mundane perceptions.”

Visionary nodded. “Fleabot’s a clever one.”

“Mmmm” Hallie answered noncommittally. “For real entertainment, ask him how this might relate to the way the Shoggoth perceives time. He popped a spring just thinking about it.” She glanced over at him. “So… any luck with Quoth’s feather?”

The Regular sighed. “No. I’m beginning to think I imagined that meeting with Dancer altogether.” He had been placing the black raven quill under his head every night he had slept in the mythlands, but he had been unable to reconnect in dream with his adoptive sister back in Parodiopolis. “It’s better than thinking about the alternatives.”

She laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sure they’re fine… Maybe you both have to be sleeping at the same time for it to work? That right there would narrow the odds of a connection…”

“She’s supposed to be good at working the odds” Visionary pointed out.

Hallie sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m afraid she probably has more pressing matters demanding her powers.” She stared out into the darkened woods as they listened to the crickets. “I’m sure they’re all fine” she repeated, more to herself this time. “They’ll be waiting for us when we come back.”

Visionary fished into one of the pouches on his belt, careful not to jostle the emerald-topped head that rested so comfortingly on his shoulder or disturb the jade skinned arm that draped warmly across his chest. He withdrew a bundle of wrapped cloth, and unwound it to produce a shard of glass mirror. Hallie watched as he held it this way and that, until it suddenly caught a bright green light, bouncing it back into the woods and illuminating a path through the trees.

“No matter where you go in reality, no matter how far away, or how much may stand between you and it, these shards are part of the Lighthouse and will always reflect back the light of the tower” Quoth had explained the night they had all left for Faerie. “Home is never too far away… Don’t you go forgetting that.”

Hallie reached her hand into the beam, catching the light in her palm. “Hello you” she said to it fondly.

The effect was subtle enough (and Visionary tired enough,) that he didn’t notice it immediately. Nor was it something his mind would normally register as odd. But as the woods grew slightly brighter around him, he blinked in surprise. “Hallie… are you glowing?”

The former AI looked down at her legs through heavy eyelids to see that she did indeed cast a slight green glow onto the bed of autumn leaves beneath her. “Huh” she noted sleepily. She waved her hand back out of then into the mirror light, and the glow to her skin faded and returned. “That’s pretty neat” she noted as she rolled towards him, wrapping an arm about his sweatshirt covered chest to use as a pillow.

“I guess it knows its own” Visionary suggested to the sleepy woman. The lighthouse was lit with one of Hallie’s own holograms after all… It was, in essence, a part of her that shone back at them through the glass.

She sighed. “I… miss glowing” she admitted hesitantly. “I hate needing to sleep, and to eat. I hate smelling like… like a human that hasn’t had a decent bath since who knows when…”

“That pool in the river at the foothills of those mountains, remember? The assembled brownies gave you a standing ovation when you emerged.”

She leaned back to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Um... so I heard" he hastily added.






I'm pretty sure I must have cut and pasted most of Mumphrey's lines from somewhere, because I still have no idea what he's saying. It's a shame this one doesn't go anywhere, because it's a classic premise... but at least it's one that other people have covered with their own versions.




“Right…” Sir Mumphrey stated, looking over the assembled Legion and Juniors and guests on the warm, sunny fields of the Lair island. “It’s really quite simple… The fielding team disperses around the field. One fielder is the bowler. He takes the ball and stands some distance behind one of the wickets. Another fielder is the wicket-keeper… He squats behind the opposite wicket. One batsman stands behind each popping crease. The batsman farthest from the bowler is the striker, the other is the non-striker. The striker stands before his wicket, on or near the popping crease, in the batting stance. The non-striker simply stands behind the other popping crease, waiting to run if necessary. The bowler takes a run-up from behind the non-striker's wicket and when he reaches the non-striker's popping crease he bowls the ball towards the striker. The striker may then attempt to hit the ball with his bat. If he misses it, the wicket-keeper will catch it and the ball is completed. If he hits it, the two batsmen may score runs. The ball is considered to be in play from the moment the bowler begins his run-up until it is dead. When one bowler has completed six balls, that constitutes an over. A different member of the fielding team is given the ball and bowls the next over - from the opposite end of the pitch. The batsmen do not change ends, so the roles of striker and non-striker swap after each over. Any member of the fielding team may bowl, so long as no bowler delivers two consecutive overs. Once a bowler begins an over, he must complete it, unless injured or suspended during the over. Clear as day so far, right? Now, another possibility during a ball is that a batsman may get out. There are ten different methods of being out…”

“Er…” Visionary interrupted. “What was that middle part again?”

“So…” Hatman noted casually. “Softball?”

“Softball” Epitome agreed.




Later…

“We’ll take Donar” Hatman chose. “He comes with his own bat.”

“Fine… Dancer” Epitome countered. “Hello, batting averages.”

Later still…

“Fleabot” Hatman said. “Good luck finding the strike zone.”

“Knifey” Epitome decided.

“Aw, c’mon!” Visionary complained. “Knifey doesn’t even have any arms!”

“Never underestimate the importance of infield chatter” the sentient blade suggested.

“I knew it… I’m gonna be picked last…” Visionary grumbled. “It’s gym class all over again… only without any towering 5th graders to steal my lunch money.”