Shifti - User contributions [en]

Story archives

2008-06-19T16:12:34Z

Thaeus: updated mk url.

This list contains links to other sites where transformation-themed stories are archived. It is deliberately indiscriminate and is organized alphabetically. Users are invited to create other lists organized by theme or quality.

*[http://www.ararchive.com AR Story Archive] - An Archive of Age Regression and Age Progression stories and images.
*[http://www.chaos-keep.com/Stories.html Chaos Keep] - Fox Cutter's List of stories
*[http://www.cyoc.net/ Choose Your Own Change] - A large archive of various transformation stories of all types. Many consist of transformation vignettes or soft (or hard) porno, but there are some gems in the rough if you dig. There may occasionally be some fun in the chatrooms
*[http://transform.to/~cubist/ Cubists TSA-ish website] - Cubist maintains a website archiving "List Transformed", "Tales of the Blind Pig", and other stories.
*[http://dragon.furvect.com/main.html Dragon's Transformation Stories] - Mostly by Dragon, but also with an archive of others' works.
*[http://www.fictionmania.com/ Fictionmania] - A truly massive archive of transgender transformation stories of all subtypes.
*[http://www.many-realms.net/LTBSA/ The Legacy of Timeless Beauty archive] - A large collection of statue, mannequin, doll, android, and other similar inanimate TF stories.
*[http://www.mermaidstail.info/ Mermaid's Tail Gallery] - Primarily a photomorph site, but most of the pictures have stories written for them. They're not all mermaids either, though aquatic forms are heavily represented.
*[http://metamorkeep.com/ Metamor Keep] - The master archive of ALL stories in the "Metamor Keep" story universe.
*[http://www.fanarchive.net/miavir/stories/index.html Miavair's Index of Anthro Stories - Mia's Main Index] - A meta-archive of primarily furry stories, but with a number of transformation stories. Sadly, the site is no longer updated or maintained much, so a lot of the links no longer work -- but a large number still do.
*[http://transform.to/~ravenb/stories/index.html Raven's Lair - The Stories] - A large collection of "Tales of the Blind Pig" stories, "Metamor Keep" stories, and lots of other unique stuff, including the results of a number of story contests.
*[http://www.sapphireplace.com/archive.html Sapphire's Place] - A large and regularly updated archive of trans-gender stories.
*[http://socks.furvect.com/misc/ Socks' Furvect page] with various miscellaneous TF stories.
*[http://transform.to/~mwbard/tbp/index.html Tales from the Blind Pig] - An attempt to create an archive of ALL the stories in the "Tales of the Blind Pig" story universe.
*[http://www.furry.org.au/aatheus/taurtails/taurtails.html 'Taur Tales - A repository for four-legged literature] - A collection of 'taur stories, some with more than four legs.
*[http://tfseeker.tfcentral.com/T-Authors-T.html TF-Seeker's Sightings] - A large collection of links to other TF story archives, complete with descriptions and ratings.
*[http://www.lanceradvanced.com/XForm/BooksType.html Transformation Bookstore] - A large list of dead-tree books (with handy Amazon links) that contain transformations of various sorts, sorted by TF type or by genre.
*[http://tsa.transform.to/ Transformation Story Archive (TSA)] - The venerable TSA, the first major online repository of general transformation stories. Hasn't been updated in recent years, but spawned a community of transformation fans.
*[http://tsat.transform.to/ Transformation Stories, Art and Talk] ([http://tsat.xepher.net/ mirror site]) - A bimonthly ezine (now deceased) whose 48 issues feature original transformation stories and other related material.
*[http://www.transplantedlife.com/ Transplanted Life] - a TG story in LiveJournal format that's been running continuously since July 2003.
*[http://yiffstar.com/index.yiff?action=authorsearch&authorsearch=Von%20Krieger Von Krieger's Yiff Star site] featuring a large collection of stories by Von Krieger, many with TFs in them.
*[http://woc-archive.xepher.net/index.php Winds of Change Archive] - The master archvie of ALL the stories in the "Winds of Change" story universe.
* [http://www.lionking.org/~brian/ The Winds of Change Round Robin Page] - Two massive ongoing stories with rotating authors set in the "Winds of Change" story universe. Sadly no longer updated.
*[http://www.unicorn-dream.co.uk/destrier/stories.html If WisheRs were Horses... Stories] - A collection of various equine (all types) transformation stories.

=Interactive Story Archives=

*[http://catprog.tfcentral.com/story.html Catprog's Interactive Stories] - A collection of interactive stories.
* CYOC also hosts [http://www.cyoc.net/stories/ interactive stories], where authors can write their own chapters.
* [http://furrventure.yiffstar.com/ Furrventure] - Another interactive collection of TF-related stories.
** [http://www.themasterplan.net/furrventure/ Previous iteration of Furrventure]
*[http://www.transformationlist.com/story/ Phaedrus' Interactive Stories] - Another collection of interactive stories.

User:Thaeus

2008-06-19T06:28:48Z

Thaeus: /* The Saga of Julia */

== Yarr ==

This is a commercial for my army and my navy. 
This is a rehearsal for all the empty promises I will be. 
I won't let you down. 
Done letting you down.

== Writing ==

So, uh, writing. I'm going to dump stories that haven't actually gone anywhere in here.

=== Unfinished ===

==== The Saga of Julia ====

Oy, I guess I had better explain...

In the fall of 1999 (nearly ten years ago!) I took an English course at university about Heroic Literature, and it was actually really, really awesome. We studied Icelandic sagas, ''Don Quixote'', ''American Psycho'' (as an anti-hero), ''Gargantua and Pantagruel'', ''The Life and Adventures of Tristam Shandy'', and other stuff I don't remember anymore. For the purpose of the course we defined a hero as a larger than life person who embodies their world, so talked about how Patrick Bateman represents the excesses and shallowness of 1980s Wall Street, or Gisli, the life and adventures of the old Norse, and so on.

In the stories that play heroes straight up, they usually follow an arc: some sort of remarkable entrance into the world, a string of greater and greater successes, and then, ultimately, they go too far. Probably the most prototypical was ''Gisli's Saga'', which I almost certainly do not remember correctly. But I ''think'' what happens is that the nephews of the King of Norway do something to his relatives, so he retaliates and kills them, and as a result goes on the run. Ultimately he tries to forment a rebellion against King Harald and gets killed.

So with that bubbling in my mind, plus the anti-hero of Egil, the unreliable narrator of ''American Psycho'', and the odd experiments in form of ''Tristan Shandy'', and the vague desire to do some silly writing again, I came up with the Saga of Julia.

It's an MK story. I like to think the characters have their own voices, even if I haven't let them say much over the years.

I'm posting this here in the desire to get back in action and finish off these stories. I'm probably going to throw out what I have and start from scratch, since I'm not who I was back then. But here it is.

Yarr.

* [[User:Thaeus/soj/prelude|Prelude]]
* [[User:Thaeus/soj/e1|Episode 1 - A Tia in the Road]]
* [[User:Thaeus/soj/e2|Episode 2 - "Umm ... Which Way is Midtown?"]]

User:Thaeus

2008-06-19T06:27:23Z

Thaeus: /* The Saga of Julia */

== Yarr ==

This is a commercial for my army and my navy. 
This is a rehearsal for all the empty promises I will be. 
I won't let you down. 
Done letting you down.

== Writing ==

So, uh, writing. I'm going to dump stories that haven't actually gone anywhere in here.

=== Unfinished ===

==== The Saga of Julia ====

Oy, I guess I had better explain...

In the fall of 1999 (nearly ten years ago!) I took an English course at university about Heroic Literature, and it was actually really, really awesome. We studied Icelandic sagas, ''Don Quixote'', ''American Psycho'' (as an anti-hero), ''Gargantua and Pantagruel'', ''The Life and Adventures of Tristam Shandy'', and other stuff I don't remember anymore. For the purpose of the course we defined a hero as a larger than life person who embodies their world, so talked about how Patrick Bateman represents the excesses and shallowness of 1980s Wall Street, or Gisli the life and adventures of the old Norse, and so on.

In the stories that play heroes straight up, they usually follow an arc: some sort of remarkable entrance into the world, a string of greater and greater successes, and then, ultimately, they go too far. Probably the most prototypical was ''Gisli's Saga'', which I almost certainly do not remember correctly. But I ''think'' what happens is that the nephews of the King of Norway do something to his relatives, so he retaliates and kills them, and as a result goes on the run. Ultimately he tries to forment a rebellion against King Harald and gets killed.

So with that bubbling in my mind, plus the anti-hero of Egil, the unreliable narrator of ''American Psycho'', and the odd experiments in form of ''Tristan Shandy'', and the vague desire to do some silly writing again, I came up with the Saga of Julia.

It's an MK story. I like to think the characters have their own voices, even if I haven't let them say much over the years.

I'm posting this here in the desire to get back in action and finish off these stories. I'm probably going to throw out what I have and start from scratch, since I'm not who I was back then. But here it is.

Yarr.

* [[User:Thaeus/soj/prelude|Prelude]]
* [[User:Thaeus/soj/e1|Episode 1 - A Tia in the Road]]
* [[User:Thaeus/soj/e2|Episode 2 - "Umm ... Which Way is Midtown?"]]

User:Thaeus/soj/prelude

2008-06-19T06:24:32Z

Thaeus:

== The Saga of Julia: Prelude ==

=== A FEW WEEKS BEFORE THE WINTER SOLSTICE ===

It was cold outside; the Winter Solstice was only a few short weeks away. Under the still and empty light of a half-moon, a girl, escorted by a friend, walked into the great and puzzling edifice known as Metamor Keep. Her tear-stained eyes were mostly closed, opening only occasionally out of a passive interest in where she was going. The destination didn't matter.

They walked north through the Outer Gate without much trouble. The gate was inexplicably still open at this hour, and the guard, satisfied that they weren't lutins, waved them through without a problem. The Middle Gate was even easier - her friend knew the guard on duty.

Continuing on their way, they walked north through the town. The snow covered houses and shops looked rather attractive to her chaperon, but she didn't give them a glance. They continued north through the snow-covered streets to the Keep Proper.

The third gate, the Inner Gate, presented little trouble either. The guards were playing a card game. Two of them were quite obviously drunk, and likely trying to relieve the monotony of a late-night shift. This did not reflect well on them half-an-hour later.

Perhaps she knew where she was going after all - she shrugged off his help and took the lead. Her stumbling steps steadied, and led deep into the Lower Keep to a stairway her companion had never seen before. He slowed down and stopped - it was likely that it led up into a tower, and neither of them had leave to enter. To his dismay, she entered, and he had no choice but to follow. He just couldn't leave her alone.

The steps ended, amazingly enough, at a completely empty room. There was a large glass window facing the north with a view encompassing the snowy gardens, the thick castle walls, and the valley and mountains to the north. The beautiful scenery, especially the northern mountains, reminded her of some things and unpleasant issues that she hadn't thought of for years.

But it took her away again... she dropped her backpack onto the floor and just stared out the window. She was mesmerized by the lull of the night, and the smells that filled the air. She leaned out next to the glass, and let drift her despair.

Patiently, quietly, she waited for the dawn.

{{Separator|k}}

=== THREE-AND-A-HALF YEARS AGO ===

"Send her in," he said in tones of grave importance.

"Yes, sir!" replied the guard, who was sufficiently unnerved. He pulled open one of the two large doors and beckoned for the haggard woman waiting out in the hall to come in.

He watched her patiently as she staggered in. Her hair was long and brown and in a state of disarray. It looked like the death of combs. Her face was unblemished, but her eyes were red and had bags. The clothes she wore were alright -- a pair of black pants and a red short-sleeved shirt but a bit dirty and frayed, and certainly not something to wear for such an important meeting. On the other hand, it was quite possible that she had no idea what she was getting into.

She looked rather worn-out. He felt a bit of pity for her.

In her right hand she held a wooden corked flask. In a lightning movement, she brought the bottle to her lips and drank several mouthfuls.

Shock replaced his pity. He recognized the smell right away - that was some of Donnie's good stuff! Although he had only tried that particular poison twice over the past three years, he still immediately recognized it. The stuff, as it was affectionately known, was very special, and according to popular rumour could only be brewed during the first full moon after the Autumn Equinox. All he knew for certain were that it was extremely hard to get hold of, and after Donnie deemed it ready for public consumption (it required a lengthy period of aging), all his regulars would be bedridden for nearly a week.

The stuff was made from apples well, mostly apples. It was true about having to keep it in a wooden cup, too.

No wonder she was staggering! And yet, still, she was standing up and on her feet, and for that alone he was shocked. He felt a peculiar bit of pride in holding the door for someone who could drink so much without falling to the floor in a comatose heap. She didn't even need any support! He had only a thimbleful the last time, and he still couldn't remember a single thing he did afterwards (although his friends often made joking accusations that he couldn't disprove).

As he indulged himself in thought, the woman stepped into the room and looked around. She quickly squinted from the bright morning sunlight streaming through a large window on the opposite wall. She couldn't make out too much detail, but she caught enough. This part of the Keep obviously wasn't used much; it lacked anywhere to sit other than an old dusty bench under the window. On both sides of the door were empty torch-holders. The room was surprisingly well lit by the sunlight, but it didn't illuminate everything. The corners were shadows, as was the south wall except for a doorway, from which a faint flickering glow emanated.

She focused her blurred eyes on the figure in the centre of the room. After a few uncomfortable moments, she blurted, "Heya, Duke Thomas, sir!" and bowed.

She didn't intend to fall prostrate to the floor. It just happened.

The soldier shook his head, mumbled his disappointment, and helped her back up.

The horse looked over her, noting her hair, her clothes, and the peculiar smell that could only be described as the underneath of a bar stool. Given what he knew of her past, it wasn't a big shock at all. But still... he hadn't expected _this_. She was far worse than what he expected. Now somewhat uncertain, he looked nervously over to dark doorway, in which now stood the silhouette of a large rabbit.

"Excuse me a moment," he said to the hammered woman, who was showing her appreciation to the guard by teaching him how to play Centurion.

With fake nonchalance, he walked over and asked the watcher, "Are you sure about this?"

"For the last time, yes," replied the rabbit irritably. "Stop asking me that, alright?"

Rushing back, he coughed to regain the woman's attention (although the clattering of his hooves was enough) and presented her with her mission:

"You, Julia Lightscale, have been a faithful Keeper for many years. Your deeds in the Battle of the Three Gates were," he paused uncertainly, "notable and extremely important to the well-being of everyone-"

"Why thank you, sir!" Julia interrupted. "You don't know how much I appreciate finally hearing this!"

Ignoring her, he continued, "and are the stuff of myth and legend. So in the light of your heroic history and ability-"

Noting that the horse was ignoring what she had to say, she quickly shot out, "This isn't about my granduncle, is it?"

"Who? No, no just a second, please."

Duke Thomas looked over to the hare, who shrugged and continued gnawing a carrot.

"That is to say." He stopped, having lost the thread he was on. Giving up, he began, "Anyway, the people of Metamor desperately need your services once again. It is your vitally important mission to take this document" with that he flourished a sheepskin scroll with gold trim "and present it to King ____ of the Pyralian Kingdoms.

Julia stared at the scroll for a while, her hand suspended over the wood bottle. Quickly enough, she made the only decision she could - she didn't really have a choice. It was an order from her king.

That done, she looked up and said, "Yes, your majesty! I'm your man!"

He let that pass and said, "Thank you. I request that you leave on this all-important mission immediately. The guard shall bring you everything you need for your mission."

"Do I get a horse?"

"No," the Duke said flatly.

Julia stared at the equine figure of royalty for a while, watching him shift from one foot to the other. Then she uncorked the flask and took a quick drink (the guard behind her winced). Unnoticed to her, a few drops spilled on the floor and started eating away at the stone.

With a lightening fast salute and a rather fiendish grin, she slurred, "Yessir! Onnamywaysir!"

She turned around and walked quickly to the door. The guard lead her out of sight to where her supplies were waiting.

After the door closed, Duke Thomas Hassan the Fifth stared at the patch of smoking floor. With a pleading tone he yelled, "You're sure, right, Phil? Absolutely sure?"

The rabbit walked in, rubbed his fur, sniffed the air a bit, switched the carrot to his other paw, and, really, didn't reply at all. He awkwardly patted his friend on the shoulder with his large forepaw, and told him not to worry.

The two of them walked over to the other room, where Phil said, "Come on, let's have a drink! Thordis? Would you please get a Jack Strafford for myself and a vodka for the duke? And something for yourself, of course."

User:Thaeus/soj/prelude

2008-06-19T06:23:54Z

Thaeus:

== The Saga of Julia: Prelude ==

=== A FEW WEEKS BEFORE THE WINTER SOLSTICE ===

It was cold outside; the Winter Solstice was only a few short weeks away. Under the still and empty light of a half-moon, a girl, escorted by a friend, walked into the great and puzzling edifice known as Metamor Keep. Her tear-stained eyes were mostly closed, opening only occasionally out of a passive interest in where she was going. The destination didn't matter.

They walked north through the Outer Gate without much trouble. The gate was inexplicably still open at this hour, and the guard, satisfied that they weren't lutins, waved them through without a problem. The Middle Gate was even easier - her friend knew the guard on duty.

Continuing on their way, they walked north through the town. The snow covered houses and shops looked rather attractive to her chaperon, but she didn't give them a glance. They continued north through the snow-covered streets to the Keep Proper.

The third gate, the Inner Gate, presented little trouble either. The guards were playing a card game. Two of them were quite obviously drunk, and likely trying to relieve the monotony of a late-night shift. This did not reflect well on them half-an-hour later.

Perhaps she knew where she was going after all - she shrugged off his help and took the lead. Her stumbling steps steadied, and led deep into the Lower Keep to a stairway her companion had never seen before. He slowed down and stopped - it was likely that it led up into a tower, and neither of them had leave to enter. To his dismay, she entered, and he had no choice but to follow. He just couldn't leave her alone.

The steps ended, amazingly enough, at a completely empty room. There was a large glass window facing the north with a view encompassing the snowy gardens, the thick castle walls, and the valley and mountains to the north. The beautiful scenery, especially the northern mountains, reminded her of some things and unpleasant issues that she hadn't thought of for years.

But it took her away again... she dropped her backpack onto the floor and just stared out the window. She was mesmerized by the lull of the night, and the smells that filled the air. She leaned out next to the glass, and let drift her despair.

Patiently, quietly, she waited for the dawn.

{{Separator}}

=== THREE-AND-A-HALF YEARS AGO ===

"Send her in," he said in tones of grave importance.

"Yes, sir!" replied the guard, who was sufficiently unnerved. He pulled open one of the two large doors and beckoned for the haggard woman waiting out in the hall to come in.

He watched her patiently as she staggered in. Her hair was long and brown and in a state of disarray. It looked like the death of combs. Her face was unblemished, but her eyes were red and had bags. The clothes she wore were alright -- a pair of black pants and a red short-sleeved shirt but a bit dirty and frayed, and certainly not something to wear for such an important meeting. On the other hand, it was quite possible that she had no idea what she was getting into.

She looked rather worn-out. He felt a bit of pity for her.

In her right hand she held a wooden corked flask. In a lightning movement, she brought the bottle to her lips and drank several mouthfuls.

Shock replaced his pity. He recognized the smell right away - that was some of Donnie's good stuff! Although he had only tried that particular poison twice over the past three years, he still immediately recognized it. The stuff, as it was affectionately known, was very special, and according to popular rumour could only be brewed during the first full moon after the Autumn Equinox. All he knew for certain were that it was extremely hard to get hold of, and after Donnie deemed it ready for public consumption (it required a lengthy period of aging), all his regulars would be bedridden for nearly a week.

The stuff was made from apples well, mostly apples. It was true about having to keep it in a wooden cup, too.

No wonder she was staggering! And yet, still, she was standing up and on her feet, and for that alone he was shocked. He felt a peculiar bit of pride in holding the door for someone who could drink so much without falling to the floor in a comatose heap. She didn't even need any support! He had only a thimbleful the last time, and he still couldn't remember a single thing he did afterwards (although his friends often made joking accusations that he couldn't disprove).

As he indulged himself in thought, the woman stepped into the room and looked around. She quickly squinted from the bright morning sunlight streaming through a large window on the opposite wall. She couldn't make out too much detail, but she caught enough. This part of the Keep obviously wasn't used much; it lacked anywhere to sit other than an old dusty bench under the window. On both sides of the door were empty torch-holders. The room was surprisingly well lit by the sunlight, but it didn't illuminate everything. The corners were shadows, as was the south wall except for a doorway, from which a faint flickering glow emanated.

She focused her blurred eyes on the figure in the centre of the room. After a few uncomfortable moments, she blurted, "Heya, Duke Thomas, sir!" and bowed.

She didn't intend to fall prostrate to the floor. It just happened.

The soldier shook his head, mumbled his disappointment, and helped her back up.

The horse looked over her, noting her hair, her clothes, and the peculiar smell that could only be described as the underneath of a bar stool. Given what he knew of her past, it wasn't a big shock at all. But still... he hadn't expected _this_. She was far worse than what he expected. Now somewhat uncertain, he looked nervously over to dark doorway, in which now stood the silhouette of a large rabbit.

"Excuse me a moment," he said to the hammered woman, who was showing her appreciation to the guard by teaching him how to play Centurion.

With fake nonchalance, he walked over and asked the watcher, "Are you sure about this?"

"For the last time, yes," replied the rabbit irritably. "Stop asking me that, alright?"

Rushing back, he coughed to regain the woman's attention (although the clattering of his hooves was enough) and presented her with her mission:

"You, Julia Lightscale, have been a faithful Keeper for many years. Your deeds in the Battle of the Three Gates were," he paused uncertainly, "notable and extremely important to the well-being of everyone-"

"Why thank you, sir!" Julia interrupted. "You don't know how much I appreciate finally hearing this!"

Ignoring her, he continued, "and are the stuff of myth and legend. So in the light of your heroic history and ability-"

Noting that the horse was ignoring what she had to say, she quickly shot out, "This isn't about my granduncle, is it?"

"Who? No, no just a second, please."

Duke Thomas looked over to the hare, who shrugged and continued gnawing a carrot.

"That is to say." He stopped, having lost the thread he was on. Giving up, he began, "Anyway, the people of Metamor desperately need your services once again. It is your vitally important mission to take this document" with that he flourished a sheepskin scroll with gold trim "and present it to King ____ of the Pyralian Kingdoms.

Julia stared at the scroll for a while, her hand suspended over the wood bottle. Quickly enough, she made the only decision she could - she didn't really have a choice. It was an order from her king.

That done, she looked up and said, "Yes, your majesty! I'm your man!"

He let that pass and said, "Thank you. I request that you leave on this all-important mission immediately. The guard shall bring you everything you need for your mission."

"Do I get a horse?"

"No," the Duke said flatly.

Julia stared at the equine figure of royalty for a while, watching him shift from one foot to the other. Then she uncorked the flask and took a quick drink (the guard behind her winced). Unnoticed to her, a few drops spilled on the floor and started eating away at the stone.

With a lightening fast salute and a rather fiendish grin, she slurred, "Yessir! Onnamywaysir!"

She turned around and walked quickly to the door. The guard lead her out of sight to where her supplies were waiting.

After the door closed, Duke Thomas Hassan the Fifth stared at the patch of smoking floor. With a pleading tone he yelled, "You're sure, right, Phil? Absolutely sure?"

The rabbit walked in, rubbed his fur, sniffed the air a bit, switched the carrot to his other paw, and, really, didn't reply at all. He awkwardly patted his friend on the shoulder with his large forepaw, and told him not to worry.

The two of them walked over to the other room, where Phil said, "Come on, let's have a drink! Thordis? Would you please get a Jack Strafford for myself and a vodka for the duke? And something for yourself, of course."

User:Thaeus/soj/prelude

2008-06-19T06:20:26Z

Thaeus:

== The Saga of Julia: Prelude ==

=== A FEW WEEKS BEFORE THE WINTER SOLSTICE ===

It was cold outside; the Winter Solstice was only a few short weeks away. Under the still and empty light of a half-moon, a girl, escorted by a friend, walked into the great and puzzling edifice known as Metamor Keep. Her tear-stained eyes were mostly closed, opening only occasionally out of a passive interest in where she was going. The destination didn't matter.

They walked north through the Outer Gate without much trouble. The gate was inexplicably still open at this hour, and the guard, satisfied that they weren't lutins, waved them through without a problem. The Middle Gate was even easier - her friend knew the guard on duty.

Continuing on their way, they walked north through the town. The snow covered houses and shops looked rather attractive to her chaperon, but she didn't give them a glance. They continued north through the snow-covered streets to the Keep Proper.

The third gate, the Inner Gate, presented little trouble either. The guards were playing a card game. Two of them were quite obviously drunk, and likely trying to relieve the monotony of a late-night shift. This did not reflect well on them half-an-hour later.

Perhaps she knew where she was going after all - she shrugged off his help and took the lead. Her stumbling steps steadied, and led deep into the Lower Keep to a stairway her companion had never seen before. He slowed down and stopped - it was likely that it led up into a tower, and neither of them had leave to enter. To his dismay, she entered, and he had no choice but to follow. He just couldn't leave her alone.

The steps ended, amazingly enough, at a completely empty room. There was a large glass window facing the north with a view encompassing the snowy gardens, the thick castle walls, and the valley and mountains to the north. The beautiful scenery, especially the northern mountains, reminded her of some things and unpleasant issues that she hadn't thought of for years.

But it took her away again... she dropped her backpack onto the floor and just stared out the window. She was mesmerized by the lull of the night, and the smells that filled the air. She leaned out next to the glass, and let drift her despair.

Patiently, quietly, she waited for the dawn.

=== THREE-AND-A-HALF YEARS AGO ===

"Send her in," he said in tones of grave importance.

"Yes, sir!" replied the guard, who was sufficiently unnerved. He pulled open one of the two large doors and beckoned for the haggard woman waiting out in the hall to come in.

He watched her patiently as she staggered in. Her hair was long and brown and in a state of disarray. It looked like the death of combs. Her face was unblemished, but her eyes were red and had bags. The clothes she wore were alright -- a pair of black pants and a red short-sleeved shirt but a bit dirty and frayed, and certainly not something to wear for such an important meeting. On the other hand, it was quite possible that she had no idea what she was getting into.

She looked rather worn-out. He felt a bit of pity for her.

In her right hand she held a wooden corked flask. In a lightning movement, she brought the bottle to her lips and drank several mouthfuls.

Shock replaced his pity. He recognized the smell right away - that was some of Donnie's good stuff! Although he had only tried that particular poison twice over the past three years, he still immediately recognized it. The stuff, as it was affectionately known, was very special, and according to popular rumour could only be brewed during the first full moon after the Autumn Equinox. All he knew for certain were that it was extremely hard to get hold of, and after Donnie deemed it ready for public consumption (it required a lengthy period of aging), all his regulars would be bedridden for nearly a week.

The stuff was made from apples well, mostly apples. It was true about having to keep it in a wooden cup, too.

No wonder she was staggering! And yet, still, she was standing up and on her feet, and for that alone he was shocked. He felt a peculiar bit of pride in holding the door for someone who could drink so much without falling to the floor in a comatose heap. She didn't even need any support! He had only a thimbleful the last time, and he still couldn't remember a single thing he did afterwards (although his friends often made joking accusations that he couldn't disprove).

As he indulged himself in thought, the woman stepped into the room and looked around. She quickly squinted from the bright morning sunlight streaming through a large window on the opposite wall. She couldn't make out too much detail, but she caught enough. This part of the Keep obviously wasn't used much; it lacked anywhere to sit other than an old dusty bench under the window. On both sides of the door were empty torch-holders. The room was surprisingly well lit by the sunlight, but it didn't illuminate everything. The corners were shadows, as was the south wall except for a doorway, from which a faint flickering glow emanated.

She focused her blurred eyes on the figure in the centre of the room. After a few uncomfortable moments, she blurted, "Heya, Duke Thomas, sir!" and bowed.

She didn't intend to fall prostrate to the floor. It just happened.

The soldier shook his head, mumbled his disappointment, and helped her back up.

The horse looked over her, noting her hair, her clothes, and the peculiar smell that could only be described as the underneath of a bar stool. Given what he knew of her past, it wasn't a big shock at all. But still... he hadn't expected _this_. She was far worse than what he expected. Now somewhat uncertain, he looked nervously over to dark doorway, in which now stood the silhouette of a large rabbit.

"Excuse me a moment," he said to the hammered woman, who was showing her appreciation to the guard by teaching him how to play Centurion.

With fake nonchalance, he walked over and asked the watcher, "Are you sure about this?"

"For the last time, yes," replied the rabbit irritably. "Stop asking me that, alright?"

Rushing back, he coughed to regain the woman's attention (although the clattering of his hooves was enough) and presented her with her mission:

"You, Julia Lightscale, have been a faithful Keeper for many years. Your deeds in the Battle of the Three Gates were," he paused uncertainly, "notable and extremely important to the well-being of everyone-"

"Why thank you, sir!" Julia interrupted. "You don't know how much I appreciate finally hearing this!"

Ignoring her, he continued, "and are the stuff of myth and legend. So in the light of your heroic history and ability-"

Noting that the horse was ignoring what she had to say, she quickly shot out, "This isn't about my granduncle, is it?"

"Who? No, no just a second, please."

Duke Thomas looked over to the hare, who shrugged and continued gnawing a carrot.

"That is to say." He stopped, having lost the thread he was on. Giving up, he began, "Anyway, the people of Metamor desperately need your services once again. It is your vitally important mission to take this document" with that he flourished a sheepskin scroll with gold trim "and present it to King ____ of the Pyralian Kingdoms.

Julia stared at the scroll for a while, her hand suspended over the wood bottle. Quickly enough, she made the only decision she could - she didn't really have a choice. It was an order from her king.

That done, she looked up and said, "Yes, your majesty! I'm your man!"

He let that pass and said, "Thank you. I request that you leave on this all-important mission immediately. The guard shall bring you everything you need for your mission."

"Do I get a horse?"

"No," the Duke said flatly.

Julia stared at the equine figure of royalty for a while, watching him shift from one foot to the other. Then she uncorked the flask and took a quick drink (the guard behind her winced). Unnoticed to her, a few drops spilled on the floor and started eating away at the stone.

With a lightening fast salute and a rather fiendish grin, she slurred, "Yessir! Onnamywaysir!"

She turned around and walked quickly to the door. The guard lead her out of sight to where her supplies were waiting.

After the door closed, Duke Thomas Hassan the Fifth stared at the patch of smoking floor. With a pleading tone he yelled, "You're sure, right, Phil? Absolutely sure?"

The rabbit walked in, rubbed his fur, sniffed the air a bit, switched the carrot to his other paw, and, really, didn't reply at all. He awkwardly patted his friend on the shoulder with his large forepaw, and told him not to worry.

The two of them walked over to the other room, where Phil said, "Come on, let's have a drink! Thordis? Would you please get a Jack Strafford for myself and a vodka for the duke? And something for yourself, of course."

User:Thaeus

2008-06-19T06:19:14Z

Thaeus: /* The Saga of Julia */

== Yarr ==

This is a commercial for my army and my navy. 
This is a rehearsal for all the empty promises I will be. 
I won't let you down. 
Done letting you down.

== Writing ==

So, uh, writing. I'm going to dump stories that haven't actually gone anywhere in here.

=== Unfinished ===

==== The Saga of Julia ====

Oy, I guess I had better explain...

In the fall of 1999 (nearly ten years ago!) I took an English course at university about Heroic Literature, and it was actually really, really awesome. We studied Icelandic sagas, ''Don Quixote'', ''American Psycho'' (as an anti-hero), ''Gargantua and Pantagruel'', ''The Life and Adventures of Tristam Shandy'', and other stuff I don't remember anymore. For the purpose of the course we defined a hero as a larger than life person who embodies their world, so talked about how Patrick Bateman represents the excesses and shallowness of 1980s Wall Street, or Gisli the life and adventures of the old Norse, and so on.

In the stories that play heroes straight up, they usually follow an arc: some sort of remarkable entrance into the world, a string of greater and greater successes, and then, ultimately, they go too far. Probably the most prototypical was ''Gisli's Saga'', which I almost certainly do not remember correctly. But I ''think'' what happens is that the nephews of the King of Norway do something to his relatives, so he retaliates and kills them, and as a result goes on the run. Ultimately he tries to forment a rebellion against King Harald and gets killed.

So with that bubbling in my mind, plus the anti-hero of Egil, the unreliable narrator of ''American Psycho'', and the odd experiments in form of ''Tristan Shandy'', and the vague desire to do some silly writing again, I came up with the Saga of Julia.

It's an MK story. I like to think the characters have their own voices, even if I haven't let them say much over the years.

I'm posting this here in the desire to get back in action and finish off these stories. I'm probably going to throw out what I have and start from scratch, since I'm not who I was back then. But here it is.

Yarr.

[[User:Thaeus/soj/prelude|Prelude]] 
[[User:Thaeus/soj/e1|Episode 1 - A Tia in the Road]] 
[[User:Thaeus/soj/e2|Episode 2 - "Umm ... Which Way is Midtown?"]]

User:Thaeus/soj/e2

2008-06-19T05:49:01Z

Thaeus: New page: == The Saga of Julia == === Episode Two - "Umm ... Which Way is Midtown?" === '''SIX DAYS AFTER THE SUMMER SOLSTICE, 704 CR''' "What?" "You heard me! Which way is Midtown!" "I don't ...

== The Saga of Julia ==

=== Episode Two - "Umm ... Which Way is Midtown?" ===

'''SIX DAYS AFTER THE SUMMER SOLSTICE, 704 CR'''

"What?"

"You heard me! Which way is Midtown!"

"I don't know," said Tia.

"Dammit and there aren't any signs!"

Julia glared at the nonexistent signs.

Out of nowhere the girl blurted, "I am Tia!"

"Sorry, say what? Stop doing that!"

Tia gave Julia a nasty stare that Julia ignored without hesitation. She realized that her only remaining tactic at this point was to sigh and give up.

"So... Tia, because that is your name, as you've told me repeatedly, lets just stay here and wait for someone to come by."

"Fine. I'll nap."

Tia was tired; Julia had planned to spend last night at Laselle, but to Tia's disappointment and Julia's urgency, they left in a hurry. The sole lesson Julia learned from the rather short stop-over was that Lasalle had a population of nasty girls - even worse than those at the Keep, who regularly gave her odd looks while Julia attempted to apply her finesse with the ladies.

When they arrived at Laselle, the sun was already set, the air releavingly cool, and the local watering-hole filled to capacity. Julia, wanting a familiar environment and a chance to meet some decent women (as opposed to Metamorian canaries), immediately dragged Tia ("Julia! Sleep! Now! Come on!") to a bar called "Ye Olde Stinkhole".

The story of how Ye Olde Stinkhole got its name is one of the more endearing legends of the region:

Nearly 500 years ago, when Prince Ovid drove the Lutins from the Midlands, an enchantress on her way to ____(need name for a place. More details on that appended to the end of this e-mail, unless, of course, I forget, which is quite possible at this hour of the night. Anyway---)___ stopped at his encampment by the river, which earlier he had modestly named Ovid's Twenty-Third River (but that never took). His soldiers, recognizing her for what she was, took the lady to the prince's presence. She gazed upon him and saw that he was good. With a voice like that of the ancient gods, he asked, "What have you to tell me of my future?"

In reply, she told him to pick up three rocks from the ground. He did as he asked and handed her the tokens.

"This, the first rock, is a piece of granite. Your strength and might are as great and unstoppable as the mountains, and shall serve you well for all your life!

"This, the second rock, is a piece of jade washed down by the mountain river." He grunted but didn't say anything. "A great miracle is in your future, and it will be repeated in song and story for aeons!

"This, the third rock', is a chunk of hard moss that only looks like a rock. You should not wear gauntlets all the time, or you will never be married."

With the she nodded her head and vanished, reappearing a mile or so north of the camp, where a errant soldier was setting a snare. He leered at her and rudely asked her to take it all off. Recognizing his depravity for what it was, she did a blessing upon the world and transformed him into a benefit to society; a place of rest and relaxation; a place where wearied men can go for comfort. A tavern.

Unfortunately, he had a body odour problem.

Last night, while Tia sat bitterly in a quiet, dark corner underneath a mounted boar's head, wondering exactly what that omnipresent smell was, and when she would get to sleep, Julia systematically "put the moves on" every single woman possible. It turned out, much to her chagrin, that they were all canaries - in fact, they were worse than the ones at Metamor! Whereas they would only shuffle away, these cruel Laselleans insulted her! One even slapped her! The only woman in the entire bar who didn't reject her advances was an old crone (who, it's important to note, Julia did not put the moves on), who stared at her grinning like a perverted toad.

The general animosity, the bartender asking her to buy something or get out, and the old woman successfully drove Julia from the bar. She, with Tia in tow, headed out to kinder, gentler towns with kinder, gentler bars. Perhaps in Midtown...

Tia, stumbling along down the track, asked Julia questions about Metamor Keep in an attempt to stay awake (Julia was used to keeping odd hours and completely alert). Feeling a might patriotic, Julia answered all of them as best she could:

Metamor Keep was founded a long time ago by Prince Ovid, who did some stuff that isn't really mentioning and got killed for it, passing on the crown to Thomas the First, who apparently was a really nice guy and founded The Deaf Mule, although Julia didn't have a clue as to how he knew that Donnie would take over a couple hundred years later. Anyway, he fought a couple of wars, died, and passed the throne to Lord Thomas the Second, who didn't really do anything. Then some time went by and nothing really happened. Some more time passed, and nothing really happened, or nothing important anyway. Then Donnie's granddad discovered the secret of the good stuff, which must be brewed under the first full after the Autumn Equinox. A couple big parties were held. Afterward, Duke Thomas the whatever nearly executed Donnie's dad's dad for the breakdown in the social order of the Keep, so he promised not to brew anymore, but the secret was passed on to Donnie's dad and Donnie, who now makes it for his preferred clientele. Anyway, Duke Thomas the Fifth came to power and Julia was in his army, and that was a lot of fun. About three years ago that bastard Nasoj invaded. It was a glorious victory for the Metamorians. They thoroughly kicked his ass, and he left with his tail between his legs, although various other people also ended up with tails between their legs too. Julia remembered fighting twenty Lutins with her close, personal friend who is now an alligator. They completely humiliated Nasoj's elite force and single-handedly forced them out.

Anyway, after that Nasoj cast a spell that did weird, crazy stuff, and Julia passed out. She woke up a few days later with what felt like a nasty hangover.

That was the end of Julia's story. Tia had a suspicion that it wasn't quite accurate, and that it skipped over several crucial details, but she didn't know enough to say anything.

And while the sun creeped up over the edge of the sky, they came to a fork in both the river and the road. The track continued straight ahead, then one branch crosses the river to the river, and the other continued to the left. Immediately past the bridge on their side of the stream was a grove of evergreens, and the river bank beside was rocky and grassless. On the other side of the water and the bridge was a large rock with no symbolic or spiritual reason at all. It was just there.

And that brings us to where we began. Tia decided not to nap after all - instead, she wandered off into the grove, took off her boots, and dangled her legs in the river in the attempt to hold on to her battered consciousness for another few minutes.

It worked well. Unfortunately, the effect didn't last long. She slouched on her perch on the bank, eyes closed.

A cart came, heading south. Julia stepped out into the middle of the track and stopped the wagon.

The driver glanced through the trees. "Hey, help your friend!"

She looked over through the trees to where Tia was sputtering and splashing in the water.

"Tia," she yelled, "you alright?"

The girl splashed about in the water and grabbed onto the rocky bank. Julia couldn't see her face, but heard the reply: "I'm fine!", and traces of mumbling afterwards.

As Tia pulled herself up the bank, Julia turned to the driver, who was giving her odd looks. The clothes he wore were varying shades of brown, all faded, and on his head he wore a black hat with a very wide brim. His mule-led wagon contained a pile of several large sacks of grain from the farms of Lord Loriod hidden beneath a blanket.

"What are you doin' out here?"

A little blunt, eh? "We're on our way to Midtown. Do you know the way?"

"I'll give you two a lift," - he watched Tia walk up - "I'm goin' there myself. Hop on!"

"Much appreciated. Come on, Tia, climb on!"

"Is there anyone else with you?"

"No, no, just the two of us."

Tia, still soaking wet, hopped up into the back of the cart and ducked under the dusty blanket to get some shut-eye. Her companion, however, climbed up and sat beside the driver.

"Hello," she said, "I'm Julia."

"I'm Lawrence. Pleased to meet'cha. Tell her not to get the grain wet."

Julia had a few mostly ignored words with Tia, who was blissfully slipping into a midday nap. As she tried to get her point across, their host led his donkey down the left fork.

She gave up after Tia stopped snoring, and returned back to the front. Before she had a chance to sit down, Lawrence asked her exactly what she and Tia were doing out here alone: "So, what are you two doin'?"

It was about noon, and the sun beamed down like a benediction. The road they followed meandered calmly through the forested hills common of the Midlands. A giddy breeze flirted through the trees, dancing amongst the trunks, touching all the leaves, and jumping across the track. A few birds filled the air with competing bursts of song. From the back came the sounds of Tia sleeping rather uncomfortably.

Julia replied: "I'm heading south to Pyralis, but first I'm going to drop off Tia" - she gestured to the sleeping form - "in Midtown."

"Really? Why the __________ (MK synonym for hell) are you going down there? I heard they eat horses down there!"

Julia grinned. "When you're hungry, you're hungry, eh?"

Her host frowned and replied, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you know... well, it's not that surprizing, really... if it's true. More hygenic than eating rats, anyway. Nothing's coming to mind, but I'm sure I've seen weirder... okay, scratch that, I know I've seen weirder."

Noting the faraway look in her eyes, Lawrence smiled and knowingly said, "Ah, everyone says that 'bout their family."

A particularly loud snore came from the back.

Julia looked at the trail ahead. The road at this point was quite straight - the earlier foothills of the northern mountains had settled to a much more even keel, with the only ravines and ditches formed by rivers. The everpresent forest had chunks of farmland carved out of it, although she couldn't see any farmers about. The sun was high in the sky, and once again it was cloudless.

It was hot.

The road continued past a cottage on a field, and turned right at a patch of trees.

"Hey, are you sure she's from Midtown? I've never seen her before, and she looks kinda weird..."

"I dunno, she's not from around Metamor, that's for sure, she doesn't know that area at all, and-"

"Hold it! You mean you're from the cursed keep?!"

"You know, Metamor!"

"'Cursed keep'? What's that about!?"

He vaguely waved his hands about. "You know, the talking monsters, walking 'round like they own the place! I heard the king's a horse! And them nasty foul-mouthed children who spend all their time at the bars drinking and not doin' a decent thing..."

Is he talking about Ryerson? Man, I remember that night we got Donnie to let us play Down the Donkey, and after he kicked everyone out, a group of us got together and played that weird version of Thumper...

"...and that's why that castle is evil! And cursed! Filled with those nasty (and rather tempting)-" he stuttered "- seductoressesses, who l-lead you around and give you a tour and then take off like you were a mangy mutt! The way they laugh, the way they smile, the way they just shoot you down! Bitches!"

"WHAT!?" Julia yelled.

"WOULD YOU BOTH PLEASE SHUT UP!! PLEASE!? ohsomeonejustkillme..."

Tia stuffed the tarp in her ears and tried to get back to sleep.

In the meantime, Julia and Lawrence were getting into an argument, consisting chiefly of yelling vaguely contradictory statements vaguely related to Metamor Keep vaguely in the direction of each other - they refused to look at each other, so they stared vaguely at the road.

"Well," Julia launched, "for starters, don't use the 'B'-word! Women are treasures meant to valued! ...Well, the ones that aren't canaries, at any rate. I'm sure they're out there!"

She ignored his vague reply relating the women of Metamor to a run-away cat that periodically returns to leave a dead bird in the stables (which really was a stupid comparision anyway), and continued onto her next point:

"As for Metamor, the 'monsters', the children, and so on..." She paused for a moment and took a swig of the bottle she had appropiated the day before from Tia. "Well, it's all for a good reason! If it weren't for the Keep, that bastard Nasoj would be down here, tellin' us what to do, and makin' us farm, and..." She took another drink. "And we'd all be dead!"

She proceeded to make numerous accusations against Nasoj based on tales she had heard in Metamor and elsewhere, he continued decrying the castle as an abomination, and Tia slowly counted under her breath.

Eventually the two differing threads petered out.

"32742!"

"What was that, Tia?"

"Nothing!"

User:Thaeus/soj/e1

2008-06-19T05:47:45Z

Thaeus: New page: == The Saga of Julia == === Episode 1 - A Tia in the Road === '''FIVE DAYS AFTER THE SUMMER SOLSTICE, 704 CR''' A cool breeze along the trail provided a welcome respite from the swelter...

== The Saga of Julia ==

=== Episode 1 - A Tia in the Road ===

'''FIVE DAYS AFTER THE SUMMER SOLSTICE, 704 CR'''

A cool breeze along the trail provided a welcome respite from the sweltering summer sun, while a pair of blackbirds danced in the cloudless sky, swooping along in fanciful loops and arcs, providing two lonelyshadows from the cloudless sky. Together they took off vaguely southwards towards the sea, passing over patchy forests and a patchy dirt road, onwhich someone dedicating a bit too much of her brain for cursing themidday sun, the stifling heat, and the utter lack of drink, walked.

Julia Lightscale crested a small hill in the road overlooking thelands about: the ubiquitous forest, the mountains (both east and west),the meandering path to the south, and that great giant edifice to thenorth. Noticing this, she stopped and took the opportunity to get her first good look at Metamor ever.

The Keep was her home, of sorts, for the past five years. In all that time she hadn't once left it (twice she was drafted for patrol duty, but upon arriving at the armory after staggering from the Deaf Mule her commanding officer immediately discharged her). From this distance it looked like it had grown out of the ground like a collection of ornate and delicate marble stalagmites, with towers and buildings arranged in a cluster fighting each other to reach the sky. Her impression was that it was a large group of weird rocks piled up on top of each other, which from a strictly literal perspective was true.

She really didn't want to leave. If she had an option, she'd be getting lunch at Donnie's right now, and more likely than not, he'd be giving her the impression that she really ought to go home sometime. But, and this is the important thing, she'd have a delicious steak in front of her and a something cold to drink in her left hand - she wouldn't be here hungry, thirsty, and alone.

Alone... She already missed the Keep, and Donnie, and her fellow barflies, and for that matter, her nice tidy room filled with a multitude of barrels of Donnie's good stuff she had taken pains to acquire last fall. She also missed the way people of all sorts ran around doing all the important business while she could lay back and enjoy life. It's amazing how much she had come to really on her fellow bar-mates - they were nearly her family, though not quite.

But those thoughts weren't uppermost in her mind. As said earlier, most of her brain was dedicated to cursing the sun, the heat, and the lack of drink (specifically alcohol, although at this point she almost considered water acceptable).

Dammit! It's hot and dry and I'd kill for a drink!

Unfortunately, she reflected, I can't go back. I've gotta deliver some stupid little scroll to some weirdo way the hell down south, where it's even hotter than it is here. I bet they have deserts. I bet they don't have forests, or mountains. I've never actually seen a desert, or even a beach, but I have a damn good idea just what they are, and they aren't interesting at all.

Shortly after leaving the Keep, she had opened and looked at the scroll. It was bare except for some strange markings scrawled across the top, which she guessed were the Pyralic tongue. Whatever she was delivering, it was a pretty short message.

She stopped for a moment to adjust her plain utilitarian backpack. The straps rubbed and dug into her shoulders. For the fifth time, she dropped it to the ground and rubbed the blood back into her shoulders.

The endemic thirst got to her again. Without really thinking about it, she reached down, pulled out a wooden flask she won in a poker match, uncorked it, and rediscovered in a burst of irritation that it was empty. This time she noticed that the dry wood had cracked in the heat and therefore her trusty container was now officially worthless.

"Damn it!"

She threw it into the bushes, which absorbed it with barely a rustle, not the satisfying crack or crash she hoped for. While staring into the bush, both a groan and a sign crept out of her gaping mouth. Standing up, she reflected that at least her shoulders felt better.

It was time to go again. She grabbed her bag and this time carried it in her left hand - a rather off balance position, but it wasn't too bad and her shoulders were near declaring mutiny. After a bit, she managed to ignore her thirst and enjoy the walk in the sun, the rustling of leaves, and the squirrels hiding between the tree-roots, but when she absent-mindedly reached down for the bottle again, the mood was broken.

"Damn! That's it! I'll even drink water!"

There was only one main road from Metamor to the cities to the south. A few other tributaries branched off through the forest, but there was effectively no choice when heading to and from Metamor. Thus, Julia should not have been quite so surprized when she rounded the bend and ran into someone unexpectedly.

Sitting back against a tree by the side of the road was a rather peculiar girl.

She was short - if she stood up, she'd only reach Julia's shoulders. She had short brown hair, pointed ears, and a big grin on her face. Her clothes were both bright and colourful - mostly pink and purple - a definite contrast to the browns and greens of nature around her. Over her right shoulder was something, but Julia couldn't see what.

"Uh, hey, what are you doing here? And more importantly, do you have something to drink?"

"Hi!" the girl in the road said in a perky, high tone of voice. I am Tia!"

"That's good, now do you have something to drink?

The girl sprang upwards. "And you are?"

"I'm Julia. Now, you wouldn't happen to have anything with you..."

The girl quickly stepped onto the road and released the bag slung over her shoulder. It was decorated with bright colours and purple fringe, and seemed very out of place lying on the dirt. Squatting, she untied the knot on the top and pulled out a silver capped cubic container with a spout sticking out the top.

"Here you go!" she said and offered it to Julia, who snatched and unstopped the box and immediately began chugging. After her thirst subsided enough, she pried her lips off of it and yelled, "What the hell? This is water!"

"Yes! Water is good to drink!"

"You kinda stupid, aren't you? I want something to" - with emphasis on the last word - "drink!"

The girl ignored that and asked, "Is Metamor Keep that way?"

Confused, Julia scratched her head and replied, "Um, yes, yes it is."

"Well I'm going the other way!" Her inflection made it sound like a bright, positive, and cheery statement... one that barely made sense, but sounded nice all the same.

Julia became a bit more concerned. "That was Tia, right? What are you doing out here?"

Once again, the girl ignored her. She started climbing the largest tree by the road. On her way up she disturbed two blue jays, a squirrel, a racoon, a hornets nest, and a pair of socks someone had left up there years ago. She poked her head out of the canopy and looked up over the castle.

"So that's Metamor Keep! It doesn't look like a multifoliate rose at all!"

"What? Um, no, it doesn't. A rose, anyway."

The girl jumped down and pointed at a little clearing on the other side of the road baking in the sun. With a gesture: "This is where a signal tower is going to go." She turned back around to face Julia and noticed the blank stare as well as Julia's general state.

"You look weird and tired."

"Of course I am! I've been walking all day, I have a hangover, and I don't have anything to drink! No, water does not count! So of course I'm bloody weird and tired'!"

In anger, she threw down her military backpack and threw the silver bottle into a bush with shining green leaves. A few choked breaths later, she started crying.

Julia was a wreck. Her hair was tangled, as usual, full of split ends, as usual, but now leaves were added to the mix. She wasn't vain, but for some reason that was really bothering her. Her dusty black pants and shirt, which she had worn since seeing the Duke in the morning, were now quite clammy. After the meeting, she didn't have any time to go to her room and collect any of her stuff. Besides lacking a change of clothes (she had three sets which she alternated roughly on a monthly basis), she missed her barrels of that sweet, sweet alcohol she longed for. Just three flasks - that's all she wanted! Courtesy of Duke Thomas, she had a spare outfit stowed away in her pack that would have made her somewhat more presentable, but it was to be saved for when she met the King of Pyralis. Besides, it would have been too hot to wear and, considering her luck, probably dirty already.

"Damn you, good and just and fair Duke Thomas Hassan the Fifth! I'm going to miss Joyous and Boisterous Hour thanks to you!"

The girl from nowhere looked at her sympathetically. "You have the pantagruel, don't you?" She pulled out another flask from her backpack, identical to the first, and handed it to Julia, who stared at it quizzically, sniffed it, then slammed it back.

"That's better... oh yeah!"

She leaned back and let the alcohol (or so she it assumed it to be) take effect. Amazingly enough, it had the effect of stabilizing her mental state. Somewhat. Unfortunately, she continued to drink and it started getting to her.

"You know what I need?" she said, then paused for a few seconds, thinking a bit and letting the drink get to her. She settled down against a tree as Tia watched her. At last she yelled out, "I need a woman! I haven't had one in years! They're all just" - she used her favourite euphemism - "canaries now!"

She waved the cubic container a bit to emphasize the point.

"I mean, I go to the bar, I get 'em some good stuff from Donnie, and that's hard to get, mind you, and we talk, we start hitting it off, we're laughing and having a good time and getting' along great, but when I ask if they want to go to my room with me they just give me that damn look and take off! What's up with that? I'm a hero, for crying out loud! Damn canaries!"

Tia didn't say anything, and didn't ask what a canary was. She had an idea, though, but she kept it to herself. Politeness is a virtue, after all.

"I hate that look! They all use it! It's like they're saying they're better than me, you know? I mean, how stuck up, eh?"

Something occurred to Julia. At this stage of inebriation, the act required both her eyes to widen and her mouth to flap up and down without any sounds coming out.

Finally, she collected her thoughts and said, "Tia, eh? What are ya doin' out here anyway? Don't you know that there are Lutins all over the damn place? I mean, I'm an old hero, so I'm not worried, but you're just a kid, and..." Her voice trailed off as she tried to think of a point.

"Tia don't worry bout Lutins!" the girl said in her cheery voice. At that she looked into the forest on both sides, and she wasn't concerned at all by what she saw. To an extent, she was relieved.

"Well, what are you doing out here? You're obviously not from Metamor, so, are you from..."

She had to think for a few moments. The local geography was not her strong point at all.

Tia interjected, "Midtown?"

"Yeah, there! I'd better get you home."

"Tia come along!"

Julia just stared for a moment.

"Uh, okay... well, lets get going. You do have more of this" - she pointed at the flask - "stuff, do you?"

User:Thaeus/soj/prelude

2008-06-19T05:44:12Z

Thaeus: New page: == The Saga of Julia == === Prelude === '''A FEW WEEKS BEFORE THE WINTER SOLSTICE''' It was cold outside; the Winter Solstice was only a few short weeks away. Under the still and empty ...

== The Saga of Julia ==
=== Prelude ===

'''A FEW WEEKS BEFORE THE WINTER SOLSTICE'''

It was cold outside; the Winter Solstice was only a few short weeks away. Under the still and empty light of a half-moon, a girl, escorted by a friend, walked into the great and puzzling edifice known as Metamor Keep. Her tear-stained eyes were mostly closed, opening only occasionally out of a passive interest in where she was going. The destination didn't matter.

They walked north through the Outer Gate without much trouble. The gate was inexplicably still open at this hour, and the guard, satisfied that they weren't lutins, waved them through without a problem. The Middle Gate was even easier - her friend knew the guard on duty.

Continuing on their way, they walked north through the town. The snow covered houses and shops looked rather attractive to her chaperon, but she didn't give them a glance. They continued north through the snow-covered streets to the Keep Proper.

The third gate, the Inner Gate, presented little trouble either. The guards were playing a card game. Two of them were quite obviously drunk, and likely trying to relieve the monotony of a late-night shift. This did not reflect well on them half-an-hour later.

Perhaps she knew where she was going after all - she shrugged off his help and took the lead. Her stumbling steps steadied, and led deep into the Lower Keep to a stairway her companion had never seen before. He slowed down and stopped - it was likely that it led up into a tower, and neither of them had leave to enter. To his dismay, she entered, and he had no choice but to follow. He just couldn't leave her alone.

The steps ended, amazingly enough, at a completely empty room. There was a large glass window facing the north with a view encompassing the snowy gardens, the thick castle walls, and the valley and mountains to the north. The beautiful scenery, especially the northern mountains, reminded her of some things and unpleasant issues that she hadn't thought of for years.

But it took her away again... she dropped her backpack onto the floor and just stared out the window. She was mesmerized by the lull of the night, and the smells that filled the air. She leaned out next to the glass, and let drift her despair.

Patiently, quietly, she waited for the dawn.

----

'''THREE-AND-A-HALF YEARS AGO'''

"Send her in," he said in tones of grave importance.

"Yes, sir!" replied the guard, who was sufficiently unnerved. He pulled open one of the two large doors and beckoned for the haggard woman waiting out in the hall to come in.

He watched her patiently as she staggered in. Her hair was long and brown and in a state of disarray. It looked like the death of combs. Her face was unblemished, but her eyes were red and had bags. The clothes she wore were alright -- a pair of black pants and a red short-sleeved shirt but a bit dirty and frayed, and certainly not something to wear for such an important meeting. On the other hand, it was quite possible that she had no idea what she was getting into.

She looked rather worn-out. He felt a bit of pity for her.

In her right hand she held a wooden corked flask. In a lightning movement, she brought the bottle to her lips and drank several mouthfuls.

Shock replaced his pity. He recognized the smell right away - that was some of Donnie's good stuff! Although he had only tried that particular poison twice over the past three years, he still immediately recognized it. The stuff, as it was affectionately known, was very special, and according to popular rumour could only be brewed during the first full moon after the Autumn Equinox. All he knew for certain were that it was extremely hard to get hold of, and after Donnie deemed it ready for public consumption (it required a lengthy period of aging), all his regulars would be bedridden for nearly a week.

The stuff was made from apples well, mostly apples. It was true about having to keep it in a wooden cup, too.

No wonder she was staggering! And yet, still, she was standing up and on her feet, and for that alone he was shocked. He felt a peculiar bit of pride in holding the door for someone who could drink so much without falling to the floor in a comatose heap. She didn't even need any support! He had only a thimbleful the last time, and he still couldn't remember a single thing he did afterwards (although his friends often made joking accusations that he couldn't disprove).

As he indulged himself in thought, the woman stepped into the room and looked around. She quickly squinted from the bright morning sunlight streaming through a large window on the opposite wall. She couldn't make out too much detail, but she caught enough. This part of the Keep obviously wasn't used much; it lacked anywhere to sit other than an old dusty bench under the window. On both sides of the door were empty torch-holders. The room was surprisingly well lit by the sunlight, but it didn't illuminate everything. The corners were shadows, as was the south wall except for a doorway, from which a faint flickering glow emanated.

She focused her blurred eyes on the figure in the centre of the room. After a few uncomfortable moments, she blurted, "Heya, Duke Thomas, sir!" and bowed.

She didn't intend to fall prostrate to the floor. It just happened.

The soldier shook his head, mumbled his disappointment, and helped her back up.

The horse looked over her, noting her hair, her clothes, and the peculiar smell that could only be described as the underneath of a bar stool. Given what he knew of her past, it wasn't a big shock at all. But still... he hadn't expected _this_. She was far worse than what he expected. Now somewhat uncertain, he looked nervously over to dark doorway, in which now stood the silhouette of a large rabbit.

"Excuse me a moment," he said to the hammered woman, who was showing her appreciation to the guard by teaching him how to play Centurion.

With fake nonchalance, he walked over and asked the watcher, "Are you sure about this?"

"For the last time, yes," replied the rabbit irritably. "Stop asking me that, alright?"

Rushing back, he coughed to regain the woman's attention (although the clattering of his hooves was enough) and presented her with her mission:

"You, Julia Lightscale, have been a faithful Keeper for many years. Your deeds in the Battle of the Three Gates were," he paused uncertainly, "notable and extremely important to the well-being of everyone-"

"Why thank you, sir!" Julia interrupted. "You don't know how much I appreciate finally hearing this!"

Ignoring her, he continued, "and are the stuff of myth and legend. So in the light of your heroic history and ability-"

Noting that the horse was ignoring what she had to say, she quickly shot out, "This isn't about my granduncle, is it?"

"Who? No, no just a second, please."

Duke Thomas looked over to the hare, who shrugged and continued gnawing a carrot.

"That is to say." He stopped, having lost the thread he was on. Giving up, he began, "Anyway, the people of Metamor desperately need your services once again. It is your vitally important mission to take this document" with that he flourished a sheepskin scroll with gold trim "and present it to King ____ of the Pyralian Kingdoms.

Julia stared at the scroll for a while, her hand suspended over the wood bottle. Quickly enough, she made the only decision she could - she didn't really have a choice. It was an order from her king.

That done, she looked up and said, "Yes, your majesty! I'm your man!"

He let that pass and said, "Thank you. I request that you leave on this all-important mission immediately. The guard shall bring you everything you need for your mission."

"Do I get a horse?"

"No," the Duke said flatly.

Julia stared at the equine figure of royalty for a while, watching him shift from one foot to the other. Then she uncorked the flask and took a quick drink (the guard behind her winced). Unnoticed to her, a few drops spilled on the floor and started eating away at the stone.

With a lightening fast salute and a rather fiendish grin, she slurred, "Yessir! Onnamywaysir!"

She turned around and walked quickly to the door. The guard lead her out of sight to where her supplies were waiting.

After the door closed, Duke Thomas Hassan the Fifth stared at the patch of smoking floor. With a pleading tone he yelled, "You're sure, right, Phil? Absolutely sure?"

The rabbit walked in, rubbed his fur, sniffed the air a bit, switched the carrot to his other paw, and, really, didn't reply at all. He awkwardly patted his friend on the shoulder with his large forepaw, and told him not to worry.

The two of them walked over to the other room, where Phil said, "Come on, let's have a drink! Thordis? Would you please get a Jack Strafford for myself and a vodka for the duke? And something for yourself, of course."

User:Thaeus

2008-06-19T05:41:57Z

Thaeus: /* The Saga of Julia */

User:Thaeus

2008-06-19T05:41:43Z

Thaeus: /* The Saga of Julia */

User:Thaeus

2008-06-19T05:40:40Z

Thaeus:

User:Thaeus

2008-06-19T05:34:03Z

Thaeus: New page: == Yarr == This is a commercial for my army and my navy. This is a rehearsal for all the empty promises I will be. I won't let you down. Done letting you down. == Writi...