The Good Old Times
1st Ymiden 720
Yrmellyn and Brent had each been sleeping and dreaming sound and safe non-lucid dreams until their sleeping minds went lucid in a surreal and unknown place. They had been asleep and had no idea how or why they had they had arrived, except (maybe) for vague memories of non-lucid dreams.
They had found themselves in a room with many doors, some of them with more or less informative signs. This room, which the letter called The Crossroad Room, had no windows. There were portraits on the walls and a desk in the centre, full of tools for writing, painting, drawing, notes and even fragments of maps.
According to an unsigned letter they had found on the cluttered desk, they were in “Quirkholme Quagmire”.
The author of that letter claimed to have woken up in this place multiple times and had to work hard at getting out. Everything with that letter was mysterious. Even the date, (13th Solarius of Orbit 111) was surreal and had nothing to do with the timekeeping they knew in Idalos. Was this helpful information about how to cope with this unexpected dreamscape? Or was it the deluded scribblings of a madman? Or was it something else? They had been too overwhelmed by the situation to take time to speculate. Instead, they would learn by doing!
The letter had advised them to stick together at all cost, make sketches and take notes as they progressed. They could also look for notes the author of the letter might have dropped while they had been wandering around in ...Quirkholme? They had mentioned a plethora of rooms but the blueprint map Brent had found was not complete.
After discussion they (or, more accurate, Yrmellyn) had decided that they would take their chances with a door which had first been named “The Easy Road”, then changed the name to “The Road to the Land of Happiness”. As soon as they had stepped through it the door had shut behind them with a bang. They had found themselves in a very old place, with walls of stone, dark right inside the door, but illuminated on the other side of an archway. Passing through the archway, the scent of bread had made Brent speculate that they might (might) have found The Kitchen. Other sounds, also identified by Brent, had made him speculate that they might (might) also have found The Bedroom.
Was it so? To be continued ...
Yrmellyn agreed with Brent that they ought to continue forward. Following the passage, it felt like they were going downhill, While Brent studied the blueprint and made sketches and notes she made drawings and notes of her own. All those things she had picked from that desk in the crossroad room and stuffed into a backpack came in so handy now! Unlike Brent, who seemed focused on trying to assess distances and identify their position on the map, she made a drawing of the corridor. It might be good to have a picture of it. As a painter she knew how easy it was to forget how things really looked once they were out of sight. Memory could be fickle. So, she took the time to outline the passage such as she viewed it.
Soon, a dark shadow framed the page in her notebook. Dotted thin perspective lines continued through the arch further down the corridor and met somewhere in the light beyond it. Content with the drawing so far, she added more detail to the stone walls, getting clearer the closer to the archway she drew them. She didn’t draw every stone, only some of them. The surfaces of the stones were smooth and they were of equal size. She concluded that they seemed cut by master stonemasons (she wrote a note about that).
Then she scribbled a hasty summary of on the next page, on the left side of the notebook: “A picture of the passage behind the door named The Road to the land of happiness. The atmosphere is old. Walls of grey stone lines the passage. It looks like it slopes downhill, but not steeply so. The air is cool and a bit damp. It might mean that we are on a basement floor somewhere under the ground. If there is any real ground here ... it is named Quirkholme Quagmire.
They were done with drawing and writing. When Brent took lead, Yrmellyn was happy to let him walk first. Who could know what lurked behind in the light at the other side of the arch!
The answer was: more doors! These doors were simpler than the doors in the Crossroad room had been and they had no signs with names on. Yet. Yrmellyn waited a bit in the hope that the doors would provide clues but they didn’t. The only information consisted of the delicious smell of fresh bread from a door that was ajar. Looking over Brent’s should she saw him add that door to his map and write the word kitchen.
“You can be right, Brent. It might be the kitchen, judging from the smell.”
She could also hear some creaking sounds and delighted laughter, not sure from where? From the same room, or was it from an adjacent room, behind one of the closed doors? As she had once upon a time been a professional courtesan she knew that laugh. Those bad old time had ended long ago when Maruiz Arbin had initiated her to magic and art.
Fourteen arcs had passed since then. Yrmellyn was older now, in her mid thirties, ageing some would say, and they would be right. The physical signs of if were still mild but she knew they were there. Thin lines at the corners of her eyes for instance. But, if somebody would have a closer look at her eyes they might not notice the lines due to being too surprised by the puzzle pattern the attunement magic had painted on her irises. That was her witchmark, only visible at a short range. Few commented on it as they had no idea what it was. But, on rare occasions, when somebody asked about it, Yrmellyn used to shrug and say that she had been born that way. That was true, she felt, as it had manifested at the initiation, her birth as a mage.
“A kitchen.” She peeked in through the opening of the door. It really seemed like a kitchen. People were running around with trays of food. A small mountain of fresh bread lay on top of a big table. It looked appetizing and she felt that they had taken the right door. She saw house-maids wearing clean white aprons over floral dresses and valets in varied and colourful livery. There were kitchen aides in drab attire and a few people who seemed to direct and oversee the work. The latter was dressed in elegant black clothes.
“So much food! It seems like they are cooking for a big banquet. Do you think they can offer us a breakfast of a good dinner or something in there? By the way, I wonder what time of the trial it is.”
They had been noticed! One of the black-clad overseers was on their way toward them. He was tall and thin, his dark hair slicked back from the brow, his prominent nose straight and proud. Outside of Emea, Yrmellyn would have used attunement magic to investigate the place and its inhabitants in advance. Without it (as it was dangerous to use it in dreams) she felt lost.
“Brent, they have seen us! Shall we step in? Or would it be better to close this door, run and hide? ”
If Brent would say yes, they would both enter the room.
They had found themselves in a room with many doors, some of them with more or less informative signs. This room, which the letter called The Crossroad Room, had no windows. There were portraits on the walls and a desk in the centre, full of tools for writing, painting, drawing, notes and even fragments of maps.
According to an unsigned letter they had found on the cluttered desk, they were in “Quirkholme Quagmire”.
The author of that letter claimed to have woken up in this place multiple times and had to work hard at getting out. Everything with that letter was mysterious. Even the date, (13th Solarius of Orbit 111) was surreal and had nothing to do with the timekeeping they knew in Idalos. Was this helpful information about how to cope with this unexpected dreamscape? Or was it the deluded scribblings of a madman? Or was it something else? They had been too overwhelmed by the situation to take time to speculate. Instead, they would learn by doing!
The letter had advised them to stick together at all cost, make sketches and take notes as they progressed. They could also look for notes the author of the letter might have dropped while they had been wandering around in ...Quirkholme? They had mentioned a plethora of rooms but the blueprint map Brent had found was not complete.
After discussion they (or, more accurate, Yrmellyn) had decided that they would take their chances with a door which had first been named “The Easy Road”, then changed the name to “The Road to the Land of Happiness”. As soon as they had stepped through it the door had shut behind them with a bang. They had found themselves in a very old place, with walls of stone, dark right inside the door, but illuminated on the other side of an archway. Passing through the archway, the scent of bread had made Brent speculate that they might (might) have found The Kitchen. Other sounds, also identified by Brent, had made him speculate that they might (might) also have found The Bedroom.
Was it so? To be continued ...
Yrmellyn agreed with Brent that they ought to continue forward. Following the passage, it felt like they were going downhill, While Brent studied the blueprint and made sketches and notes she made drawings and notes of her own. All those things she had picked from that desk in the crossroad room and stuffed into a backpack came in so handy now! Unlike Brent, who seemed focused on trying to assess distances and identify their position on the map, she made a drawing of the corridor. It might be good to have a picture of it. As a painter she knew how easy it was to forget how things really looked once they were out of sight. Memory could be fickle. So, she took the time to outline the passage such as she viewed it.
Soon, a dark shadow framed the page in her notebook. Dotted thin perspective lines continued through the arch further down the corridor and met somewhere in the light beyond it. Content with the drawing so far, she added more detail to the stone walls, getting clearer the closer to the archway she drew them. She didn’t draw every stone, only some of them. The surfaces of the stones were smooth and they were of equal size. She concluded that they seemed cut by master stonemasons (she wrote a note about that).
Then she scribbled a hasty summary of on the next page, on the left side of the notebook: “A picture of the passage behind the door named The Road to the land of happiness. The atmosphere is old. Walls of grey stone lines the passage. It looks like it slopes downhill, but not steeply so. The air is cool and a bit damp. It might mean that we are on a basement floor somewhere under the ground. If there is any real ground here ... it is named Quirkholme Quagmire.
They were done with drawing and writing. When Brent took lead, Yrmellyn was happy to let him walk first. Who could know what lurked behind in the light at the other side of the arch!
The answer was: more doors! These doors were simpler than the doors in the Crossroad room had been and they had no signs with names on. Yet. Yrmellyn waited a bit in the hope that the doors would provide clues but they didn’t. The only information consisted of the delicious smell of fresh bread from a door that was ajar. Looking over Brent’s should she saw him add that door to his map and write the word kitchen.
“You can be right, Brent. It might be the kitchen, judging from the smell.”
She could also hear some creaking sounds and delighted laughter, not sure from where? From the same room, or was it from an adjacent room, behind one of the closed doors? As she had once upon a time been a professional courtesan she knew that laugh. Those bad old time had ended long ago when Maruiz Arbin had initiated her to magic and art.
Fourteen arcs had passed since then. Yrmellyn was older now, in her mid thirties, ageing some would say, and they would be right. The physical signs of if were still mild but she knew they were there. Thin lines at the corners of her eyes for instance. But, if somebody would have a closer look at her eyes they might not notice the lines due to being too surprised by the puzzle pattern the attunement magic had painted on her irises. That was her witchmark, only visible at a short range. Few commented on it as they had no idea what it was. But, on rare occasions, when somebody asked about it, Yrmellyn used to shrug and say that she had been born that way. That was true, she felt, as it had manifested at the initiation, her birth as a mage.
“A kitchen.” She peeked in through the opening of the door. It really seemed like a kitchen. People were running around with trays of food. A small mountain of fresh bread lay on top of a big table. It looked appetizing and she felt that they had taken the right door. She saw house-maids wearing clean white aprons over floral dresses and valets in varied and colourful livery. There were kitchen aides in drab attire and a few people who seemed to direct and oversee the work. The latter was dressed in elegant black clothes.
“So much food! It seems like they are cooking for a big banquet. Do you think they can offer us a breakfast of a good dinner or something in there? By the way, I wonder what time of the trial it is.”
They had been noticed! One of the black-clad overseers was on their way toward them. He was tall and thin, his dark hair slicked back from the brow, his prominent nose straight and proud. Outside of Emea, Yrmellyn would have used attunement magic to investigate the place and its inhabitants in advance. Without it (as it was dangerous to use it in dreams) she felt lost.
“Brent, they have seen us! Shall we step in? Or would it be better to close this door, run and hide? ”
If Brent would say yes, they would both enter the room.
