The Boaz Room

[The Portrait of Zool]

Zool gave the biggest grin she had yet seen him give. "Well, that was foolish," he said, half to himself.The turban alighted back on the table with a wobbling spin after absorbing the force of the trajectory of the rubber chicken, and then the rubber chicken itself in that lightning quick grab. Finally coming to a rest, it lay innocently on the table with all the pomp and distinction of an ordinary turban.But clearly it wasn't an ordinary turban. Everyone at the table stared unblinking at it, holding their breath...The Swami chose that moment to return. Sitting down he deftly popped the turban onto his bald head. "Phew!" he said cheerily, "Thank you Lady Brighid for that wonderful dance! I haven't had..." Before he could finish his sentence the turban leaped into the air, did a triple summersault and plopped back down at a rakish angle. Straightening it with both hands, he grabbed it tight, saying mildly, "My goodness, I seem to have caught a case of hat hop..." He didn't finish that sentence either as he leaped up into the air, bounced off the rafters, then began careening around the room wall to floor to ceiling to wall, both hands clinging tightly to the hyper headgear. It was indeed fortunate for the swami's delicate noggin that the turban was so well padded.Bedlam erupted.As everyone else jumped out of their seats to seek cover the Swami alighted into a corner, finally coming to rest. Zool peeked out from under his chair to see the Swami sitting a little wobbly, but otherwise seemingly unharmed, still clutching the turban."What in the world is going on in that turban?" wondered Zool.As if in answer the jewel on the front of the turban swung aside, revealing another trap door. Out of the dark opening with a sharp *POOM* sound audible even over the bedlam a projectile of some sort shot out! And then another and then another! *POOM POOM POOM POOM POOM*!! went the turban, and wherever a projectile shot it bounced and bounced again, going in every direction!The bedlam, with the new disturbance, also changed direction. The air was now full of hurtling projectiles. People started shouting and cursing as the projectiles scored. Fortunately, they just bounced off of people too.One of the projectiles bounced of Zool's portrait and dropped to the floor, it's trajectory dissipated. He examined it. It was an egg - a rubber egg.

Edited November 4, 2013 by The Portrait of Zool

[Harmonious_Echos]

Harmony strolls in looking around her mutely, trying to ignore the effervescent Muse who follows, launching herself at the rubber-egg-laying turban with banshee-like screeches of "IT'S SO FLUFFY!!". Seating her self at a corner table, she gazes out over the crowd, marveling to herself that certain persons have not yet made an appearance. "I suppose that means I'm early", she thought, "but, early for what?".

Edited November 4, 2013 by Harmony

[James Crow]

Out of the shadow, stepped a figure. He made his way to Zool's table, dodging the rubber eggs . Most of the table guest saw a cloaked figure approach from the corner of their eyes. But as they turned to confront it, then found themselves looking at James Crow. “sorry about my disruption earlier,” he said with a bow, “What I said was in jest, but it was rude of me.” He looked up to Zool, “Can you find it in you to forgive me, and may I join you? I...don't want to be alone right now.” The way he said it made a chill run down Brighid's spine. Zool nodded, and James took a seat.

“Where is your friend, the little girl?” asked Yasmina politely.

“Heading off to meet her death and that of the Mighty Pen's,” James said with no remorse. Yasmina quickly covered her moth in shock. James looked at her from the corner of his eyes and responded, “Don't worry, her partner in crime is with her,” he picked up a glass and examined it, “So atleast she won't die alone.” He sat down the glass, stood up and said, “But that is enough sad talk, I came here because I heard there was a party! Sooooo....” he eyed the girls at the table, “the ladies look worn out so if I may,” he extended his hand towards Zool with a sly grin, “May I have this dance?”

[Quincunx]

The squirrels' dance ended with tails curled above their heads and noses pointed skywards; Rydia swept both arms upwards and together, and the shawl swelled out above her. Her pointed joined hands, unconsciously placed in the caller's gesture, crackled with a bit of mana. She watched the white flecks fall until they faded, murmuring "shiny", but then snapped out of it, tiptoed to a door, and left for a few minutes. When she slipped back in, a flexible feather dropped out of the upper air currents and landed on her hair. One ear flicked mechanically until the feather was dislodged. The feather tumbled to earth, bounced a few inches off of the floor upon impact. . .

 

. . .and then the Swami followed the same path, but bounced several dozen feet off of the floor instead. The elf squeaked and scrambled for cover, behind a potted plant in a quiet corner, which was not empty for long. Swami Noguru crash-landed in the shrubbery, and Rydia heard the crackling of twigs and leaves, an involuntary exhalation, quick patting sounds of reassurance, and a POOM! She peered from behind the bush, her ears emerging into view first. "What in the world is that?" she inquired as another lump shot out of the turban.

 

"It's my headcannon and I'll thank you to respect it" the swami retorted. Rydia sniffed in disdain and turned her face away from him, and caught sight of a sparkle of multicolored scales floating through another doorway.

[The Portrait of Zool]

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Zool with a large grin. "Your card brought back to mind a glorious time, back before I was confined to this crayon corral, though your invitation reminds me once again of the limitations.... Say, what's that on your arm?" Zool's head loomed large as he leaned forward to examine James' arm, overt concern in his eyes. "It is! It is!" he exclaimed, straightening back up with a jerk. "No wonder you're so desperate to dance - you've been bitten by a jitterbug!"

 

James looked where Zool had indicated and saw a pink and blue mosquito looking creature resting on his arm.

 

"Anyone bitten by a jitterbug has an uncontrolable urge to dance! Kill it! Kill it! It mustn't be allowed to bite anyone else! I hope to GOD there aren't any more!"

Edited November 5, 2013 by The Portrait of Zool

[The Portrait of Zool]

After a dozen POOMs the barrage finally ended, leaving the Swami panting and trembling heavily. He was bruised, exhausted, and quite dizzy to boot. "Is it over?" he said aloud to no one in particular.

 

"IT'S SO FLUFFY!!" The screech startled him so much he dropped the turban, which bounced out of the flower pot and fell at Rydia's feet.

 

"My goodness!" said the Swami, his ears ringing and his eyes as big as saucers.

[Brighid of Byrness]

Brighid managed to avoid the onslaught of ovoid-shaped missiles by hiding behind Zool’s frame. From this safe vantage point, she took in the chaotic spectacle playing out on the dance floor: rubber eggs whizzing every which way through the air while partiers simultaneously danced and ducked, trying to keep from being hit. Zool was right to be concerned; the Boaz Room had been infested by jitterbugs!

 

It didn’t take too long for the swarm of bugs to find their marks and sink their teeth into humans, animals, and creatures alike; soon, those affected crowded onto the dance floor in a frenzy of fruggin’, jerkin’, twistin’, and watusi-in’.

 

Brighid turned away from the madness, and peeking around the other corner of the frame, surreptitiously took in the figure of James Crow. Something small niggled in the back of her mind. What had James said to Yasmina about Scheherazade? That she was off meeting her death with her partner in crime? It was quite obvious that James was Scheherazade’s partner, and Brighid had seen them both jump through the portable window. If so, what was he doing back in the Boaz Room without her?

 

“James,” Brighid addressed the man as she arose from behind the portrait. “Who exactly are you, and what is going on around here?”

 

Before the stunned man could reply, he was overcome with the desire to sashay out into the midst of the throng. Once he made his way to the center of attention, he stopped dramatically and proceeded to flash fluid arm poses in beat to the music, exhibiting a fierceness the likes of which had never been seen within the walls of the Keep.

Edited November 5, 2013 by Brighid of Byrness

[James Crow]

James sighed as he escaped Brighid question for him. But this jitterbug poison was really annoying, but as he tried to resist it he noticed his form flicker, and shimmer, like that of a mirage. With a slight hiss of hatred he let the poison take its full effect, as long as he didn't stand out he would do fine and no one would notice.

 

Then James realized what dance he was performing, and at the gasping breath of some of the others, he knew that they knew it too. He was doing that dance. A dance of such fierceness that it was forbidden on countless worlds, the destroyer of many others, and the mating dance of one. The dance known only as....as....DISCO!!!

[The Portrait of Zool]

The hostess was getting a very bad feeling. Jitterbugs? In the Boaz Room?? It can't be. Nothing like that has happened since... well, EVER!As the waiter who gave her the news returned to the restaurant she peeked inside, and her heart sank. The whole restaruant was dancing. Even the waiter who had just returned was walking jerkily to the beat. Even worse, the Jitterbug boogie was going right past the itch twitch and into disco fever. These were obviously the worst kind of jitterbugs. It was simply mortifying! Something had to be done!"Who you gonna call?" she thought idly as she picked up the phone. "Yes, Hello," she said when the other end was answered. "I have a problem which I think you can help me with. M-hm. M-hm. Well, are you discrete? I'd really like to take care of this as quietly as possible. Good. The Mighty Pen. See you soon." She hung up.Somewhere out in the world an alarm bell rang. Men jumped out of their beds, slid down the pole and jumped into their gleaming retro tochnologically topheavy emergency vehicle. The motor roared, brilliant lights sprang to life, and a piercing klaxon pierced the night as the ancient Cadillac Hurst bolted out the open doors and onto the street. Lights flashing and siren blaring the whole way, it drove to the Keep of The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword!.They entered like stormtroopers, four men in boots, heavy coveralls, armloads of equipment, and menacing backpacks that gave off a low thrum."We're here, let's be clear, it's time to kick butt!" shouted the leader as he topped the stairs.The hostess ran up, appalled. "Shey're in shere!" she said, half trying to shush the unruly exterminators and half trying to direct them to the job. Things were just never like this when she was growing up with the other elves.The man gave her a funny look, but maintained what he thought was a professional demeaner. "I'm Peter. What's the problem miss?"The poor hostess was a bit overcome. "Jitterbugs. The whole restaurant. Disco fever!" she finally managed to stammer out."Sounds bad. Egon, do we do bugs?""Egon asked the hostess, "What's the pay?"The hostess produced a bag of gold.All four men simultaneously pulled out a wicked looking rifle of some sort, connected at the back with a thick cable to the vibrating backpacks. the hostess' eyes became as big as dinner plates. "Whoa whoa whoa whoa!" she exclaimed, now genuinely frightened. "Are you sure you can do this?"Peter looked at the hostess and said evenly, "Ma'am, we're exterminators. We each have years of experience, an unlicensed nuclear accelerator strapped to his back, a full tank of gas, it's night, and we're wearing sunglasses. We got this.""Aren't you mixing up your movies?" she asked, confused."It's all right ma'am, they're great lines. Heat 'em up!"The backpacks low thrumming ramped up to a fever pitch as they strode past the hostess and into the restaurant, guns blazing.The restaurant exploded in a shower of lightning bolts and flames. Patrons danced to cover. Harmony seemed safe in her corner for the moment. James decided it was time to rhythmically examine the floor boards. Zool dove under his chair as Brighid and Yasmina dove under the table. Rydia dove deeper into her bush as the top was burned off. The Swami rolled deeper into his corner. Three giant squirrels dove in three different directions. All shadows were momentarily banished in the electric glare.But the jitterbugs faught back viciously. First Egon began jerking involuntarily, then Peter too, then the rest were all dancing frenetically to the music, which somehow continued to play. It was over, the jitterbugs had won - at least for now.People began dancing out of their hiding places, stamping out fires as they did so. Zool peeked out from under his chair. The Swami picked up his turban and plopped it back onto his head, a blue arm popping out of a trap door and putting out the burning feather and smoking singe marks with a fire extinguisher. The place was full of dancing patrons and a thick haze of smoke.

 

What a party!

Edited November 7, 2013 by The Portrait of Zool

[Brighid of Byrness]

“Whatever you do, don’t let the jitterbugs discover we’re hiding under this table,” Yasmina quietly murmured to Brighid. “The swami and I lived through an outbreak when we were the guests in the palace of Maharaja Hari Ram Singh, and it was a dreadful ordeal. We were both bitten; watching Noguru dance the Rhumba was not a pretty sight.”

 

“There must be something we can do. If only Zool’s rubber chicken wasn’t trapped within the swami’s turban. That funky fowl would probably have these nasty pests eaten up in no time!” Brighid closed her eyes to better think.

 

“I’ve got it!” Yasmina excitedly whispered. “Traveling with the swami’s entourage I’ve learned a thing or two about theatrics and sleight of hand trickery. I’m quite sure I can pull the tablecloth off without calling any attention to ourselves. We can hide underneath with only our feet exposed, make our way over to the potted plant, and retrieve the turban. Once we open the trap door, the chicken can escape and will be free to do his thing!”

 

Brighid nodded her assent silently, and the two of them crawled out from their hiding place. Quick as the twitch of a fairy’s tail, Yasmina removed the white cloth without dislodging a dish or drink.

 

No one noticed the make-shift “ghost” bumble its way toward the potted plant.

 

“Pssst…over this way,” Rydia called to Yasmina and Brighid from within her leafy hideout.

 

Following the elf’s voice, they stumbled upon the turban which had again been dislodged from the swami's head; the blue arm reached out and smacked them both on their feet for being so clumsy. Reaching down, Yasmina grabbed hold of the flailing appendage and pulled the squirming turban inside. She held on for dear life while Brighid opened another trap door, releasing the irate chicken. He instantly started squawking and flapping his wings, creating quite a sensation within their tent-like disguise.

 

“Ah! Bah! Help! No! Ergh! Eeeeyouch!” interjected the two women as they were pelted by the careening chicken. “Throw off the tablecloth; he needs to be set free!”

 

Like a drunken arrow, the chicken bounced off the ceiling, floor, walls, and dancing bodies as he targeted the jitterbugs. It was short work before he had picked the place clean.

 

Presently, the poison started to wear off, and one by one the exhausted dancers flopped to the floor, too tired to make their way back to their tables. Zool crawled out from under his chair and pushed up against the very edge of the frame, straining to see what his rubber comrade would do next.

 

The chicken’s stomach was distended by the amount of jitterbugs he had ingested, and it literally dragged across the floor like a cannonball as the bird flopped and flapped its way to the middle of the room. As if on cue from within an off-off-Broadway production, a spotlight appeared around the unlikely hero, and the band struck up an oompah-pah polka. Unable to resist the urge due to the large amount of jitterbug toxin coursing through its veins, the bewildered bird raised his wings and commenced dancing the Funky Chicken.

[James Crow]

'Good a distraction,' thought James and in a split second he was up and bolted for the door. But Brighid stood in his path, tapping her foot. “What a pleasant surprise,” said James with a slight bow.

“What are you and what is going on?” she demanded.

James could tell she was serious by the look in her eye and gave out a heavy sigh and revealed his form as the Cloaked Figure. “I am a shadow, a herald of darkness. I can be whoever I want. I put fear in the hearts of people and prevent them from doing anything. And I came here to destroy the Mighty Pen, and the Pen will fall. The army of darkness waits outside. Scheherazade and James will open the gate for them. It is their fate. Like Zool's was to be trapped in a painting. And much like yours is to be alone.” Brighid slapped the thing across the face, and it looked down. “It is their fate and we can do nothing tho stop them nor can we help them.” Brighid could hear the sadness and anger in the things voice. But in a blink it was gone and he turned his face back up to look at hers, a smile playing across his face. “So what are you going to do? Are you gonna waste your time out there,” he reached out a hand changing back into James, “or take my hand and come back to the table and act like nothing happened?”

[Brighid of Byrness]

Brighid was momentarily taken aback by the cloaked form’s confession. She looked down at his outstretched hand and contemplated whether or not she should take it and follow him back to the table. That was the easy way, wasn’t it? Who can go up against Fate and win?

 

“Wait just a minute,” she responded. “I’ve met beings like you before, when I walked in the shadow realm between this world and another. But I’ve never seen any of you out here. How is it possible? How did you cross the border?”

 

“All things are revealed in due time, my lady, and it is not time for you to know how and why I alone was allowed to leave the shadow realm.” He smiled his most winsome smile at the woman and hoped it was enough to distract her from questioning him further.

 

“But you mentioned an ‘Army of Darkness’; are they following you from the shadow realm or are they creatures of another sort? How can I just turn my back on impending doom and danger? These are my friends in here.” Brighid motioned toward the table where her newfound friends were sitting and drinking. “And The Mighty Pen is their home. Why would you want to destroy all these people? Who sent you here?” she demanded.

 

“Again, my lady, I cannot tell you. Though, I think if you clear your mind of the present confusion you will remember some of the signs and situations you’ve encountered over the last few months, and you’ll see that Fate has also directed your footfalls all the way from your faraway cottage to this very spot.”

 

“You know about my past?” Brighid asked quietly, a bit of panic creeping into her voice and across her face. “Do you know about him? My lover? Was he also part of Fate’s plan to get me here within The Pen?”

 

“Yes, I know about the man who came into your life and your bed seemingly by happenstance, and then left both quite violently. I know him well.” He paused as Brighid looked into his eyes, searching for some sort of answer within them. Strangely, all she could make out was a sad melancholy. “But that’s the past, and this…” he gestured within the Boaz Room, “…is the present. Come, Brighid, let’s join your friends while there’s still time.”

 

The cloaked figure assumed the shape of James, and Brighid took his arm. She would have to stick close to the shadow if she was going to figure out a way to cheat Fate. Together they walked toward their empty chairs around the table…and toward their destinies.

[James Crow]

The fake James smiled and escorted Brighid back to her table. Along the way she tried to pry out answers, but James merely grinned and said, "In due time, my lady."

Finally they made it back to the table, Zool looked at them and smiled, "Glad to see you making friends so quickly my dear."

 

She turned to the thing that wore a James face and wondered, "Is he a friend?”

 

James smiled at her and replied, “Such a lovely creature, how could she not make friends. Unless, it is just a cruel hand dealt by Fate.” She let out a small gasp and looked at pseudo-James, his smile showed it was merely a joke. Yet his eyes....his eyes reminded her of her past, reminded her of...his eyes. She could feel a tear run down her face as she turned away from him. “What, only one....?” She glared at him, while he still smiled at her. Then turned to Zool, “...card?” That smile just refused to die! “What is your take on Fate and the hands she deals?” James asked to Zool, or anyone that could still move after the jitterbugs. *shudder* “Like that card in your hand,” Zool looked at the card of the fool he was given, “The dealer puts the worth on that card when it is dealt, so what is its worth to Fate?”

[Quincunx]

"Ohmygod life was so much easier back on Blitz," complained the bush, which was now shaking rhythmically. "Two allies and that was it. No keeping track of army this and guild that." It sniffed and shuddered, and then its remaining uncharred branches gave up and fell, revealing Rydia squatting close to the ground and every so often kicking out in a Cossack dance. A stray jitterbug clung to the top of her hairdo, stabbing at it, and a dribble of venom slid out of the hairdo atop her scalp.

 

Across the room, rubber chicken stretched and wobbled, but still strained its neck towards the sole remaining treat in the room. Across the room in the other direction, Rydia's Carp swam through the air, scales all aglitter. Over Rydia's head, their eyes met.

[The Portrait of Zool]

The rubber chicken gave a sharp squawk at realization of the new competition and with a great rubbery heave began rapidly rolling towards the remaining morsel. The anti-spam carp shot forward with a flick of it's tail. The rubber chicken gained momentum, rolling ponderously like a tire with low air, but faster and faster and faster. The fish moved forward with smooth powerful strokes. The rubber chicken was really moving now, then bounced from chair to table to air like a pinball off of it's bumpers, sailing up and over the patrons heads to meet the carp open beak first just as the fish raised it's head to suck in the last jitterbug with it's wide round mouth.

 

The rubber chicken swallowed the bug. The fish swallowed the rubber chicken.

Edited November 9, 2013 by The Portrait of Zool

[The Portrait of Zool]

Zool smiled widely at James, and said, "I've always felt a great kinship with the Fool, for he is sometimes called the Troubadour, as I'm sure you already know. As to what the Fool is worth to anyone else, it is odd in the tarot deck that it has no value, unlike the rest of the cards, which are all numbered. Given the symbolism depicted on the Fool one would think he was most certainly doomed, but it's significance seems to be precisely that Fate is so often inexplicably turned on her head." The painted figure shrugged, his face a picture of unassuming innocence. "One just never knows what to expect when the Fool shows up."

 

Fake James' eyes narrowed slightly, tinged with the tiniest bit of bemusement before his former look of supreme confidence just as quickly slid back into place.

Edited November 9, 2013 by The Portrait of Zool

[Quincunx]

Rubber chicken disappeared with a sound like an artificial cork being dislodged from a bottle, played in reverse. Which is more or less what it was. Rydia's ears shot straight up in dismay, with the fortunate side effect of catching Carp in a vise. She reached up and dragged him down to eye level with both hands. "What are you doing?! You can't attack people who aren't spammers. Cough it UP!"

 

Carp belched in her face. Rubber toes were briefly visible.

 

"Ooo, you!" she replied, and kicked herself out of the Cossack dance and to standing level. Carp struggled and slipped loose, but got no further as Rydia grasped it by the tail and shook vigorously. The jitterbug poison bounced off of her hair in droplets and her grip shifted; she started to shake Carp overhead like maracas. Every eight beats, a bit more of rubber chicken reappeared out of Carp's mouth.

[James Crow]

The fake James looked at Zool for a long while. 'The fool is outside of Fate?' he puzzled. “That's it!” he shouted and gave Brighid a kiss on the lips. He then turned and bowed to Zool saying, “Thanks to you, I can save the Fool.” In an instant he became the cloaked figure, then nothing but thin air...he was gone. Brighid looked where the Cloaked Figure had been, she was almost sure now.

Zool just smiled and shook his head, “Fate is cruel though, and may not let him go.” Brighid looked at Zool, puzzled, then with horror. Somehow a jitterbug had found its way into the picture with Zool!

[Brighid of Byrness]

"Z-z-zool...don't move," Brighid urgently whispered. "There's a jitterbug inside your frame. Top left corner." Zool rolled his eyes in that direction, holding his breath. Brighid realized she wasn't breathing, either, in sympathy with her painted friend. Wait...maybe jitterbugs couldn't affect those composed of binders, pigments, and oils? Brighid breathed in slowly through her nose, still not wanting to jeopardize her friend by attracting the bug's attention just in case her hypothesis was incorrect. Opening her mouth to form the question, she realized that the storm outside seemed to have stopped mid-breath, also; after such a relentless racket, the quiet seemed especially ominous. In that pause, she heard the report of a gunshot from outside the Pen's thick walls.

 

"What was that?!" she shrieked, forgetting all about the jitterbug. "It sounded like a gunshot. I need to go help, but Grimmael took my bag of healing herbs and potions to my room, and I don't know where that is."

 

Ignoring the jitterbug, Zool called for the strange little man, who seemed to materialize at the table out of thin air. "Grimmael, please show Brighid to her room; she needs to fetch her traveling bag. And make sure she doesn't get lost!" Turning his gaze upon Brighid he added, "Please be careful, my lady. All is not what it seems within the Pen, and tonight we've witnessed that firsthand. I will...uh...have to await you here for now...though, if I could, I would go with you! Hurry back...safely."

 

Brighid felt the urge to hug her friend goodbye; faced with that impossibility, she lightly placed her hand upon the portrait's frame and smiled reassuringly at him. "I'll be back soon, and hopefully I won't find a dancing fool in your place!"

 

She turned and followed the hobbling servant out the door. How had he appeared at the table so quickly? His uneven gait was infuriatingly slow...

[The Portrait of Zool]

Zool's thoughts hovered over concern that Brighid's mission is successful, and at the same time the hope that nobody had been hurt, before returning his eyes to the lazily loitering jitterbug above him. "Now how did that get in here?" he wondered. "Ah well, no matter, for he knew he was completely immune to bites and weather and hunger and all manner of fleshly ills..."

 

Before he could complete that thought the bug seemed to suddenly become aware of Zool's presence and quick as a lightning strike spiraled down to jab proboscis first in his arm.

 

"Blast you Wicked Witch of the West!" shouted Zool as he crushed the greedily sucking jitterbug with a slap. It was of course too late - he could already feel a strange rhythmic throbbing in his feet.

 

*To be continued*

[James Crow]

For a breif second the lights flicked and then a spotlight came on. In the center of the spotlight was a shadow, a shadow of a bat! Then a deep voice said, "I am the terror that flaps in the night. I am...Scheherazade!" At that last word the voice changed to that of the young girl and the lights came back on. Scheherazade was wearing the cloak of the Cloaked Figure, but the hood was down. She skipped over to Zool's table with a grin, "Glad to see that you are getting into the spirit of things." Zool shot her a cross look, he wasn't to fond of jitterbugs. Scheherazade looked around and asked, "Have you seen Brighid? I have some juicy secrets to tell her."

 

"YOU WILL NOT!" boomed the voice of the Cloaked Figure...coming from inside of the cloak?

 

Seeing the look of puzzlement on some faces Scheherazade smiled and said, "He isn't done fixing me yet!" Then leaning in close to Zool whispered, "and he is scared of his mistress."

 

"LADY Fate is not a mistress and I was tricked by that pain James!" growled the voice.

 

"She gets off on suffering I think that puts her out of the Lady class. Anyway James said we are all Fools, and fools are not governed by fate. So you did nothing wrong." The Shadow in the cloak growled in disagrement. "So," Scheherazade pouted, "since I don't see Brighid anywhere and you are dancing the...." she gave Zool a puzzled look, "...not familiar with that dance. I am going to cause havok caus I now have..." she sweeped the cape over the lower part of her face and finished in a deep voice, "powers!" Then with her best evil laugh streacked across the room in a shadow blur.

[The Portrait of Zool]

"Same as it ever was!" breathed Zool in time to his jerky motions. It just seemed like part of the dance.

 

Strange forces were at work. It had finally penetrated even Zool's thick skull that something extraordinary was afoot. The Pen had been deathly quiet for so long, but now it was apparent there were profound potencies penetrating the, um, place.

 

At that moment a stray horse wandered by, causing him to switch it up. "Gangnam Style!" he shouted, assuming a new posture and gait.

 

How long does this stuff last??? wondered Zool desperately...

[Brighid of Byrness]

Grimmael led Brighid down a warren of dimly lit hallways and up a flight of narrow, stone stairs; it wasn't long before she was altogether disoriented.

 

"How much farther, Grimmael? I know I didn't want to be housed in the same wing as the dragon, but this seems like I'm being exiled in another country!"

 

"Harumph," grunted the servant, squinting at Brighid through the folds around his scarred eye.

 

At length, he stopped in front of a rough-hewn oak door and inserted one of the ancient keys which hung from his belt. He hobbled inside and lit a candle next to a substantial four-poster bed. In the hearth, a small fire smouldered. Brighid crossed the shadowy room, knelt in front of the fireplace, and uttered the fire-making incantation; immediately the logs burst into flame. Looking around, she noticed that the room was modest but decorated in a shabby chic style that made her feel right at home. Her cloak was draped over the back of the single chair, and her traveling bag sat on a vanity alongside a ewer and basin. Seeing the bag reminded her of her mission, and she grabbed the small pouch of herbs and healing supplies from within.

 

"Now, please take me to the nearest entrance, Grimmael, so that I....." turning, she noticed that the man had already departed. "Well, he can't have traveled too far," she thought to herself. "He walks excrutiatingly slow!"

 

Brighid stood in the doorway and looked both ways, but there was no sight of Grimmael. "I think we came from the right," she mused," or maybe from the left?" Taking a deep breath, she turned to the right and proceeded down the hallway, hurrying in order to catch up to the errant servant. But there was no Grimmael at the end of that hallway --- she decided to take a left turn -- and no Grimmael at the end of that one, either.

 

"What can I do? I'm hopelessly lost within the Pen's labyrinthine passages!"

 

Calming her panic, she stopped and closed her eyes. The shadow said that Fate had been directing her footfalls; well, perhaps it would continue to lead her now. Eyes still closed, she started forward, guided by a strange thrumming which was slightly perceivable within the silence. With each step, Brighid wondered whether or not Fate was guiding her toward her destiny, or merely toward her death....

Edited November 11, 2013 by Brighid of Byrness

[Harmonious_Echos]

Swathed in the depths of a mystic-energy mosquito net, Harmony watches the action with liquid eyes, sipping her drink quietly. Muse, however, tears around the room snatching jitterbugs from random corners & beaning people with them, all the while singing "Pink Elephants On Parade" at the top of her lungs...with music included.

Harmony wonders if she could help Brighid, who had long since left the room... She lights a tiny spark of mystic energy at the tip of one finger & draws a tiny door in the air, and then a tiny key, and whispers a word over it. It flits away in the direction Brighid left in, humming softly.

Suddenly Harmony realizes that doing this has torn a tiny hole in her netting cover. With the tiniest bit of terror lighting her eyes she whips out a golden needle and knits the threads closed...just in time. Muse materializes only milliseconds later, wielding a large, wriggling Jitterbug in each hand..all sixteen of them. She howls in rage when she sees she cannot infect Harmony...

[Brighid of Byrness]

Brighid felt like a panicked animal of prey, running down the corridors of the Pen pursued by a formless predator. She navigated the twists and turns by instinct, amazed at the vastness of the Keep; she never would have guessed from the outside how immense it was on the inside! The recent memory of the first few hours of fleeing from her lover's death was close to the surface, and at times it seemed as though the bare, twisted branches of the forest had followed her here to the Pen and were grasping at her from the walls and impeding her progress.

 

But soon the rhythmic pattern of running allowed her thoughts to flow smoothly and she realized that whatever happened to James, it was not her fault. And like Zool had pointed out, she couldn't be sure that what had happened to her lover was her fault, either.

 

Abruptly the hallway ended, and she was not the kind of person who liked to backtrack. Calling on Saint Brighid to guide her next move, she was astonished to find a tiny door and key appear within her hands. "What can I possibly do with such a diminutive door?" she asked herself distractedly, looking around for another way forward. Seeing none, she stared down at the little door lying in the palm of her hand. It was exquisitely detailed and delicate, like a door to a fairy's fine home. With difficulty, she managed to grasp the sliver of a key and insert it into the lock; instantly, the door grew in size. Brighid turned the handle, stepped through the doorway, and discovered herself back within the Boaz Room!

 

"Zool! Swami! Yasmina!" she called out to her friends who were still seated around the table. "I think I found out who was shot. I discovered James covered in blood, lying in one of the courtyards, but I couldn't find a gunshot wound to heal. I think he's dead; he wasn't breathing. And where is Grimmael, anyway? He left me in my room to find my way, and I got lost! Luckily a magical door appeared or else I think I would still be running the halls! What is going on around here? Where's the Shadow? Scheherazade? Rydia? The Rubber Chicken???"

 

Brighid stopped blabbering long enough to grab a slice of slightly dried-out hydra fois gras. Shoving it into her mouth, she finally relaxed into her seat and let out a long sigh. "Thank the goddess you're all safe in here. There's evil outside these walls..."