January 11, 2011

The World Market

Filed under: Places,Stories — anteolsson @ 12:12
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“Place your goods in the box here, please” a stern and experienced hand showed Dolores where to put her goods, her trading goods. She de-shelved her backpack and started to unload her planed tradeables. It was a figurine she had found in the woods nearby. It had now value to her, not functional nor sentimental. Perhaps it held a trading value which was a lottery for her which is why she had also brought some raw materials, she knew would fetch some good few coins to trade for. “In here madame” the hand pointed instructionally again. “Your name here, please” a finger directed at a line on a paper tag. She signed in clear letters, as far as her ability to print would allow he, and finally flipped it into the container. Dolores noted, as she had previously done, that the goods guard spoke one language with his hands and another with his face. His eyes went in the opposite direction keeping a suspicious look at whoever might be moving too fast or looking too anxious. The expression he displayed was also of a different language, that of an ingrown scholar with an attention almost broadcasted. “Step forward, please” he instructed further pointing his hand in an angle for Dolores to move forward in the line.


The goods were to be taken to the inspection house. A set of veteran traders, or lore masters as they would refer to themselves as, would now inspect the goods. A price would be set and Dolores would be handed a proportionate amount of coins. Coins she later would be able to trade for, goods that would be either or both functional or sentimental.


In her place waiting, a man at last came out with a purse of coins. She received it and opened it. Heavier than she thought, she found herself surprised. Positively surprised. She counted ten times the coins that she expected. The figurine was obviously more valuable than she thought. She has no memory of how it looked and would not be able to give any record of it from memory alone. Her curiosity disappeared.


Her soul was revived, as it always is when work actually pays off for profit. She immediately hoped on the greenhorn recurve bow she for long had yearned for. Yearned was accurate in the context, the item had indeed emanated an emotional bond between them. If Tormu was in a good mood she might afford some of his arrows to go with it. She did almost not dare to think the coming thought, but it was unstoppable. She might persuade him to learn her the craft and skills to produce the arrows herself. He had on no prior account revealed the materials of the arrows and on her mentioning the arrow head he had instantly, almost anticipatingly, switched subjects. At their next meeting he had allowed her to try the bow And the arrow. He produced a target putting it in medium range from the trading counter, lent her the bow and unwrapped one of the mysterious arrows and delivered it to her with both his hands. Her heart was in trance but as soon as she gripped the bow and had drawn the string she transferred the trance to her mind instead. With focused attention she softly let go of the bow string, breathing out the little air she had left, cocked her head and strained the arrow. She thought she could hear a note, perhaps several notes at once; a chord, as soon as she lay the arrow in its position. She drew the bow string to maximum force, quick enough for her to not produce fatigue in her physique. Eyes around her saw, not recognised, an artfully skilled draw and a coordination few are born with or can attain. She aimed for a second, no longer than a second and a half and she let go. The arrow produced the chord again, she thought, but then it went silent and her gaze became a cone with the arrows flight in the center. “Thump!”. The red dot on the target was pierced and the arrow was nowhere to be seen. Tormu ran past the target and came quickly back with the same arrow, wrapped it with care and put it away. He looked anticipatingly at Dolores who uttered “Straight through!”. Tormu nodded and reached for the bow. Dolores complied and handed it over, without hesitation. She had still a feeling that this bow and arrow was not for her, yet. She needed to earn it, she thought. A projectile set like this, finds its owner when it is ready. The owner was at that time not ready.


This day, at which she had traded for the figurine, she felt different. She was worth the bow now. She had earned it. Not because of the coinage she had obtained, but because of the sustenance her soul had been fortuned with through her own adventures, her own living. As a lonesome nomadic ranger, she had had to be autonomous. “Proper autonomy” she told herself, but immediately refused the thought as she remembered what she had been taught when she was still dependant on her tribe.


“Acknowledge the world,

remember the nature,

be true to the trees,

respect the wolves,

be careful of the wind and protect from the sun when she’s in good spirits,

tread cautiously in the soil and smell even the clearest water before you taste it.

Complete independence is betrayal.”


The assurance of her worth was renewed after citing her peoples poem. She had still not betrayed herself and hubris was at bay, she in the desert.


With slightly increased pace her feet took her to Tormu. He was there and from the current distance he looked to be in a good mood. Her heart raced again. “Can I have a look at The bow again” she readily said with an excitement she was not able to hide. She had to stop trying to hide it, her excitement was too overpowering “Alright, I am overly excited today” She informed Tormu “I have more coins today” “I am sorry Dolores. No bow. Sold it last week!” her face lost all colour and her body obtained posture similar to that of a dying animal. “Just kidding! I have it right here” Tormu quickly responded. Dolores shone up again and a second after her eyes could have shot fire, if she would have such an ability. That passed as well and she retrieved the bow from Tormu’s hands. “You’ve got the Arrows as well?” She attempted to fake her angry eyes but failed and instead the two of them broke out in laughter. He unwrapped an arrow for her and guiltily handed it to her. “The target is up. Take your shot”. This time without testing the bow she placed the arrow, aimed and released. The shot was true. “Still 10 coins for the bow?” she asked keeping her look fixed at the bow limbs. “Still ten, and I give you an arrow with it. Just for you Dolores” She could hear the guilt in his voice being still there. Without her not having to do anything, the bad joke had played in her favour. She would now get the bow And an arrow. She managed to resist asking to be taught how to make them, she could not risk pushing her luck at this point. The bow and one arrow for 10 coins was a once in a life time opportunity and she would have to take it. “Deal” she affirmed and Tormu handed her the arrow in its wrappings while she handed him the 10 coins. “A pleasure to finally do business with you, Tormu” “It is mutual, Dolores” was the reply. Dolores carefully opened the arrows wrapping and found a folded note. Before she could inquire what the note was, she found, by unfolding, that it was a “recipe” for the singing arrows. She felt a kind of love towards Tormu. A love cousin to the loves she had felt before.


The World Market is a restricted and heavily guarded area where merchants of the world sell exotic goods. It is usually unique items they sell and the buyers are constantly there to see what is new on the market. The market is inconveniently located in the Yellow desert, above an underground sweet water lake.Participants who whish to buy need to bring items that are tradeable on the market, which can be seasonal and always occacional. The items brought are then exchanged for coins, World Market Coins, which can only be used inside the restricted area. This is due to that at exit from the area each contender need to be thoroughly examined and all left-over coins need to be returned.


September 9, 2010


Filed under: Places,Stories — anteolsson @ 16:32
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In the civilised society of Porrheim work, governance and everyday life was as in most other civilised societies. It worked! The huge wheel of labour that the humans had put into the system that held the people together was spinning. Each day and each month the wheel was tended to, assigned people made sure that it was well oiled and that no obstacles were in its way. Is is usual, of course, that this is not always as easy as the theory suggests. For there where, again of course, obstacles to take care of. One and another who wanted to abuse the loop holes of the societal fabric and two or the same, anarchists who felt the need to express their dissaticefaction with the system. But these were small problems that were easily handled with and rarely posed a real problem, or a real threat to the fate of the spinning wheel.

And so, it seemed to the civilians that they lived freely, as it were, together in a society that worked for each and everyone. This was also a virtue of their civilisation, at least in the minds of the inhabitants. For it was not acceptable to discriminate or to intentionally hurt others. Neither was it allowed to abuse others and most importantly, not to abuse the system. They had arranged for this of course, each and every day tending to the problems that arose. Laws were protecting the rightious and good citisens and the laws worked well. So well, in fact, that new laws were created all the time and the population welcomed it, as the laws really did kept the wheel spinning.

Roman Welsh was brought up in Porrheim. His parents never took him elsewhere and there was really little need for such travels as everything a man could desire really was available in Porrheim. His upbringing held good standards, Porrheim standards mind you, and in his adult life we was successful and was able to make a family all on his own together with his wife. They produced two healthy young children and loved them and cared for them as much as any other parents would.

The truly sad story of Roman Welsh begins in his thirties. He was invited out on a hiking trip by some new friends he and his wife made during their pregnancy. It was a hiking trip destined to the mountains, the Yawning Cleft more precisely. For Roman this was exciting, he did not know why but he figured that because he had never really experienced anything outside Porrheim, save for exotic trinkets, food and literature imported into Porrheim, this was to be something of an adventure.

The group of friends set off by transportation on wheels at first, just to arrive in safety and to keep up to good anticipation of mountain hiking. As soon as they arrived at the feet of the Yawning Cleft they started trecking and their spirit was high. It was all new for Roman and he enjoyed it to the fullest, even the exotic leafes on the trees made his senses explode with admiration, and needless to say; there were many leaves in the Yawning Cleft.

Eventually the group arrived at something that was new to them all, not the object they say itself but the look of it. They had arrived at a well and the look of it was ancient. There were no other word to describe it. It had a inherent mystical feel to it and not long after they saw it they started to make up stories of what this well was used for when it a long time ago was used regularly. It was proposed by Roman’s travelling companion that Roman should go down into the well to see what was down there. After all this was an adventure. Roman saw nothing wrong with this and admittedly he was excited, almost aroused. But as it was is companions idea he could see no reason as to why he himself should take responsibility for what would happen down in the well so he immediately produced a note paper and a pen and started to write proficiently:

“I Shandor Ifelt, take full responsibility for all consequences and reactions that are produced in the event that Roman Welsh will descend down the Ancient Well located in the south east in the the Yawning Cleft.

Shandor Ifelt signs here after to agree with the terms of this agreement:________________”

Shandor, the travelling companion, saw no flaws with this contract. It was as regular as ever when you came from Porrheim. He signed it quickly and they shook hands. There after he fastened a rope in the roof of the ancient well for Roman to cling onto during his descent.

Roman stepped up on the rim of the well and looked down. It was completely black and the only sound coming from down there could only be described as silence. It smelled ancient, however that smells.

He took a steady grip around the rope and slowly transferred his feet from the rim to the rope. He held fast and started slowly to descend. He was better at it than he thought. However, after only a few meters down the well upon when he shouted up that he had not yet reached the bottom, his grip around the rope loosend and he fell. Shandor did not hear a sound from a landing, such as s thump, but when he shouted down to Roman, Roman never replied. Shandor was too scared to go down after him and instead he headed back with tears and emotional ache, to Porrheim to find help. For he was sure who was to be held responsible for this and when such responsibility is aquired, he thought, it is required that appropriate measures are taken.

August 25, 2010

Ladybird of the Heavens

Filed under: Monsters,Places — anteolsson @ 13:13
Tags: , ,

Once a year on High Summer the Ladybird of the Heavens descend from above to land in the Culminister Wastelands. Like a vessel from the space beyond, her majestic grace penetrates the sky and the troposphere to rest her black body and flap her ruby wings in the wasteland heat. It can be seen from far, of course, when this yet of deep red singles down. It is a spectacle that attracts sentient beings from around the globe.

The Ladybird of the Heavens is returning each High Summer on the exact same time, it has never failed to do so. What it is, however, or why it comes is unknown. Much due to the location of where the Ladybird of the Heavens descends. The Culminister Wastelands is a huge, perhaps gargantuan, piece of land made up of dry sand. It is so dry it does not even classify as a dessert. Because of this the place is never traversed and the life that inhabits the area, if there indeed is any life, is also unknown.

The Ladybird of the Heavens is, so, an unknown yet, or perhaps therefore, spectacular event. The event stretches over three days upon which it ascends to the heavens again, not to be seen for another year.

Once a year on High Summer the Ladybird of the Heavens descend from above to land in the Culminister Wastelands. Like a vessel from the space beyond, her majestic grace penetrates the sky and the troposphere to rest her black body and flap her ruby wings in the desert heat. It can be seen from far, of course, when this yet of deep red singles down. It is a spectacle that attracts sentient beings from around the globe.

The Ladybird of the Heavens is returning each High Summer on the exact same time, it has never failed to do so. What it is, however, or why it comes is unknown. Much due to the location of where the Ladybird of the Heavens descends. The Culminister Wastelands is a huge, perhaps gargantuan, piece of land made up of dry sand. It is so dry it does not even classify as a dessert. Because of this the place is never traversed and the life that inhabits the area, if there indeed is any life, is also unknown.

The Ladybird of the Heavens is, so, an unknown yet, or perhaps therefore, spectacular event. The event stretches over three days upon which it ascends to the heavens again, not to be seen for another year.

January 21, 2010


Filed under: Places,Stories — anteolsson @ 16:34
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The city of Thriceclan came to be after a war between three clans that had been forever fighting for the territory, that now is called Thriceclan. All clans were convinced that their clan were the rightful heir to the territory. None of the clans had any proof, or written proof at least, that their clans’ ancestors inhabited this land. All of the clans had traditionally been told through stories and rituals that their ancestors had lived this land in peace but that the other clans had come as foreigners and invaders. It was so in every clans’ conviction that the other clans should leave.

For outsiders the puzzle has, through history, seemed unsolvable. An enigma, a paradox.

After many years of insatiable feuds it seemed like time itself had grown tired of them. All of the clans prepared for the final assault. This without knowing that the other clans did the same. everyone was trained for killing, from the youngest child to the oldest wise man

When the planets and the stars aligned the three clans clashed in a brutal battle. It was fierce, so fierce that all were killed, except three, one from each clan.

In cowardice or in cunning, it is up for interpretation, each one of them was hiding during the final battle and they remained undetected. When the battle was over the three saw each other and were stunned by the lifeless bodies and the fright of being alone among enemies. It is said and told that these three knew that each one of them were outnumbered by two enemies. Again they found themselves in an unsolvable puzzle, until, like a spontaneous inspiration, they started to talk to one and other. They found that if they wanted to continue their lives they would have to come to an agreement.

Since then, Thriceclan has been goverened by the very same laws that were agreed on that day.

January 20, 2010

A story, possibly in the world of Seventh

Filed under: Places,Stories — anteolsson @ 13:09
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From Pyrahnea he came. Seeking only the new refreshing experiences. He had traveled his whole life but still he did not feel like setteling down. And especially not in Pyrahnea where people tended to have the same oppinions and were developing individuals and society in a far to slow pace. No, he was still seeking after the stop sign that told him “Here but no further”. Normal stop signs only had the sign but no complemental text to make sure the observer understood the message, he thought.

Now, on his way to Garnical the sun was making the sweat drain his shirt which in turn made the robe scrape in his arm pit while swinging his arms while walking. On the back of his Robe it said “The Academy”. He was an apprentice in The Acedemy and had been so for 15 years. It was while he was visiting Aeyh he got the interest for studying the “Sanguine Books of the long parapet”. He got offered a possition in The Acedemy during his visit in Aeyh. It was Hinyad Maya who offered him the title. Hinyad Maya is one of the most powerful people in all of Shil but noone knows of it. He is like a parasite, his whife once said.

The Academy in Garnical had a same-as-he-aged woman as a Lord and it was that that made him go this tireing road. She was not any woman. She was the woman that he thought possesed the Stop sign. This thought gave him energy to continue. 53 years old and many battle scars. The worst from The Sneaker war. The rumour said that she was among the wisest and the prettiest beings in all of Shil and especially in all of Garnical. Golden Hair with brownish coils adorned here head. A body more vigourous than a pentathlon athlete yet slim. A voice lovlier than the barch bird evening song. These were ofcourse only rumours, but no smoke without any fire, he thought.

Now he could see the sign “Welcome to Garnical – We do not only feed you, we have drinks too”. By the sign there stood a man dressed in a dark black robe without a hood. On his head he had a simple diadem in white and gold colors, approximately 7cm high resting on his forehead.

– Gooday stranger, or relative! What do i know?

– Goodday to you sir! It is a nice day. Don’t you think.

– Yes indeed. Where are you from?

– I have walked from Pyrahnea.

– I say! For how long.

– Seven days, he responded with a little hehe afterwards.

– Seven days! I say! You are being funny with me i see.

– No, no. I am honest as i can be.

The Guard snorted and considered what the stranger/relative had said. When he thought he got wiser he said.

– Well, that must be a new record. come follow me young man.

– Ofcourse. Where to?

– To Orfim the Sage and Gambler. He is the mayor in Garnical. He won this town not so long ago in a exciting riddle contest with Jim Jan Jos who was the mayor and drunken gambler in this town before. I must say I like Orfim better. He is more relaxed in some way. Well, well. Come on now. He’ll be interested in what you have to say to him.

– What is that then?

– What’s that?

– What am I going to say to him.

– Your trip, ofcourse. You have beaten the record.

– I see. and he is interested in that because…?

– The record is ten days at the moment. While travelling only by foot that is. If you can prove to Orfim that you have travelled from Parahnea to here in seven days he will probably offer you a very exciting job. In my oppinion working for Orfim is a joy.

– OK. Sounds fine. I must visit The Academy before the sun goes down though.

– If you intend to meet Manil Nilam you better follow me to Orfim. She spends the most of her time in his plasa as he have the most of the things she likes. Such as The Huge Library of Immense Historical Value.

– Yes, he very quietly replied.

While he was following the guard to Orfim his body got filled with joy and a feeling probably called nervousness. He so wanted to meat Manil Nilam. That had been the only thing he had thought of the last seven days and now he was going to be brought to her right away. He wished that he had had the time to take a bath and to put on some herbal oils before meeting her. He had always found it easy to speak to women but he was not sure about this one. She was not like other women, he had heard. She pretty much showed her opinion to a person right away. Maybe it was this that made him nervous, he thought.

Now they stood in front of the gate and the guard knocked quite hard but not stressed on the big door. He heard quick tapping on the floor. This meaning a woman will open the door, he imagined. Quickly he fixed his hair and cleared his throat once or twice. It was the maid that opened the door. She was very pretty but not attractive.

– Oh hi dear, she cheered to the guard. What brings you here again. You forgot something?

– Forgot something!? I say. Absolutely not. It is a different matter this time. My friend here says that he walked from Pyrahnea to Garnical in Seven Days.

– Nonsense! He can’t beat the record with three days. Impossible.

– Yes, I say. But he insists. I just want him to meet Orfim. Can we come in?

– Oh, excuse me. Ofcourse you can. Allow me, she asked so she could get the guests shoes and place them on their correct spot.

The maid guided them through a corridor were strange dead animal heads were hanging out from the walls. He could not recognice one of them. They seemed to come from past times. The corridor was very long, it must have been at least 200 m. When they came to the end of the corridor they came to a huge room, a ballroom of some kind. He could not estimate how high it was to the ceiling but it was extreemly high and there were windows going from the floor up to the ceiling. The windows were crystalised so he could not see through but enough light came in to make the big ballroom feel like you were outside in a big garden on a sunny day. There was one window though, on the east side, that he could see through but it was too far away for the moment so he could not see what was outside. From the ceiling there was hanging big crowns with candles in. Not lit in this moment as it was in the middle of the day and the sun was lighting the whole room on its own. The floor was made out of long planks of Redwood. Redwood is amongst the rarest kind of wood and not very often used as floor material. He remembered though that King Rim the 8th and his militia during the first Dragon war was using Redwood shields. It was said to stop both the hardest blows from melee combat and also the Dragons fire. He could not recall if he was thinking the truth or not but as The Huge Library of Immense Historical Value was in this building he was sure he could look it up later this day. He did see the symbolism in this room because in the middle of the room there stood an enormous Black Dragon. It looked like it was real. But how the hell did they get this one into this room, he thought while scratching his chin.

Come along, the maid shouted as he now stood still and absorbed the environment.

They ran across the floor to catch up with the maid. She opened a small door pushed it with one hand and took a step backwards.

– Take these stairs up and you take an imediate right. Then you keep on walking until you come to a circle formed room. There on the floor you will see a symbol. Do not ask me what it is because I have no idea. Anyhow, Just stand on the symbol for some seconds or minutes, it depends.

– Depends on what, he asked.

– Actually I am not sure what it depends on but by experience I know that the time Orfims guest has to wait in the Circle room differs from time to time.

– Is that so! Well well, Lets get going then.

– It was nice meeting you.

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