Category Archives: 0408

March 11, 2020 · 7:51 am

angles

—–

“Don’t turn around Jeffrie. You’ll draw suspicion — eyes everywhere here in Fearzum.”

“Okay.”

“Just listen.”

“I’m listening.” Jeffrie Phillips was patient that way. That’s why they paid him the big bucks.

TronAxis continued, leaning in a little closer. “There’s trouble in Urqhart, Jeffrie. The story there ended too soon and Baker Bloch has to fill out the rest. *Your* mission, if you so choose — and that’s why we’re paying you the big bucks (Jeffrie Phillips nods here) — is to find out who lives in that Gothic House on the edge of Centre Sink. Just a little over there in front of me. He stares toward the small, granite topped mountain in that direction, knowing the central sink lay not far beyond.

Jeffrie Phillips, from his angle, was looking toward a larger version of the same, intuiting that the answers they seek lie in that direction as well.

“I’ll get on it as soon as you pay for my breakfast,” Jeffrie requested, knowing he was well worth it. Later researchers found the tab to contain 3 eggs, toast and waffles, although they weren’t sure who ate what since it was all in one bill.

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February 3, 2019 · 10:57 am

windows

At the Jaeger’s Hat, Rosehaven tourist Donald Farr gets a big laugh out of a jukebox style gramophone that comes to life and sprouts arms when touched. The castle scene behind the sentient record player is actually a false window, which becomes important a little later on. Reminds Donald that he’s made friends with a Rosehaven castle owner recently, and wonders if it is the same structure he presently calls home. King Tull (or King Tully). We’ll get to him soon as well.

In looking behind him now, I realize that the false window of 10×6 panes, if extended into a square, would represent 100 panes that have become one through the castle.

—–

Donald enjoying his second house whiskey at the Avalon Estate irish pub and dance hall, the first being so refreshing. Good thing he’s not driving, walking and teleporting being his only means of transport while on vacation. When did he have to be back to work? he ruminates through the inebriated haze. Perhaps never, hehe.

—–

Hmm. Donald remembers a building that could be rented on this parcel before, which now is vacant. He had his eyes on it, but the rent is a little steep for his traveling budget. He just wants a place to rest his head between exploring jaunts. Perhaps one of the nearby cottages is available now. He’ll go check there next. He can only impose on King Tull (or Tully) for so long. Plus it’s pretty much a fur piece from anything out where he lives on that mountain. He’d like to be closer to the center of all things Rosehaven, and the cottages fit that bill.

—–

—–

Darnit! The edge cottage that had been available for several days was now rented. He missed his chance! Music is heard within — a ragtime tune being played on an out-of-tune piano. It draws him in; there’s a welcome sign as well. Plus he’s still a little drunk and uninhibited. Is this a private parcel? He didn’t care. He felt it should be his.

He opens the door and walks inside…

…. to find himself staring at himself.

“The missing building!” he cries while twirling about.

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January 18, 2018 · 10:29 am

resting place

“Well it’s a beautiful mausoleum they’ve built for Furry Karl, bless his soul.”

“Yes, Baker Blinker. Jacob I. and Broken Heart intuited the death in the near future and prepared.”

“So Karl was a member of the pirate’s guild. No wonder he was always looking over his shoulder!”

“And he never made peace with those woods, that tree.”

“And in the end, that kind of did him in,” she continued the thread. “He didn’t have enough information about them. Too scared to follow through with certain lines of investigation.”

“Like the existence of the two Lucky villages, the center of the second built on the circumference of the first.”

“Wop, wop, wop,” Baker Blinker illustrated with her chopping arm.

“Wop, wop, wop,” Baker Bloch echoed.

They both stood silent for a moment, taking in the atmosphere of the new interior. Baker Bloch then walked over to one of the other coffins inserted around the walls, a more modern looking one, like Karl’s.

“Terry over here, then, Baker Blinker,” he indicated. “Let’s hope this is the last death for an Audrey’s bartender in the foreseeable future.”

“Here’s to *that*,” Baker Blinker says while raising her strong German beer in the air and then taking a big gulp.

Wiping her mouth with her sleeve, she then makes a request.

“Sure,” Baker Bloch replies upon hearing it. “You might as well see how it fits.” She gives a thumbs up, changes, then enters.

“Marvelous, Baker Blinker. But the wall has turned yellow again.”

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