Got it. Too dead to comment. Maybe I'll tell you the story tomorrow.
Azeltir
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Monday, March 5, 2007
Cone Sitting!
Haha! I finally have gotten it down to a matter of practice, rather than luck. On one of my first days down here, I had managed to jump on a cone, Topsy-turvy-wise, but only tonight was I able to repeat it. Twice.
I learned that jumping does indeed make the cone fall, as I can no longer shift my balance atop the plastic, and that people can indeed tip me over by jumping into me. Surprise, surprise.
Still, I think it's miraculous that I can dance atop a cone. That's like angels on the head of a pin, or whatever. Now, I just need to master the technique... I think I'll be practicing in Gahreesen. Haven't been down there in a while.
Azeltir
A Movie Star is Me?
So, apparently, I got filmed a while back. This must have been shot around January 20th, which was when I first came down to the Cavern. I'm not wearing my Yeesha shirt, which is a sure sign that I had not yet taken my Journey.
I'm playing Ahyoheek, third from the left of the filmer. It's funny, I don't remember anyone taking down a video camera. Maybe it's some function of the KI of which I'm unaware? Anyway, I'm pretty sure I was laying waste to my opponents that day.
Azeltir
I'm playing Ahyoheek, third from the left of the filmer. It's funny, I don't remember anyone taking down a video camera. Maybe it's some function of the KI of which I'm unaware? Anyway, I'm pretty sure I was laying waste to my opponents that day.
Azeltir
Sunday, March 4, 2007
My story today; beginnings continue
Why do I start today? Why now does pen touch paper, do fingers prod keys, do data fly across clear cable across the Earth from me, to Google, to you?
I felt good today. I still feel good. Because I led a group through Eder Tsogahl.
This is rather humorous, to me. I acquired my rewards for cooperation there not by cooperating at all, but rather by fortuitous happenstance. Both of my arrivals at the most recently explored garden Ages found the Spiral Door jammed open, so I, impatient, hesitated not a moment in leaping through. I have tried to aid, in attempt to reconcile this selfishness, other groups who sought this next service to our Bahro allies and brethren, but each exploration of the gardens ended in boredom and frustration, with others leaving until only few were left. Or my cell phone would ring, and I'd be called back to the surface for some errand or chore.
It was during my last attempt prior to this evening that I finally learned how to read the door. It took a few mistakes to master it, but having researched the method behind the madness of these doors as I would have during my shadow days, I learned quickly. But then, I had only three aides, and time would escape us before we could blink. I gave up. We all did.
But this evening, after the rush of wind and confusion around Negilahn, I heard a request to help a couple explorers through the door. After rounding up some others, we arrived at the Age of Eder Tsogahl, and we divvied up roles. Being among the only two who could read the door, I volunteered and was chosen through undisputed appointment by the explorer who had requested our aid.
I was nervous. I started to run the preliminaries, the stage where we determine which cloth produces which signal, a trait unique to each instance of the Age. It was perfect, I would discover, and I was confident then that I was right. Apprehension toward the next step gripped me, though. I had never seen anyone successfully open the door. Which crying method worked best?
I pushed the button.
The symbols flashed, I called them out. A rumble. A failure.
I laughed; I had not suggested a protocol. Quickly, I planned an order for the calling out the symbol-numbers. Instead of crying them as they flashed, I would remember the total sequence, then say the whole thing. Once the wheel began to spin, I would shout the next cloth that required attendance.
It worked. Perfectly. The door sank, and all those who needed the semi-annulus leaped through. So did I, and stopped to watch the door as it fell, standing in the nether region between the darkness of air-Link and the shining barricade of metal which locked me from the outside, where pastoral brightness and odor frolicked and picnicked. I shot this picture:
And so, in joy, I revved up the internet, the home of my middle explorations as a shadow to the community, a Marentan, a follower, and began this work. For now, finally, I want my voice to be heard.
Azeltir
I felt good today. I still feel good. Because I led a group through Eder Tsogahl.
This is rather humorous, to me. I acquired my rewards for cooperation there not by cooperating at all, but rather by fortuitous happenstance. Both of my arrivals at the most recently explored garden Ages found the Spiral Door jammed open, so I, impatient, hesitated not a moment in leaping through. I have tried to aid, in attempt to reconcile this selfishness, other groups who sought this next service to our Bahro allies and brethren, but each exploration of the gardens ended in boredom and frustration, with others leaving until only few were left. Or my cell phone would ring, and I'd be called back to the surface for some errand or chore.
It was during my last attempt prior to this evening that I finally learned how to read the door. It took a few mistakes to master it, but having researched the method behind the madness of these doors as I would have during my shadow days, I learned quickly. But then, I had only three aides, and time would escape us before we could blink. I gave up. We all did.
But this evening, after the rush of wind and confusion around Negilahn, I heard a request to help a couple explorers through the door. After rounding up some others, we arrived at the Age of Eder Tsogahl, and we divvied up roles. Being among the only two who could read the door, I volunteered and was chosen through undisputed appointment by the explorer who had requested our aid.
I was nervous. I started to run the preliminaries, the stage where we determine which cloth produces which signal, a trait unique to each instance of the Age. It was perfect, I would discover, and I was confident then that I was right. Apprehension toward the next step gripped me, though. I had never seen anyone successfully open the door. Which crying method worked best?
I pushed the button.
The symbols flashed, I called them out. A rumble. A failure.
I laughed; I had not suggested a protocol. Quickly, I planned an order for the calling out the symbol-numbers. Instead of crying them as they flashed, I would remember the total sequence, then say the whole thing. Once the wheel began to spin, I would shout the next cloth that required attendance.
It worked. Perfectly. The door sank, and all those who needed the semi-annulus leaped through. So did I, and stopped to watch the door as it fell, standing in the nether region between the darkness of air-Link and the shining barricade of metal which locked me from the outside, where pastoral brightness and odor frolicked and picnicked. I shot this picture:
And so, in joy, I revved up the internet, the home of my middle explorations as a shadow to the community, a Marentan, a follower, and began this work. For now, finally, I want my voice to be heard.
Azeltir
So it begins, this new Journey, of pages which never touched a book
So I, Azeltir, will begin.
I have considered the name Marentan, before, for that was what I was: Marentan tso Yeesha. Follower of Yeesha.
I had a Relto book once. I went and freed one of the Least, and saw the miracle of falling through history. I failed to follow the Path of the Shell. I regret this.
Months later, I returned to the Cleft, but found myself overpowered by malignancy about the tree of the first Journey. Time and again I tried, until, in frustration, I abandoned the pursuit. I turned once more to my studies on the surface, but shadowed the story of what transpired beneath the earth of New Mexico. I read forums, journals, web sites, searching for news, pictures, and experiences of the world of D'ni. I was sated, but not satisfied.
Until I found Relto once more, buried amongst my camping gear.
I grinned, and here I am.
And finally I can assure myself that the Ending had not at all been written.
Azeltir
I have considered the name Marentan, before, for that was what I was: Marentan tso Yeesha. Follower of Yeesha.
I had a Relto book once. I went and freed one of the Least, and saw the miracle of falling through history. I failed to follow the Path of the Shell. I regret this.
Months later, I returned to the Cleft, but found myself overpowered by malignancy about the tree of the first Journey. Time and again I tried, until, in frustration, I abandoned the pursuit. I turned once more to my studies on the surface, but shadowed the story of what transpired beneath the earth of New Mexico. I read forums, journals, web sites, searching for news, pictures, and experiences of the world of D'ni. I was sated, but not satisfied.
Until I found Relto once more, buried amongst my camping gear.
I grinned, and here I am.
And finally I can assure myself that the Ending had not at all been written.
Azeltir
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