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 Posted: Mon Feb 05, 2007 7:39 am
After Took's disappearance, a short bought of panic set in. Was Progolo going to die? Was this the way his life would end? By drowning on his way to an Island that he hadn't wanted to go to anyway? What about the others? Myrrh, Taal, Yaraif, Kununo, Kuntu...his mind drifted to the jars. The Jars! they could have floated miles away by now!
"Yaraif!" Progolo yelled, trying to get her attention. She zipped over to him, looking as though she was about to cry.
"Can't find Kuntuuuuu!" she sobbed.
"Yaraif, listen! Take Kununo and keep looking for Kuntu. Yaraif, wait! Listen...I need you to find those jars, alright?" He gasped for breath. His arms were begining to ache from stroking. "Yaraif, do you understand? Yes? Good. I'm going to swim to the island!" He pointed to the shore of Ar'Idil, which was about seventy yards away.
Yaraif nodded tearfully. Turning, she repeated the message to Kununo. The little rabbit, miraculously staying airbourne despite its tiny wings, chirped in response.
That taken care of, Progolo turned his attention to his other charges. "Taal, C'mere boy...good boy..." Progolo coaxed the steaming Griff. Taal paddled over, looking completely dry even though he was up to his neck in water. After making sure Myrrh wouldn't slip off his shoulder, Progolo began fighting his way to shore.
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Posted: Mon Feb 05, 2007 8:09 am
Ar'Idil Roleplay
------------------------ Quote: Pages 8, 9, and 10Progolo manages to get to the shore with his whole party intact, if not deeply shaken. There he meets Sanar the aerandir and Chao, her parent, who directs him to the Ar'Idil lodge. After sleeping off a few hours and failing to find Anthony Blakewell, he makes his way to his new 'home,' menagerie in tow.
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Posted: Mon Feb 05, 2007 8:13 am
--------------------------
Progolo located Number 3 with little trouble, even in the darkness of the Ar'Idil night. He stood on the front stoop, with Yaraif weakly clinging to his collar, wondering with sudden alarm where his key was. He'd put it in his suitcase...but Took had packed everything away into that magic bag of his.
He pulled the magic bag from where it was hooked to his belt and peeked into it. It appeared to be filled with sand. How did these things work anyway? He reached his hand into the bag and willed, key, give me the key...
He dug around in the sand, felt something hard, and pulled. He was shocked to find that it was the handle of his suitcase. Somehow managing to pull it from the comparatively small bag, he dropped it on the stoop and withdrew the key.
With a click, the door swung open, revealing the dark interior of the small lodging.
"Home sweet home," Progolo said wryly.
-----------------------------
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Posted: Mon Feb 05, 2007 8:53 am
-Journal- Arrived in Ar'Idil. Feel like crap. Details later. Need sleep. -Progolo
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Posted: Mon Feb 05, 2007 11:45 am
Progolo yawned, stretching his sore muscles, and tiredly glanced through his latest journal entry. It expounded on his adventure of yesterday much better than the one he'd scrawled down before he collapsed with exhaustion just a few hours ago. He rubbed his eyes, before finishing off the entry.
Anyway, after all of this pandemonium, I managed to set up a small sleeping area on the second floor of my new cabin with the blankets and pillows that were left in the house for me. It's far more spacious than I thought it would be, and its very homey, in a rustic sort of way. Now all I need to do is get the furniture out of Took's magic bag and set everything up, then see if I can find a man by the name of Anthony Blakewell. I was told that he would know what to do about the horribly mangled flamingo feather.
He scrawled his signature messily in Sorceric, before closing the curious-looking leather-bound tome. The crest on its front glowed softly as the book magically sealed itself closed.
The researcher sighed, and looked around blearily. He was leaning up against the wall, blankets and pillows strewn comfortably but untidily around him, on which his charges were all quietly curled up. Most were awake now, and gazed at him in the weak light of dawn that was streaking through the window.
"Ahya," he gurgled dully, a traditional morning greeting in his native language. With no small amount of pain, he reached over and pulled the Aerandir jars near him, considering. What should he do now? He thought about all of the pamphlets that had been ruined and left as litter on the dock guiltily. What a mess...why hadn't he thought to pick them up before he'd let Took herd him into that blasted boat? Come to think of, he'd left the box itself there, too, along with the broken glass and the journal in which he was supposed to be recording his stewardship. He'd have to get something else to write in...he had no intention of letting the Aerandir staff paw through his personal journal, with all of its lovely private angst. He highly doubted anyone would be able to read it anyway, as it was in Sorceric.
"Yaraif," Progolo mumbled. The kun-kun looked up at him from her nest of blankets. "I need to go out, alright? Can you make sure nobody causes trouble?"
It seemed weird, asking a five-inch fairy to babysit, but she was the only one who would understand him. She murmured and nodded, tiredly toying with her antennae.
"Try and keep them all up here, please. I'll be as fast as I can."
He pulled himself up, gasping in pain at the stiffness that had claimed his muscles. Carefully, he worked his way towards the ladder-well, cursed at himself for deciding to sleep up in the attic instead of down where he wouldn't have to worry about a ladder, and delicately, slowly made his way down.
--------------------------
A trip to the Lodge proved unsuccessful as far as finding this Anthony Blakewell was concerned. Due to the time, the rest of Ar'Idil had yet to stir. However, he did manage to clean up the room as he'd sworn he would as well as find a few of the provisions and foodstuffs he would need. Progolo felt guilty taking the food, despite the fact that it was intended for this very purpose, so he only took enough for a few days. He would not enjoy having to raid the lodge for things he didn't pay for. It just didn't sit well with his nature to take hand-outs.
He returned to his lodging quickly despite his soreness, as if afraid to be seen with the food, and stashed it upstairs. This ordeal didn't feel right, he thought, looking at the pile of provisions. Perhaps it wouldn't bother him so much if he actually put them away, where he wouldn't be able to see them most of the time...
Progolo squirmed uncomfortably, his mood foul. Eventually, he decided to settle his conscience with a generous donation to the Aerandir project. Yes, that would work...that way he would feel like he'd actually paid for the food, instead of just taken it.
Satisfied with this solution, he left the free food where it was and, picking up the storage bag that held his things, made his way down the ladder.
Once he was standing in the center of the main room, he puzzled over how to get all of his possessions out of Took's magic bag. He wasn't even sure what exactly Took had shoved in there, so he couldn't summon everything by name as he had the key. Finally, he just upended the bag.
At first, only sand tumbled out, but it rapidly expanded into recognizeable pieces of furniture. So rapidly, in fact, that his breath was sucked from his lungs as the furniture sapped the air out of the room to make up for the added mass. (Magic though it may be, the bag still had to obey the laws of physics)
Progolo squeezed himself out of the corner he'd been thrust into.
"Wow," he grinned. "Neat, eh, Yaraif?"
The kun-kun, who'd almost been crushed by a bed-side table, gave him a wide-eyed stare.
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Posted: Mon Feb 05, 2007 12:21 pm
Progolo quickly realized he'd underestimated the size that the Aerandir houses would be, once all of his furniture had appeared. He wasn't sure what he'd been thinking, but one thing was certain; it looked as if he'd be living a very Spartan life. He cringed.
Not only that, but what little things he had were all going to have to remain crowded down on the first floor because, in his stiffened state, Progolo could do little in the way of moving furniture around. He could hardly walk, much less lift heavy, solid wood pieces up a ladder.
And, of course, he couldn't ask for help. He didn't know anybody, besides Chao, and he doubted that his brief encounter with her warranted a request for manual labor. Besides, Progolo had a certain aversion to asking for aid. Call it pride, call it shyness--whatever the reason, it was fact.
"This is fantastic..." he grumbled, rubbing his head. His Aerandir could already be dead, Progolo was hurting in places he didn't even know he had, and, to top it off, his lodgings were going to be stark and untidy.
The neat-freak within him quailed.
"Well," Progolo sighed, talking to himself, "I suppose I'll just--WHAT THE *&$#@!?"
This outburst startled both the man that had provoked it, as well as Progolo himself. Upon turning around, the researcher had found himself almost face-to-face with pointed visage of an elfin man. The resulting cuss-words had almost jolted him as much as the man's appearance, and he'd immediately assumed a defensive combat stance out of instinct.
The elfin man in question shared his unsettled expression, but only briefly. "Forgive me...I didn't mean to frighten you," he muttered in a voice weighted with an exotic accent.
For a moment, the researcher's surprise at this sudden appearance was matched only by the surprise of hearing that the being could speak English. Progolo's expression changed from one of shock to one of recognition, and then embarrassment. "Oh...you're...Took's...?"
"...Servant," finished the Djinni, with a mixture of tired contempt and, under the surface, pleasure. "Yes. You remember me, then?" he asked quietly, brown-gold eyes soft and curious.
"Yes..." Progolo said, casting his eyes over the man swiftly, absorbing details. It was, indeed, the same man he'd seen Took bullying yesterday. He'd been briefly fooled by his height, but now that Progolo was looking at him properly, he could see that the man was actually hovering about a foot off the floor in order to be on eye-level with him, with his legs poised gracefully beneath him, the way Yaraif often held herself when she was floating in place. The Djinni, however, remained stationary, instead of flitting around like a fey. Faint curls of smoke wafted up from his feet, which were bare and slightly claw-like. Upon closer inspection, his hands, too, which were folded with quiet dignity across his chest, were also tipped with sharp nails.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, straightening from his stance. "I didn't mean to cuss at you...you startled me...I didn't expect...how did you get in here?"
"I'm rather used to that reaction," the Djinni responded, with apologetic amusement. "Forgive me...I did not think to knock before I came in. I don't...visit, much."
Progolo exhaled, finally feeling his pounding heart slowing to a regular rate. "Oh...no...not a problem. Please, make yourself comfortable...as best you can," he added weakly. "What can I do for you...sir?"
The Djinni looked a bit uncertain at this invitation, and remained where he was. "My Master sent me to retrieve his magic pocket from you...he couldn't be bothered to come fetch it himself," he answered, arching one well-formed brow in a disgusted expression.
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Posted: Mon Feb 05, 2007 2:19 pm
"I see..." Progolo said, sharing in the Djinni's distaste. "Here, let me remember where I put it...ah, yes," the man stiffly made his way around a couch, stooped, and collected the bag. As he made his way back, Progolo's companions began to edge towards the Djinni curiously.
"You have lotsa shinies! Heeeey...you have no wings! How you fly, hm?" Yaraif demanded, eyeing first the man's extensive number of glittering necklaces and then his feet suspended above the floor.
Progolo made to explain what his silly little Kun-kun had meant by her outlandish gibbering, but before he could, the Djinni responded in flawless kun-kunese, "I don't need wings. I use magic."
Yaraif's mouth dropped open comically.
"You speak Kunkunese?" Progolo queried, holding out the bag.
"I can speak the languages of all fey," he said, taking the pocket and inclining his head in thanks. When he looked up, his handsome face was marred with discomfort. "I must go...my master's patience is...scarce."
"Well, your 'master' can burn in the afterlife, for all I care," Progolo spat, eliciting a weak smile from the Djinni. Then, gently, he asked, "What's your name?"
The Djinni's eyes darkened. "My...name?"
"Yes. Will you tell me what it is?" Progolo repeated, looking at the other intently. Yaraif alighted on his shoulder and glanced at each of them in turn.
The Djinni avoided Progolo's eyes, flushing. "I don't believe I have one."
"...What?" Progolo asked in disbelief, his eyes softening with a horrified, pitying outrage. "What do people normally call you?"
"Just...Djinni. Though my Master will occaisionally call me 'Scum', 'Wretch', or some variation of 'Idiot'...Everyone else calls me 'Shorty' or 'Handy'."
"Well, I certainly can't call you any of those things..." Progolo murmured pityingly, thinking unkind thoughts about those who'd given the poor Djinni such unpleasant nicknames.
"Sahin."
"Excuse me?" Progolo asked, jolted from his wandering thoughts.
"Sahin." The Djinni repeated, gold eyes clouding. "Sahin. That's my name. Ali Sahin. Please...call me Sahin."
Progolo stared at him for a moment, before smiling softly. "Well met, then, Sahin," he said, utterly failing to properly produce the exotic name with its proper accents. Feeling slightly foolish at his mistake, he extended his hand to the Djinni.
Sahin flinched, unfolding his arms as if to defend himself from being struck. Progolo's face softened. "I'm not going to hurt you, Sahin."
Sahin's lips parted, and, again, his eyes darted hesitently between the extended hand and Progolo's face. Awkwardly, he reached out and lightly grasped Progolo's fingers and, to Progolo's embarrassment and discomfort, stooped slightly to kiss his hand.
"Um...you don't have to..." Progolo began, as Sahin's lips touched his skin. He faltered, dismayed by the expression of servitude. "I...I just meant to shake your hand, Sahin, you don't have to kiss me..."
Sahin did not answer as he straightened. His expression was inscrutable. "I should go," he said finally, releasing his weak grip on Progolo's hand. He retreated, floating backward in the air. His gaze wandered over Progolo's puzzled but kind expression until he was swallowed in a cloud of scented smoke.
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Posted: Tue Jun 12, 2007 1:55 pm
Journal.
Today proved to be an interesting day in many respects, and by interesting I don't neccessarily mean good. For one, I have discovered my lodgings are rather lacking in, shall we say, desirable accomodations for myself and the child I will eventually be caring for. The building itself is fine, but, it appears I underestimated how much furniture to bring. What's more, what I did bring is unattractively jumbled on the ground floor, thanks to my complete lack of knowledge on how to use a magic pocket. Splendid, isn't it? I suppose I'll simply have to arrange to return to the mainland, retrieve more furniture, SOMEHOW get it to this island, and SOMEHOW manage to move some of my furniture upstairs, before my lodgings are deemed safe for a child. And this time, I won't be taking any 'help' from that ego-maniacal Took character...
And, speaking of Took, I had the pleasure of meeting his servant today...an odd character at best, though I don't believe the blame for that lies with himself. It seems he did not have a name until today, when I asked him what I might call him...after informing me that he usually just goes by 'Djinni' and occaisionally a host of undesireable nicknames, he asked me to call him Sahin. Ali Sahin. A rather attractive name, I think, though it is odd that he thought it up on the spot. At any rate, I hope I will be able to see him again. His slavish manner intrigues and worries me. He would not shake my hand when I offered it, but flinched as if afraid I was going to hurt him. I wonder if Took beats him...? Took is such a delicate character, but he certainly seems to have the temper for it...Perhaps it isn't fair of me to think so negatively of Took, whom I hardly know, yet he hardly gives any reason not to. The Djinni's behavior only encourages my disgust...both the way he acted this morning and the way he acted yesterday on the dock. Sahin seems so...victimized. He manages to conduct himself with a certain dignity, but that only makes it all the more painful to behold. I wonder if there is anything I can do for him...?
Unfortunately, I don't believe there is...I don't know who to ask about an abused supernatural servant, as much as I'd like to bring it to someone's attention. Besides, I may be overexaggerating the situation. I do that often...Perhaps I've misinterpretted what I have seen and heard.
But I doubt it.
At any rate, I have problems of my own to deal with. My soon-to-be charge has shown no signs of life. I'm not sure whether this is normal or not. I need to research...
-Progolo
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