Tele-transported to the Bodhi Retreat

Pro Hart

The outback diner aptly named the Who Roo offered a big breakfast all day long, with unlimited refills at the cafe-bar machine, of help-yourself coffee, powdered tea and slurpees of frozen ice in shades of blue, red, and something green.  


Goober served himself an icy blue cup with a double shot of the azure goo that discharged abruptly, letting off a satisfying hiss and a squirt, sludging into his pint-size cardboard cup. 


He returned back to the booth where Puck was looking under his pancake as though he was expecting to find something there. 


“Tu would have liked this place” he said wistfully - he was fond of the lad and sorry to see that he had not make it very far this time. 

* * *

Five years earlier …

Scabs and vomit clung onto Stuart’s matted hair, through which many sizes of lice busied themselves with orderly pursuits throughout. 

When Puck had found him face down, the corpse had already been cold throughout the chilly night: a melancholy heart had let his spirit adrift. He, the ghostly soul, had no where better to go; and it sat beside its scrawny body as if it was waiting patiently for it to wake as usual.

“Here we are again my friend,” said Puck gently to the hollow spirit.

“There is no place for me”, Brogan replied to the sombre Fae. 

Puck clasped his hand to his forehead in exasperation. The elvish do not cope well with mortals who feel defeated. The two sat together for a few hours longer, until the first lick of light appeared.

“I know of a place that might be good for you” he finally said. “the Bodhi Retreat, a community I know well, and I do trust the people there to look after you and your recovery …”


Minutes later he had tele-transported them both to an iron doorway set in a garden wall that surrounded the monastery completely. Without having to announce themselves the door swung inside open, and a noviciate welcomed them in. 


“His name is Stuart,” Puck said nodding to the monk who recognised him at once. “But you can call him Tu, for short.”


-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Grumbly Tummy

Puck asked Eve and Needles to stay back at the caravan park to be on the look out for Jupiter, just in case he showed up trying to find them all. Puck could sense his presence within the world, but not pinpoint the exact co-ordinates of where he might be, or who he might be, for that matter. If he turned up as a bear again it would just add to their problems at this point.

Meanwhile he and Goober went to explore the town with as little attention drawn to them as possible, and so for the main part they both wore their cloaks of invisibility - unless of course they needed direct contact with a local for information.

There was nothing that directly showed ties of Romulus to the Pathological Biochemical Warehouse they were investigating. Puck knew however, that regardless of paper trails and the dynamics of ownership, Romulus had commissioned those cargos to go directly into the underground warehouses, and without any doubt he was the direct owner of the ships and their goods within. Puck expected these operations to be discreet.

There was a shuttle bus that travelled to and from the complex twice daily hauling at the back of it a trailer that carried supplies from the local grocer to the workers there. It had left for the morning, and so the two hitched a ride on the back of a postal delivery van that took them thirty miles directly to the gates of the Unit. As the van sped away from them, they stood on the hot dusty road, looking at one another.

“It’s old energy out here, don’t you agree?”

“Old, yet young at the same time” said Goober thoughtfully. He picked up a smooth branch and plucked the spikes of it. “Make for a very nice walking stick” he added.

The wire gates were not padlocked, but a rusted sign swung from the wire saying: “Enter at Own Risk”.

There was absolutely no one in sight. Goober had developed a cough with all the dry dust flying about. There was a private road from the entrance that took them to a building that had the appearance of a metropolitan art gallery. Its facade was made of polished steel that jutted up in varying directions in shapes of long titanium crystals which seemed to be purely ornamental, with laser lights at the very top of each point which may have served as navigator points for incoming helicopters and light planes. These pointed rods were also razor sharp, and so the entire roof was covered with gigantic blades.

A moat of snakes six feet wide ran across the front. At the entrance there were double doors of reinforced steel, polished so finely they mirrored back the images of the visitors, with one difference, they were bent slightly to distort the reflection, alike to a carnival mirror.

Being the hottest part of the day the snakes were dozy and complacent. There was just one slim bridge of stainless steel across the huddle leading up to the doors where they needed to be.

“Looks like we’ve come to the right place, Medusa herself is probably lying in that pit” said Puck matter-of-factly; then noticing that Goober was counting on his fingers absorbed in thought.

“What in Pluto’s name are you doing that for old boy?”

“I was trying to remember how many hours and days it has been since we’ve enjoyed a proper meal.”

“It’s been a while I’d say - can’t remember exactly.”

“First there were those eggs out at the monastery - ate nothing in Faerie - had just a snack-pack with Jupiter in the stink-hole, and afternoon tea at Pine-tara’s - and now we are here, and it don’t look promising.”

“Fine - I hear you. I never thought about how much you miss your food Peanut … would you like us to go and eat somewhere and then come back to this fortress to pick up from where we left off?” This was meant to be slightly sarcastic, however Goober took Puck at his word.

“I would much rather save the world without the effects of a grumbly tummy.” Goober answered truthfully.

“Very well” said Puck, “food it is.” 

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Jupiter Lands

Jupiter-Granoldi sat at the water’s edge and wanted to weep - a sense of desolation enshrouded his usually buoyant being. His costume was smeared with the strange mud that lay all about, but worse still was the feeling of abandonment, of being cut off from the chaos and surprises of the Earth, along with his soul-mates, who had now just left him behind entangled with his sorrow.

It did not cross his mind to blame himself in any way for the troubles they were currently fighting, for no, his worth was clear. Simply put however, he missed his friends.

“Fi! I needs be creative” he said out loud, looking over to where Jacob’s stairwell had manifested earlier. Surely these heavens were not his home and could be no one’s reside until they were restored…

* * *

Dawn is hinting, glinting its glory over the slumped horizon. The Royal Botanical Gardens shivered with the breath of the morning and the birds chatted their jubilant heralding.

“Fie” he exclaimed so loudly that it broadcast throughout - (FIE was an older term, an abbreviation such as FFS is today, with a similar meaning of exasperation and surprise).

His landing had been complete with all but one consideration, for he was not incarnating within the body of a bear this time, as he done with becoming Granoldi, Jupiter found himself within the still warm corpse of an early morning runner - a sportsman, who had dropped to the ground with a heart infarction just moments before. This he could reanimate, but not without effort, for it was considerably deplete of any energy it might have once had. Before long however, he was up and running again.

The ladder had dropped him not far from his friends - it had an uncanny compass for organising and personalising its coordinates.

In many respects Jupiter was considerably pleased with himself to have fallen into a human form this time around, for there were so many more freedoms to be had, far more than that Granoldi could have known. It took some moments to accomodate himself, focus his eyes and measure his strength. Within minutes he stood upright and although the body was still stunned, and its prior spirit had evacuated, Jupiter’s vigour was nonetheless returned, and for once he felt what it was like to be truly human.

He gazed across the park to see a clump of shops on a country road. He felt through his pockets and found a wallet and a phone. The wallet was stuffed with cash and cards, and this pleased him to find, whereas the phone not so much, and so he threw it in the lake.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Atlantean Paradise of Australia

Once upon a time the rivers ran gold in the Atlantean paradise of Australia.

Before it was reduced to desert, this country was touched by an etheric splendour: perfumed gardens were imbedded with mega fauna and fluorescent birds, tropical fruits lanterned the burgeoning boughs, berries, cherries, draped from the bush, alongside pineapples that grew the size of a small child; this was the old world where citrines and amethyst glittered in the caves, and knobs of gold shimmered throughout the water-falled rivers.

And yes, there were dragons, but even these did not torch the earth into the red rusty dirt it is now … for that was the work of the Rainbow Snake - menacing and vindictive - unearthing the earth, bringing a spiteful peril into the iron rich soil.

And yet, and then: ferns became lungs; and eucalypts, their salve; tousled wheats grew in sanguine grace beside the bright wild flowers and sugar canes. The white sands were the living kidneys of the land, through which the rivers and rains were filtered; the honest soil, the liver; with ants and bacteria being the stomach; with minerals, the same minerals of the physical mortal form, imbuing their cosmic forces in trails within a network of nerves, electric and resonant, throughout the trembling land.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

The Dark Elves

It really never was about Mankind - as endearing as mortals are, they are but as the infant king - and do not know yet of their reach or their influence in the greater plan.

To possess the soul of a man is to take control of his spiritual aids (to some extent, though not entirely). The dark elves were obedient to a commanding force, separated from the mortal that they ordinarily walked through life beside.

Harnessed by a unique magnetism of the blood, a mutual key, the angelic elves were unquestioning, as their service was compelled now by Romulus and his dark intentions - they were not capable of reflection or conscious behaviour within this mortal sphere, or responsible for their deployment either.

Romulus, and others of the dark arts, do not care at all for human beings, they simply perceive them as a means to an end - to take possession of their spiritual powers by stealing their kindred beings with their mystical resources disenfranchised.

The dark elves driving the convoys, and those sitting atop guarding the pallets and the containers, had a mixed appearance of many tones, yet all had a shadow overall that denoted an absence of light - and, as though hypnotised, there was a deficit of divine thought or any recollection of a former self about them. They were well and truly enslaved to a stronger single mind now driving them all.

And being detached from the realm and the spirits they know and love, they were to be pitied and not decimated, Puck acknowledged to himself.

“This rescue is going to take more than I thought” Puck said to Goober packing up for the night …

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Problem in Australia

“Did you sink em?”

“Nup” Puck shrugged his shoulders as if he could shake the question off - it had been a tiring few days.

“Did you take them into the another world?”

“Nup again” here Puck looked over his shoulder as though someone might be around them listening in. Goober was excited because he loved guessing games. 

“Now, what would I have done with a fleet of six thousand, three hundred and thirty six ships?” he asked out loud.

“And the cargo, which is kindof more important…” 

“A two-part mystery … hmm, yes! I see now!”

“Okay you got me - tell up!”

“Firstly, all I did was make the lot invisible - the entire cavalcade - imperceptible, I should say. It works for a time. But if you studied the waters you would still see movement and channels from the engines. I saw no reason to deter their progress.”

Goober nodded. It made perfect sense. “And you wanted to convince the evil one you had taken them?” 

“Yes quite. But we will get to that later.” Puck continued: “Australia is the perfect place to hide such a cohort, and this is where I need help … Romulus himself is due to reach the mainland in a few hours.”

"You might not have thought this through to the end I’m guessing.”

“You could say that”, said Puck thoughtfully, distracted by his own questions … “but then, who knew?”

“And the evil one - who is it this time?” Goober appeared uncomfortable when he asked this. Suddenly he was awash with a panic attack. 

“Marsden - bloody Marsden is at it again - he came back.”

The elderly elf was genuinely bewildered. He had thought that this heartless man had been dealt with and was doing time somewhere in community service working as a gondolier. 

“You can’t make this stuff up!” he said in exasperation trying to take it all in. The worry of it was: how on earth are they to contain this demon if the very courts of Hades could not do it.” 

Meanwhile, there was the problem in Australia…

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Ships that Pass in the Night

As far as the eyes could see fleets of cargo ships and runway vessels crowded the Pacific Ocean’s thoroughfare. Thousands of newly forged warships accompanied the aquatic cluster.

And then, all at once, it was as though a Bermuda triangle had swallowed the entire cavalcade when it disappeared. Each and every one lost its radar signal and went dark, and once again the vast blanket of heaving seas lay empty.

However kept - whether whole or distilled - the cargo in each and every one of them was human. Australia offered the perfect land mass to store this mess of biology - for beneath its centre, concealed by the uninhabitable red desert, were ancient catacombs, vast and wide, that enveloped such huge underground spaces you could fill the entire state of Texas within their sprawling tunnels and still have room for beasts and men besides.

The ventilation there was masterful, providing oxygen and warmth, with solar light and power as well. Ghost gums shimmered above, rocks covered rocks, and boulders covered holes, holes that went to tunnels into dark and secured places, with city space covering city space; first created by the Atlantean pioneers of old.

A convoy of trucks lined the wharfs. Many were like steel trains having connecting parts where containers were hoisted onto their plates and stacked six deep, depending on their width.

The workers all went about their tasks in an eerie silence, save for a hypnotic humming of a uniform tune that came from the men wearing orange reflector vests and caps with the insignia of the company that owned them.

Puck had managed to bring the boats back into sight when they began docking, and after each were emptied he dematerialised the vessel and transported them one by one to a place that was safely far away and out of the control of their owner.

Romulus, he had discovered, had made a massive investment in these ships, vessels that doubled as mercenary naval assailants, and Puck had no intention of allowing him to make use of them again for this, or any other purpose again.

To the human eye the vehicles appeared ‘automated’, and many trucks were in a procession leading to and from the docks, nose to tail, for miles, trailing from the collection bay at port Darwin (ironically named) and then on their way into the underground Fort. There they were unloaded and refuelled, only to turn back and retrieve more cargo over a day later.

Puck stood keeping watch. He blended in wearing the usual country attire: a rabbit felt broad brim hat to shield the sun and a khaki shirt with sleeves rolled high - even at 6am the heat from the rocks was rising and the warmth was pervasive. He kept count as the vessels on the dock were decanted, and disassembled, and when each ship was out of the harbour he de-materialised its entire bulk - steel and all, and transported it far far away to a place that Romulus and the likes of Romulus could not get their hands on them again.

This process took an enormous concentration and after six days he just wanted to rest.

Of course it would have been far easier to sink the lot in the deepest parts of the ocean on their way to the port, but that would never do because even he could not have retrieved the passengers and their bloods once they had dispersed into the dark salt waters, drifting fathoms in every direction, contaminating the vital cells and what was left of their living connections. No, this had to be managed properly, and this time he had to keep strong until the very last vessel had been safely secured.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series