A Stream of Energetic & Pressing Thoughts

It had been a very long day and Puck's sandy-gold hair had grown to shoulder length, just with the stress of it all. From sun up to sun down his hair could grow anywhere from six to twelve inches - his daily routine took a lot of grooming.

Although his fatigue could never be physical, it was real nonetheless - and more of an ague of the thought processes; a stream of energetic and pressing thoughts that were frustrated by unforgiving problems, when in a tangle.

Phillip Marsden was one such problem that kept flashing before him, as if to alert Puck of some impending danger he needed to attend to. Puck acutely felt the persuasion of his intuition, and so late though it was, he decided to go out yet again and check up on what Marsden was doing right at that moment.

When Puck arrived at the convention centre he found that the main doors were wide open and people were coming and going, packing up after the three-day extravaganza.

It was a comical sight, as more than a few were still in costume - there were super-heroes struggling with packed cartons and Goddesses, messy haired and smudged with bilious makeup, looking adorably human and very tired.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

The Interior was Quite Palatial

Puck was wheeling a very large cardboard box inside the tree-house where a small group of men were waiting nervously for him to arrive.

They sat looking at one another, fidgeting uncomfortably with their juice cups. They had no idea where they were or why.

The interior was quite palatial and very contemporary, nothing like anything this group had been used to before.

Puck cut through the tape, tore open the top, and pulled out a large leather jacket from the box he had just brought in - they nodded admiringly. He had picked a style he felt that they would all be most comfortable with wearing.

"There's one for each of you fellas" he said generously - anticipating their approval ahead of time.

Before handing them out he took stock of the material before him. They had no idea what they were in for - or how useful they could be. They didn't even know yet that they were dead.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

String Chips

WAR had developed a form of identification within the game they named 'string'. String was similar to a barcode, yet far more complex - using scanners on phone apps that could differentiate colour. String code was a series of incremental colours that could be translated into country, sex, member, number etc. - it also could update financial and status details, with the information concealed from the general players.

Their technology was 'smell' sensitive also - engineered with a code that could identify hyper-aromatic keynotes of the person to which they belonged. It refused to scan unless they were coupled with the exact person to whom it had signature coded in this way. This capability was unique to the Company.

The String Chips were coiled into flat discs and no bigger than a single centimetre. – Already a tenth of the world was embedded and catalogued this way. The ID was compulsory for a player to be part of the game – and whether online or in person, it came with fabulous discounts in every store and service available.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

Mega Solidarity

The WAR Convention was a popular event, held bi-annually in every state, in all the major countries of the world, simultaneously.

Once inside one of their huge exhibition centres you could see massive screens flashing living images that were relaying live feeds from sister events; bringing an excellent sensation of mega solidarity to every participant involved.

Men, women, and their children attended these special days wearing their lavishly apparelled costumes, decorated with extraordinary detail, replicating their online characters.

The hardcore gamers arrived in outfits that had cost them several thousand dollars to commission – one of a kind - dressing as Warlocks, Battle Lords, Alien Powers, Sorcerers, Sovereigns, Goddesses, Vampires, Demigods, and every mythical character imaginable.

They sported their tools of power that had been earned through levels won - signified with medallions and jewels that had been delivered to their doors via courier just prior to the event. Some of these prizes were of genuine gold and silver, studded with gems for those with higher levels accomplished.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series 

Clowns were Amazingly Unpopular

It wasn't until his last year of study research that he had discovered that clowns were amazingly unpopular and considered to be the root cause of many phobias, which lasted into adulthood. Shortly after he acquired the rabbit suit from a pawnshop that was closing down. Some junkie had brought it in a box with a few other things and demanded money on a day when cash was in short supply. He had pulled a gun on the lady who reacted in kind, and had killed him.

Although his suit was tainted with tragedy, it was a quality item nonetheless - being a perfect fit, and had a lightweight breathable fibre that never overheated; large dark glass eyes to see out of, and real angora fur. The ears added an impressive height. So as sad as the story was, this suit had really seemed 'meant' for him and he loved wearing it.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

Three Gold Coins

Yang refused to let Puck pass through and wouldn't say why. It took several attempts and three gold coins for Yang to look the other way while he slipped through. When Puck finally reached him, Eric was crying pitifully and his tears were smudging the tattoos on his arms and the words there were all dissolving into a blur.

"Hey Eric, you wanna get out of here?"

Eric could not hear him and did not see him - he did not believe in the Fey, or even Hell for that matter, and this was now blocking his perception of what truly was.

Puck reached over and touched Eric's hand. Eric yelped and shrank back - he thought that another of those sharp needles was pricking him.

Puck hated to admit it, but the Guardian Yang had been right - Eric simply wasn't ready yet. It was going to be one of those mornings.

He patted the cowering man on the back sympathetically, and resolved to return as soon as circumstances were worthwhile. With three more coins he asked the Ape on the way out to let him know when Eric was up to being released and could go home with him.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

The Ape at the Gate

But now it had come to this. He strained to see what surrounded him in the dark, but could not make out what was real and what was fatigue flying at him.

Strangely lit forms would suddenly appear right in front of his face bobbing up and down, and then flash backwards with a shriek before disappearing.

Worse again were pitch-dark blobs that hovered weightily in front of his eyes, like clouds of squid ink that were blacker than black, drifting frighteningly close, until he pushed their soft cold forms away. He could not sleep, he had to stay vigilant - these things kept coming. Eric shivered with misery.

Puck had forgotten to collect Eric sooner - he had intended to do so but had so many other things on his mind of late.

He checked in with the Ape at the Gate who - being extremely surly - was giving nothing away but attitude.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series