Teleportation Misconnection

Charley grimaced mockingly, and then flashed a knowing smile directed at her father walking beside her. They were strolling down a corridor of silver elms on the pathway that led to his country estate.

“You simply cannot show up like that at my place of work” she said shaking her head.

“And, most of all, do you have any idea how embarrassing it was to have you found in her bed?”

He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. The pair looked a picture of ease making their way through the woods as they were. The sun was always warm there, and the leaves hummed their usual soft woodwind song; thoughts were calm - there was peace all around.

Puck no longer appeared elderly as he had when Robyn had discovered him. In fact, by appearances, he did not seem far from Charley’s age on this day to look at him. Although he stood over a full two heads taller than her, there was no mistaking the two as being related - they shared the same elvish features, and that long curly hair.

“It was a simple misconnection with my teleportation … I always land myself into the guest bed - how was I to know you would have a visitor there?”

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Turning a Blind Eye

“A groat for the Chapel and four pennies for my dogs." The six Dalmatians were sitting beside Francis, each one leaning in, right up close. One was with the milk eye, and another had a canker bulging from his fur. Overall the group appeared to be kept very poorly.

The men looked at one another. Francis knew they had no groats to give. Murmur shuffled his feet with the numbness crawling in - he wanted to go home.

Granoldi groaned deeply out from the trench, as he was still lying in its slump, attached to the cart and corpse.

“Your hounds have the weevils” said Francis, inspecting the top of the largest one’s head. His tone was respectful. The dialogue was naturally coming to an end, as none of the men were enjoying the cold.

“I’ll return in the morning and bring balms for your spotted friends and fix what I can with their pox also. And bring you three new pennies.”

Tobias leapt down into the grave and drew out the ties from the white bear’s harness. 

Granoldi wriggled out from the leathers and scrambled up onto the dirt standing full height beside them. His imposing frame seemed more obvious in the moonlight.

“Very well” the old priest conceded. “Let us conclude our transactions with agreement, and depart. You can just leave her where she is and I will see to it that the digger covers her over in the morrow.”

“We had some prayers prepared” objected Murmur. Meanwhile the hounds were bristling at the sight of Granoldi. They shivered and growled, cowering to the protection of the men.

“Best be going then” they conceded, believing him at his word that she would still be in the plot by morning.


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Sacred Ground

"You cannot be burying her here. Not in this plot, not in my land, not of this sacred ground.” His voice trembled with the emphasis.

He continued: “This sinner has no place here to rest, and you must take this witch away right now. She’ll be offending the good spirits, not to mention the children who are buried here. There'll be no coming back to collect her in the morning, do you hear?"

The old Priest admonished the three as though they were schoolboys taking part in a prank. He went on:

"You’re wearing some clothes now I see" he jibed with a sarcastic drawl staring at Francis. He then went on to recite the canticle in full Latin.

"But Father" Tobias began ...

"But nothing my son! There'll be no excuses or explanations! Be away with you lads - we've had much too much intercourse with the dark arts in this area as it is. They slime all the surfaces, and invite demons to hover over the outer walls. I have to walk through a crowd of the undead every night when returning home, and I care not for their ways at all.” he said shaking his head.

"How much will it take?" asked Francis knowing the Canon's dance with words - that his meanings would toss the truth every which way, until settling.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Dalmatians

A candle lantern was lit in the doorway of the manse nearby - and the resident Priest took no time to set the spotted hounds upon them.

Alexis, the Father to the farmers, bred Dalmatians as an income for his house. The stipend from the Church was never enough to support his large and growing family without this honest supplement.

He had taught his hounds to attack upon command, yet sit quietly at prayer time with the greatest obedience.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Some Coins for the Digger

The cart felt very heavy and Granoldi strained with the weight of it. The body had seemed to gather the weight of eight men.

When the path finally flattened, the three monks coaxed the wagon along with a push and a shove, the help of a bear, and an enduring psalm sung.

With just a mile to go up the road, they congratulated each other as to the success of the night’s venture.

Finally arriving at the burial spot, they found three holes side-by-side, with fresh clay mounded around them.

The men were pleased to see the arrangements had manifest. Murmur had given Hannah some coins for the digger who had prepared these lots. All seemed to be going very well.

Granoldi shuffled a little too close to the edge and promptly slid down into the hole, dragging the cart behind him as well. As it fell on his hind leg, he yelped.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Elvin Masters

Claude Monet

Many of the masters of oil painting will be revealed to be quite Elvin, having hidden pictures within their works, veiled to the humans, yet obvious to their own.

You can find these in any gallery today - especially in the Fine Art department. This is a great secret to the highest of prices they fetch ... with another picture embodied upon the canvas, being a grandiose whisper of worlds within worlds. They spoke to the Humans subliminally even though the Mortals were often blind to their message.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Ethereal Vision

The small corpse beside him groaned. To his annoyance she seemed to keep doing this every time he made a comment. It was beginning to get on everyone’s nerves. Granoldi squinted at the bulge in the flaxen sheet stirring.

"And what of the baby bones? Do we take those with us also?" asked Tobias a little timidly. He was not wanting to do this collection.

Vivien had littered her home with objects carved and moulded from small bones. Her cutlery, her combs, even her false teeth were all of crafted bone.

Some, she had polished, and assembled into parquetry, which later were cleaned with a paste made of finely ground bone.

Francis could see with a forensic certainty what was once belonging to another human, and what was not.

His eyes saw life in all substance, and added to this he could perceive its nature also, made apparent in shades and blends of other-worldly tones - colours that mortal men could not ordinarily and plainly differentiate - for this vision, his vision, was ethereal.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances