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When Zephyr jumped and made it in first try, Oby and Amerie claps
When Haures jumped and stumbled a few times, Oby, Amerie, and Zephyr claps
When Isaac Jumped---more like flew with Peacock, Haures and Zephyr claps
When Ipos jumped and struck his head before crawling in, nobody claps.
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“What are we to find princess?” Oby asks for the third time with everyone else looking for what the princess describes as something that can fit around her neck. Isaac thinks that it is a necklace, passing by a black band that looks like a choker under her bed. Zephyr on the other hand, wants to collect the moss around the humid corners. Haures looks around in the cupboards for more than five minutes thinking that it is a different cupboard every thirty seconds. All before Ipos, who is still on the ground and lazing around, finds the black band under the bed.
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“I-I Is this it?” Showing the choker to the princess,
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“It is! It is! Oh, how lovely!” yanking It from the goat and decorating her neck. The black laced choker fits perfectly. “Thank you Ipos, now little Oby,” turning to the little elf boy whom she pats his bald head with, “Let us not waste time and head on there, quickly!”
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“Of course!” Oby smiles before looking over his shoulder to see that Isaac has been staring at him, his voice trembling with nervousness, “Uhm, it is a bit embarrassing to be stared at. So, can I help you with…something?”
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And Peacock smacks the realization into Isaac who bewilderingly ask “What? Where am I?”. Everyone found him funny except Oby whose pointy elf ears burn beet red.
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“Well, first of all, I think you two can become great friends!” Amerie says, with her feet repeatedly tapping the floor, “But I think we can go now to the festival, yes?”
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“Of course,” Oby says, glancing back at Isaac and giving the staring boy a sweet smile, “Let’s be friends along the way.”
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A sweet, sweet smile that he has never seen before. Between the lord magister and Oby, both seems entirely different individuals and Isaac’s thoughts linger on a fact that he cannot forget. No matter how many times he tries to, even along their walk to the clustered straw houses, he cannot believe that the elf boy next to him is Ober Vanderhawk. “Your ears…” Isaac points out,
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“Ah~ this?” Oby moves them up and down, cutely like how Lochness or cats does, “I’m an elf.”
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And if he truly is, then why would the present Ober have no pointed ears? Instead, he had bandages and complaining about tinnitus…
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Ringing
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Ringing
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Ringing
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All in his ears that Ober bangs his head against the pillows. Gritting his teeth as sweat and tears soak out of him. The moonlight curses at his restlessness.
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Ringing
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Ringing
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His ears chiming the hell out of his eardrums. Bloody bitten lips. He screams but there is no voice. He asks for forgiveness but the princesses stand beside him. Before each of them settling on the bed, cuddling with the lord magister, drowning him in their skins---
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Ober gasps himself awake. Cold sweat flying off his forehead as the cold gale washes him. No moon or sun, only void grey clouds watch over him. His head on Merry’s mane with Bell strapped as a safety bet around his and the horse’s waist. He sits himself straight, shaking his head off the vexing nightmare.
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Tall grass overly stretches far into the bleak horizon. Their blades holding dew tears. Few trees and sprites barely roam around. Unlike the undead who culls and are like farmers, wandering around the plains. Then, the occasional grassland bandits lay in the grass before pouncing themselves too Merry. Ober is does nothing, staring blankly for the front while Bell cuts the old man some slack. Slapping the barbarians with one giant draconic hand. Most become a mangled garbage, some mutilated. And Ober, simply stares forwards, dark and spotless eyes begging for forgiveness.
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He wants to try and smile, for the festival is coming. For the festival is being prepared, and the invitations are sent. Smooth sailing too! So, he tries to smile, and question himself who the smile is for. For himself? For the Noirs? For the Glory days? For the princesses? Mægfæge festival is coming, and all those invited are neither entities nor spirits. The old man tries to recall, Mægfæge being the most celebrated traditional festival for all. From their tiny creeks of Kinguin to the largest walls of Eternium, every sprite, spirit and entity knows about them, and by this time, this day of when the sun should be out and the skies are clear, there should be many of them. Yet, like the vast shadowed meadow of the prairie, it is empty.
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Then, comes a travelling merchant with his wagon of cabbages passing through the hills, and Ober asks, dead in the eyes, “Are you coming for the festival?”
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To which they reply in question, “What festival?”
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“Mægfæge…”
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Tilting their heads in question, “My bearings are coming for Kinguin trade, and lucky me when there is a festival! Merry more the better!” with a wide and optimistic smile,
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“Then…I would like to ask you something”
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“Get yourself some sleep oldie…I think you need it”
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And Ober nods before asking, “Have you seen a plain spirit from where you came?”
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“The road past? Mmm, Sorry oldie, eyes of mine do not see any weird those”
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“I see…well, fair travels and business…”
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“Aye, a…mind I ask?” The merchant calls Ober back, “Bandits around these parts, from your road past, are they around?”
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If he means the ambushing bandits around the plains then Ober nods, “But it is safe, your road ahead is safe” Since he made sure that none of those bandits will be able to pounce at any passerby for the day.
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Merry continues forth, towards the forested mountain ranges. The pebbles growing larger and familiar. This is where he had woken up in a wagon and realized that he had been caught by bandits. A lazy river creeps the side and falling leaves lay dead around the branch cluttered dirt path. The bleak sky grows shadows in the woods and Ober asks Merry to continue at a slower pace. Carefully walking while the old man looks around, blurry towards the foliage sights ahead.
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Monkeys screech and squirrels hop around the branches above. Swinging before one of the squirrels lands on the road in front of Merry. The horse was about to stomp it flat when Ober halts her. His ears ringing in his wrinkled yawn.
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Merry still wants to stomp the squirrel and she picks up her pace to a trot and proceeds to the spiking foliage. Her hooves raising dust and breaking fallen branches. Ober wants to urge the horse to stop, pulling on the reins but his head brings his hands to cover his bleeding ears. Bell had to strap the old man again to Merry’s waist, and trying to help him sit up. “It…” gasping in between wrung groans, and pained breaths, “It is near…” And Merry bloodily stomps the squirrel—its eyeballs pop towards an abandoned broken house. Ober raises his head, slowly as the ringing dies down. In front of the wreck, he sees a lady in white---a banshee with a knowing glare at the old man.
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“Ober…” She calls, “Avanhawk…”
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Gripping the reins and trying to calm his shaky breath, Ober tries to turn Merry but the horse sets her eyes on the ghastly banshee. “We have no time for this, Merry.”
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“Right…you…have…no…time”
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Merry charges for the spirit, trying to bite its head off with a deadly echoing chomp. But the banshee shrieks pass the horse and clutches on Ober’s shoulder.
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“YOU…HAVE…NO…TIME!”
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Uttering silent words and a flash of light blows the banshee away. But recovers herself in the air before swiftly returning and baring dagger sharp mandibles, screeching and ringing the old man to cover his ears. Bell tries to block the banshee but it simply passes through her and bites true on the side of Ober’s neck. Noticing how Ober is simply sitting there, not doing anything at this undead, Merry quickly gallops back to the dirt path and frustratedly snorts.
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The banshee---almost being pulled back, latches herself off Ober and retreats to the wrecked house. And Ober still remains unresponsive with Bell tending to the chomped off flesh on the side of his neck. Merry thinks whether she should head back to Kinguin or continue looking for the plain spirit just as Ober wished to do but it seems already too late. The sun is slowly dying, blanketing the sky in bleak orange. There is no time, and heading back is dangerous. Merry knows and saw the number of undead around Kinguin’s plains. So, she heads forwards to Queenuin, galloping as fast as she can to rush themselves out the forest.
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Dream on
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Dreaming
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Of Time past with Lover Beauty’s glow
Flaring through absent years that ended in snow
By his devotion for the Immortal Amaranth
Of Time lost in his chest full galavant
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Then comes the pages torn in history
Burning 13 eons with the seventh in hold
By his nobble and seven faced folds
Then comes by years through misted mystery
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Ober once again gasps himself awake in cold sweat. Merry cantering along a familiar road. Following a trail of glowing dust and runes which she stomps on and destroy its light. “Those are my runes…” Ober says in a hoarse, asking Merry to continue stomping on the runes. Leading them to a hill where there are gargoyle skeletons. Along with Hemrean bones under Kinguin armor. Ober remembers, this is the site where he and Adviser Horney were left behind by the barbarians. And where the White Blood Knights saved them from the over grown bats.
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Particles twinkling in blue and cyan hover around the deathly site. A scene that he recalls to be similar from when he was young—a scenery of the future, a scenery that happens now. All before the ground rumbles and suddenly shakes. Frantic birds squall away from the growing hill and Ober looks down at the vast plains and forest where they had come from. A familiar sight and familiar feeling.
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Ober slides off Merry and ask her to follow. Running around on what seems to be a floating hill but, the old man knows of when there are balls of light on a ground with apple, mango, banana, and other fruit trees all on one hill, it is where he sees a thousand or so merry spirits, sprites and entities playing with friendly monsters and entertaining Hemreans.
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They all merry around this walking hill, around this plain spirit and there on the other side where a part of the barbarian camp still lays, a glowing rune catches their legs. Ober asks Merry to quickly destroy it and when she did. The ground once again rumbles, quaking as they fill the hill dropping, gently next to another hill---That which also erect itself from the ground, and transfer to an empty plain.
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Ober’s moonlit eyes gladden to see the plain spirits move again. The clouds part for the moon rays to cast across all over vast stretches of grasslands. With giant silhouettes of hills all taking their slow and quiet steps towards Kinguin. Ober remembers---his eyes peacefully closing without any pain---
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Remembering of Past calling
An exciting ride with the princess and her beastlings
Countless plain spirits walking forth Kinguin
Healing out empty ruins and celebrating with the Mayfairy, sovereign
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