Leading my First Quest: a Renaissance Adventure

So, I found an interactive story-telling job this summer.
Writing interactive story-telling for my games, such as The Curse of Allautou on itch.io games, was a fun new branch, as I tried to move away from spending so much time on my long-time hobby of reading, and reading about, the classic Marvel Universe- that is, up to the point where I was collecting as many comics as possible each month, and copious back issues as I could afford them. Why had I loved them so? When I was a boy, every peek at a comic book- my family bought me very few, but they were precious ones- gave me hours of pretend play. Cartoons and TV shows with adventure characters fed my imagination. Now, upon discovering Renaissance Adventures, a Boulder/ Denver-area organization that uses Dungeons and Dragons-style Live Action Role-Playing (LARP), I had a chance to parlay my healthy inner-child, love of story-telling, and nearly 6000 online classes one-on-one with kids (as with GoGoKid, DaDa, and SayABC companies- once, all three at once!) into a rich, if challenging, summer job.

<\br> The last component was my drift towards writing games to play on PC and your phone- mostly based on reading, then choosing your next course of action. I created all-original characters for each of my games, though without the D&D-style point system, as my program did not tally these changes. (There is a place for Variables, but I’d need more tutorials to make use of it. Would be fun!)


<\br> I wanted to get up with the times, partially inspired by the death of my good friend, David Anthony Kraft, my personal tie to the wild-and-wooly creative 1970s Marvel Comics Group. On the week of his birthday- our second one without him- I created a character named ‘Golden Dave.’ With a Stan Lee-flavored accent, GD was patterned loosely after Dollar Bill, an enthusiastic, wealthy young film maker who befriended The Valkyrie and the rest of the Dynamic Defenders (like Hulk, Doctor Strange, Nighthawk, and Hellcat, a.k.a. Patsy Walker, for you Jessica Jones tv show fans). With my little orange in hand, I ‘recorded’ the exploits of the young Questers I met each day, as I trained to become a Quest Leader for Ren ‘Ven. I ‘re-played’ a few events at the Friday Bazaar. That’s a marketplace where all Questers gather, to spend their hard-earned Silver on new armor, upgrades to weapons, potions, and of course, Pets- all in-game stuff.

<\br> Then, my first week of Quest Leading arrived.

<\br>

<\br> My first five kids were not, overall, certain of the choices before them. Are you mostly a Warrior? Explorer? Wizard? Mystic? Bard or Artisan?


<\br> ‘Shape-shifter’ became the watch word. Upon review, that was an ability Path, but what they wanted were Totemic Races. Once they got into Character, almost no one was deeply interested in changing shape, anyway.
I had an idea to get us started. We began our quest over an hour after Check In began, which felt like such a long time to make them wait, as they were not deeply-interested in choosing abilities on their Character Sheets. I felt compelled to get us into action as soon as possible, so, at 9:50 am, my first Quest began. With 20 XP (experience points) and numerous vague ideas, off went my Questers.


<\br>

<\br> I inserted an abandoned amusement park, indicative of the impoverished economy of this part of the fiefdom of Vard. Our story would reveal how greedy robber barons had taken some share of a dragon’s hoard, won by questionable means by the Marquis of Vardmark. Within its fun house mirrors, I borrowed the Illusions of Ikon from the lore of Doctor Strange. Each Quester, meeting for the first time as a group here, faced off against a living reflection of himself!


<\br>

<\br> ‘Axy’ was inspired by a paper mache Axolotyl, which was part of a display on Mexican culture in the Boulder Main Library, where we went for hand washing and bathroom breaks. He requested interaction with other Axolotyls, often- five of them were his Family. How do you balance game-breaking creatures’ usage with the heart-felt desire of a seven year-old?

<\br> ‘Snake Boy’ did wisely choose ‘Artisan’ as the basis for his abilities, which meant we had someone handy at repairs and picking locks on hand. One ability is Smarts, which gives you a roll for hints about Riddles and Puzzles- and best of all, some insight into the truth about Traps.


<\br> ‘Shadow’ took a combination of Warrior and Explorer abilities. He was your classic Red Ronin, to borrow a trope, always pushing boundaries of what we could do, what he was allowed. I really needed to explain that ‘Pierce’- which bypasses all armor- also requires a straight-line charge of twenty-five feet. I guess the Darth Vader backpack was some clue?


<\br> I did explain many times ‘Pierce’ didn’t work but once a day. You have to build Skill Levels for more. Believe me, as the creatures they faced, I was getting hit a hundred times a day. Maybe here, I should explain we use foam-covered Swashers, and use safety rules, limiting the force and places of contact.


<\br> ‘Firey’ had begun as an Elemental- for a few minutes- but decided to be a tiger totemic, a Tiger-Man, if you will. Firey had numerous advantages I tried to document. Only when I put in a request for his Character Sheet did I see where five campaigns had taken him, including Achievements that denoted a few allies I could add along the way- non-player characters (NPCs) who could provide assistance, materially and by information. This was the Quester most likely to climb all over you, with cat-like curiosity for everything in reach, including your Quest Booklet and its story secrets. Just as I had to ask Shadow to not hit me so hard- eight times- I had to ask Firey to please give me a bit of space a few times. I don’t think anyone smiled more than Firey.


<\br> Finally, there was ‘Rink,’ the youngest- whose name was an homage to Link and a type of Zelda character. When you play pretend on your own, you’re only as powerful (or not) as you decide. I tried to ease this shy combatant into joining the Swashing fun. It took me two days to hit upon a power he would have fun using.


<\br> After the Mirrors, they received a secret summons from the cat-lady Marchioness of Vardmark. Her twin daughters were missing. We made our way to her throne room and took the job. We also heard a slanted version of the crimes of the dragon, Ochinnikov. The marquis won this wager they made, you see, and instead of treating the trick with humor and making a dragon friend, possibly, the marquis declared himself winner of the dragon’s hoard. (Our program director was ALSO not fond of plot armor that depicts a dragon as too passive, weak, or easily influenced.)


<\br> Should you let a seven year-old float a Cheeto down a brisk, mini-rapids-dotted creek? We’re meant to leave Nature as we found her. I certainly discouraged whacking the ground and plants with the Swashers, as that’s not good for either sword nor surface. But there, braving the rapids, was our ‘ship,’ as launched by Shadow, drawing the attention of most of our group. They gesticulated with such excitement, reporting its progress to each other, as we sailed from Bahbka with our Bahbka bread, to the imperial capitol of Vardmark.

<\br>

<\br> So I’m going with ‘yes’ on the Cheeto.



<\br> The Greenteeth hoards (you explain you’re becoming one after another, when portraying any monster hoard) brought sharp teeth and natural armor to bear. In choosing their local ‘hideout,’ we had the perfect place for some ‘hide and seek’ to keep combat interspersed with Stealth. Why were they attacking the Bahbkans, who ran fearfully at the sounding of the church bells?
Oh, yeah, the bells: I had a handheld speaker, linked to YouTube on my phone. The next track was animal attack sound FX. Thanks, Olivier Giradot! These followed “Theme from ‘Excalibur,’” the rousing track from the 1981 motion picture I so love. Those slowly creeping-up notes crescendo as we take our first morning Quest steps. I had an Adventure Music queue which doubled in size in a week.

We pass through the mustachioed town of Usa, where the ladies, yes, the babies, even the swords and trees all bore mustaches. Yes, Firey: the mustaches DO have mustaches. We had to re-visit Usa on Thursday, you see, because Yours Truly spotted a pack of mustaches and soul patches. This time, they didn’t magically ask a mustache to slap the face on which it resided, so they got a warmer reception.


<\br> There are some sorta-mean things that are funny when you’re in kid mode. I was interested in feeling for where I needed to insert a bit of moral guidance and reminder of consequences to themselves and others. Going forward, I will be sure to divide my Story Teller persona into more NPCs, who can dole out plot points and ethical reasoning challenges from a more creatively-derived source.
Lore should come from meetings with Professor Knees, on his travels.


<\br> One thing that wasn’t so funny was this Chaotic spell that erased an entire character. Well, rather, the threat of validation of such a spell was a terror, to someone debuting his first fictional persona acknowledged by an entire group. You can tell I still didn’t 1) know what all these spells are, and 2) didn’t realize how I’d have to reassure someone who found such a threat no laughing matter. This came up the first time I was loaned two Questers to be fierce swooping Eagles along the Caverns of Doom, just before Ochinnikov’s Cave. I was like, sure, try whatever power you've thought up. Uh-oh.

<\br> Hey, I knew how the kid felt, when a Quest Leader said, day after I quested with them, that Golden Dave was whomped by a falling wall! My one-day questing buddies actually all tried to save Golden Dave, but someone decided he'd want to go out that way- a perfect drama to end his documentary about Questing, doncha know?

Discovering the cave itself started out promising. The sudden growth of the eight-foot tall dandelion, Jim Dandy, led to a nature spirit conversation with Axy. There was Magic in the Air, for certain. Ochinnikov’s Cave lay in the shade above on the bank, where several Questers already stood.



<\br> Now, Rink took some time to evolve into dueling with me-as-characters, much less anyone else who, he learned, might also hit too hard. So, in the middle of things, I suggested to him a power called Inspire. See, if you cast Inspire, you get a chance to dictate the Feelings of any other character you face! As with Intuition, Smarts, and other multi-outcome possibilities, we throw Rock Paper Scissors, in lieu of dice.
“So, Rink, I’ll be a bandit,” I said, on our group’s walk to the water fountain, earlier. I really spoiled them with foes on our way to routine tasks, when possible. “Now, when I jump up, I want you to say: “One, I cast magic; two, I cast magic; three, I cast magic.



<\br> Good! Now, you say ‘I inspire you to…’ He’d come up with some answers: you could make your foe hungry. Yes, you could make them even more angry, Shadow, but Snake Man is right, now he’ll be even harder to fight.”

“I inspire you to ...be happy!” said Rink. My bandit changed tone, struck a jaunty stride and did a jig, before dancing away to join the geese.

So, they’d encountered a dragon’s haunted castle on Day One, a place I filled with diverse opponents. I offered as little explanation as possible, so they could tackle the Undead, Ghosts, and Gargoyles who’d swoop out of reach (“One, I fly, two I fly, three I fly”) before dashing back into the fray (“One I dive, two I dive, three I dive!”). Axel the Dragon decided he like the cut of their jib, and promised to be a patron to their Quest.


<\br> I thanked the Oblivion-obsessed Quester and his follower, and explained that the spell would make one Quester cry- I know you mean ‘that guy,’ Shadow doesn’t care, but Rink is really bothered. So why don’t you guys go on back to your Group? You did a great job!”

<\br> Now, Axel came. With my calm draconic demeanor, I got a bit Meta and let Rink know, at RA, we never let anyone’s character be destroyed forever. Maybe some D & D players might think it was hilarious, but we’d never do that. Explaining that Axel could restore him in full didn’t shake his fear of Obliteration as a concept. He didn’t cry, but I asked him to hang on while I caught everyone else up to meeting Ochinnikov. I uncovered that, for one, he was afraid he didn’t know what you say for your Inspire power to work. (One I cast inspire, etc. might have been more succinct.) But I wanted him to think of how his Inspire power might’ve changed the feelings of his oppressors. With some more helpful interjections from Shadow, we had Rink laughing about the possible ways he could Inspire one foe to foil the other, and themselves. I even had ways that were funny and wouldn’t hurt them, but Shadow’s suggestion they smash the obliteration potion on their own faces...that’s pretty Inspired, too.



<\br> I think Rink left camp with more confidence in himself, as per witness how often I found him and Shadow bonding like brothers. He might’ve learned to make a Poop joke from this relationship, I cannot say, but Rink now joined in with the Swashing duels. I never got three of them to join the Camp-Wide Reindeer Games, but that may have had a lot to do with me hanging out. The games didn’t have powers and story- the personal touch. Me, I’m willing to be Autobots on the way back from the drinking fountain. Roll out!


<\br> Yes, we did find out what was going on with the ‘kidnapped twins’ and located the famous Robinhood-style thieves, The Cat and the Mirror. Thanks to a quickly-cast Inspire spell, Ochinnikov decided to trust these Questers. We partied! He slept in the next day, and we needed a puzzle solution to leave his cave.

Fyre said he had a great riddle, which did indeed eat ten minutes’ day-ending time. What does Luke Skywalker say at Christmas?

<\br> The answer, actually, tied into Day Four’s quest through the Dream Essence Realm. The punchline can be found in the epic heroic ballad I created with ‘Dandelion’ and her ukele and harmonica, in the town square during Friday Bazaar. If I could wait ten minutes for it, so can you. The risen moon in the afternoon was our omen for the direction onward.


<\br> And I think I’ll save the second part of this read for a post, tomorrow!
Every sight of us was divinely precious. And that’s how I’ll always feel about it, any time I’m out there. Let it be the great co-creation we deserve.

How does a grand idea become a story?

So, the day I join a new indie comics website, I get a request from someone local to draw a comic book that will make us legends. Well, you can't fault his enthusiasm, and without that, the most skilled and cerebral of minds still doesn't get very far.

So, I ask, what is the story idea?

He insists on talking about it. Uh-oh. Writers, write. They talk, but they set down their fundamental ideas, and make a thing called a pitch that explains why you would care about what has been written.

So, he wants a writing partner. Okay.

I ask: who is the character, what does he care about, is he happy when he wakes up in the morning, who does he love, what does he fear, where does he live, what are his weaknesses, what are things he needs to improve in his life, and so on. What's he look like?

Nope. It's apparently not how this idea works.

Oy.

So I ask for a pitch.

"I want to write about all the world's mythologies."

Okay, rich territory. So what's the first story? What's tying the concept together?

Then, I get a list, of a couple hundred world religions/ mythologies/ belief systems.

Enthusiasm!

Here was my response, complete with the beginnings of story inspired by this idea, detached from high-concept to provide the missing ingredient to demonstrate it in an understandable way. Can't wait to see how that plays out! Hope it gives you some food for thought in an entertaining fashion.



That's a terrific basis for studying mythology. What is your first story? What is the first thing you want to tell that has a beginning and ending? Who is its main character? What is the problem? What changes?

I was trying to tell you it may well be next year before we can draw pages, because of the projects I detailed.

"Finite" is a more concise word than limited--- I mean, a set number, as in, a set number of characters. Most myths revolve around two to five characters---not the mythologies, but the individual stories. See if you don't find it's true. There's nothing wrong with high concept---if there is a deeper psychological or spiritual set of questions you want to explore, that's great. But you have to set loose characters with whom your readers can identify in some way.


Remember, each individual myth has a person or god---a character---at its center, who then interacts with a limited cast of supporting characters. For example: we love Samson because Delilah tempted him and he sacrifices his life in an amazing feat: we care about Samson. We are rooting for him because we have been with him on his hero's journey, when he fights the lion, when he battles using only the jaw bone of an ass. He begins as one type of character, and changes, and changes again because of what he's learned.


Most important : decide on an ending. Even if you want to continue someone's exploits, you have to know where your plot's going. If you want to make a huge book with a story that's a couple of pages long, you still want to know how your chapters end, for the sake of pacing.



What type of story do you want to tell to start off your series? What is its tone? What kind of elements does it have, what places is it set. These are the things a writer has to understand. it really starts, though, with which characters you throw together. Some idea links them. Sometimes the link and the cast come together as though at the same time. You uncover the character's motivations, one at a time. You have to make a story that you find believable in some way, with its own, consistent logic.



My partner's started her own story borrowing two mythological figures and mixing them with three of our own, and is creating a plot she began five minutes ago. Something's stolen, so there's a plot, moving the action, motivating the characters.

She began with the characters she made, who have distinct personalities. Only by setting them loose with the other three will she hear the voices of the other two---Thor, and Samson, in this case---and from there figure out how their relationships work as they undertake their journey. She hasn't decided who is going to change, if anyone---the point may be that the gods are unchanging in their ways and the faerie Teasberry is great.

She's decided on a light, child-like tone, with a mystery at its center, so the bounds of possibility are wide. It may be no more than that, but it's a demonstration of how you develop an idea for a story. Some are based on character development, and some have less sophisticated representations, like those for an all-ages audience. (Of course, that could change...)

She is using mystery---that is, there are things the characters don't know at the beginning. In this case, someone's stolen Thor's hammer. There's always someone with an agenda at work in each tale.

Now she's added some romance (perhaps, as part of the history between two characters) and the Lady of the Lake, and I've added my two cents as well about how Thor gains the ability to look for his hammer. But notice how Thor and his unknown antagonist are the main characters around which the rest revolves. The antagonist, in comic books, really moves the plot, because they are the ones who create the circumstances that engulf the hero. It is interesting to give the supporting cast their own set of concerns along the way, so they, too, have stories inside the story.


Remember your audience does not know all of these mythologies, but only explain them and illustrate them in ways that move the story. If they wanted a lecture, they'd sign up for You must be prepared to introduce and develop every major character in each story, and let characters say things, demonstrate things. The audience may look things up after they read a great story, but they most assuredly will not do homework just to read a story. If they realize you are teaching them, they will run.

One other resource:
http://www.jimshooter.com/2011/04/storytelling-lecture-suggested-reading.html

http://www.jimshooter.com/2011/04/198-storytelling-lecture-part-1.html

As editor in chief, Shooter helped hone the trade of many excellent professionals and learned from and worked with the best, himself. His advice has become at least half of what I tell when answering creative questions.

Most of all, be prepared to commit to your craft for many years. Sometimes you will work on characters and ideas for years before you can introduce them, fully-realized. I suggest, since you are in school with this idea, at least a class or two, if not a minor, in anthropology, and write as much as possible, and as many stories as you can complete.

Good luck!

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So Truth May Survive

“So the Truth May Survive”
“Azuthar!” he calls from emptiness. He awaits a demon of the eighth dimension.

Sylvane’s eyes peer into the darkness, as he opens to the auditory place of Azuthar, a place where they co-exist and know each other---the dimension inspiring music to the human realm.

Across this seventh dimension bringing us sound, the archetypes idealize emotional portals that convey a sense of ourselves in the cosmos, but not so close to unity as to be subject to perfection (those of the ninth dimension are known as few). “zx..”

Colors seen in the fifth dimension, not meant to be paired with words without surrender to their intoxicating magic, open to create a spherical dial. He watches its surface rolling, effortless, inevitable, and then a glimpse into the pastiche of all realities seen if one’s consciousness dwells in the sixth dimension (so Oslar Bran had taught him when Sylvane visited the Citadel of the Children on the planet of earthly borne tomorrows, Kolpar. That time spent in the college invisible to mortal eyes had required the greatest price yet, until the one now at hand.

The harmonic, metallic voice, like an electric guitar, casts the sound of the spell, as the candles burn around the hotel room, barely lit here further in the sky than any window above the sea, lapping dark and eternal with our secret origins evolved divergently as it flows without difference to the air and all lands.

Peacefully, Sylvane waits for Azuthar to communicate---to open. The mercy he has upon his own soul balances him as he attracts a most tempermental and brooding personage, whose aggressive form required knowledge lest Azuthar sunder all one may hold dear.

So: as Sylvane begins to detach from words, he seeks his friends amidst the cosmos: the unheralded champion of Luxitica, Sun Strike, known before as Clay Alexander Reaves, in days when Sylvane made him laugh as they pretended their invulnerability, before the one who could help Clay most brought him the other two---his sons--- who would help him change the world with something better despite its insistence to test with pain and pain again.

Still Sun Strike maintains his power, there reaching out three hundred years from the place of his birth; he takes solar radiation, and, self-luminous plus expanding the sun ray focus, shines down upon the colony on a true moon, where his immortal sons pierce the secret to never-dying by the fountains unspoiled by many visiting without knowledge, searching the world standing in their father’s power.

The Valkyrie Maid appears astride her horse, thunderous to the mortal mind which beholds her. Winged for the stars, a super-hero of sixth-dimensional portions, Valkyrie Maid approaches Sylvane cold and icey as the vacuum itself. She sees Sylvane’s mind open to place he wishes to reach, his destination that would return him to his origin as well.

He knows the ability to see demons, for she has fended off many in her journeys between the courage on the battlefield and the lies made in place of the brave fallen ones, ever taking the battle-slain to their glory in what she calls Valhalla. With her Odin-created sword, she points to the direction in the void that clarifies Sylvane’s intention to meet with Azuthar, seen dancing like flame in his mind. She points, for were she to go in that direction herself, she would battle Azuthar furiously.

For this reason, Valkyrie Maid’s glare pierces Sylvane’s heart, and looks to what he holds dearly to his breast. Within Sylvane’s robe lies a block, which floats free across the void, making it obvious they would physically be face to face. He waits for recognition to light her face. Finally, the block rests between her fingers, sword sheathed as an after thought, and then is touched on four sides by her hand.


From each point arises a bright sphere of thirty points of light spreading out equally. The other three points unite and spin as one, orbiting the fourth. With their part in the spell, their extra-dimensional counterparts spin free of the spheres, in sixth dimensional bodies of legend themselves. Those forms wait, their presence giant in the distance here on the dark side of the moon. They prepare to safe guard Sylvane’s soul there on the outer rim of comprehensible existence.


The fourth sphere of thirty points becomes 26 symbols of chromosomes, and chooses to manifest now as a slightly glowing version of the human Frida Dylan-Reaves.
“You can use the block now to free the human selves of your family, while their spirits create my vanguard here at the edge of sanity. At least, I think we’re still on the fringe of the knowable.”

“Not that I’m not glad ta see ya, fuzzy wizard,” she says, “but why are you out here?”

“In your valkyrie form, you pointed out the way to the demon I must meet soon.”

“Yikes, man!” she says, shrugging. “But if I’m here, my man and my boys have got to be close by.”

“Couldn’t be closer,” Sylvane says, smiling. “Do you remember the adventure that led to you and Clay assuming cosmic forms?”

“Aw, it all started when we followed the Triplets back to that crazy world where my kids were baby-sat whenever fate transformed Momma into Valkyrie Maid.”

“It will come back to you more and more once we get you guys back to normal,” Sylvane says, “You’ve merged with powerful, superhuman forms starting with your vision of them in both cosmic energy and perfectly healthy human bodies. You all ended up three hundred years in the future, but I can provide you the thread back to your lives on Earth in the 21st century while your exalted forms guard my foray into madness, or perhaps wait to destroy me if I am corrupted by Azuthar.”


“Heavy!” Frieda says, whistling (how?). I know I’m going to regret asking, but why Azuthar? Sounds like a demon or supernatural power.”

“I have only asked one thing of Azuthar in my desperate summonings,” Sylvane replies, gazing off at the distant quasars beyond the M-class star floating with the moon base and its planetary body in its swirling tow. “I see your concern: I agree he is not to be commanded by any human under illusions as to his good, yet he plays a part in development of humankind, and his understanding will help complete the role of my cycle.”


“When appearing in the physical realm, he’s much less powerful---tho he seems brutal to most observers with the distinct displeasure of his company. Yet he plays in the lower frequencies, and so he has played a part in one final connection with my sister.”

“Are you …?” Frieda begins her question, then deletes its intention. “I hope Vado is doing well. Wasn’t she leaving the Dome Tribe for a journey, like her namesake?”

“She has,” he replies. “And this time, she must face her adventure alone, save for the kindness of one who will find her shortly. Her travel is a labor of great physical skill, and her survival depends on her keeping the path to Kohlit Gamma close at hand. She is willful and curious, and somewhat addicted to times of sadness, which cause her to explode with bitter frustration.”

“That is something that comes with being human,” Frieda says.

“Well, it’s learned more often than not in that state,” Sylvane replies. “But she has out grown her radio station and vegetable garden, and like a pot in need of transplanting, the need for her roots crushes her confinements or threatens they wither. She faces a journey now where I cannot help---I only seem able to harm with words, so I choose to be faithful to the vision of her success and fulfillment, empower that possibility. Before we discuss this any further, I think your memories return enough to strip the mask of concentration from your brow…”

“Yes,” she nods, “it’s coming back to me: I’m a valkyrie soul who chose to tread the world of Midgard to learn of the world of the slain heroes and their ways. And in that time, I was a normal girl, with a family…and even after the king of vampire kind revealed to me my nature and bond with death and life beyond, I still looked for the same thing…and took a hus---Clay! And my boys! Do you know…?”

“Let your soul sphere self free once again,” says Sylvane, “so that it may cleave to the others and present once again the man you help to make and the children to whom you gave birth.”

From Frieda’s closed eyes flow winds of cosmic generation, and before they again open, particulate globs create white silhouettes of bodies, while two sparks fly like meteors from their presence to rest in the slowly-forming water planet further out in the solar system. The single remaining energy divides in two, but not completely; at their stem of unity, a man begins to grow from a microscopic source, as the energy balls rush together with him at its center.

Together they join as one, producing a human version of Clay Reaves. The singular energy floats on, sending x-rays and gamma rays as they twist and combine and flow against the heavy, dark matter background, black crackles of energy radiant about their nimbus.

Their immortal sons stand in the waters of worlds without man.

With this honor guard to watch over his soul, Sylvane then turns his attention back to the floating human beings before him. He decides to provide a spell in connection with the witch from the borders of cedar town, the mysterious but generous D. C. Sharlet. Queen of hearths and homes, with a friendly smile she arrives on a cycle spinning star dust in her wake. “Who says these things are only stationary?” she chuckles. “Hullo, Fuzzy Sorcerer!”

“Hullo, D. C., “he replies. “is all gentle in the many eyes of the peacock?”
“She sends her cuddles,” D.C. says, slipping in a hug that envelopes Sylvane in a presence of great safety and nurture. “I thought I’d find you if I could pick the right moon of Saturn---it’s your ruling planet in your star chart, you know!”

By this inspiration, the magic in his heart and her special abilities evoke the human forms of Clay Reaves and his twin sons, restored to child form, tumble forth, also lit in glow, impervious to the rigors of space.


“I called upon your power to fondly grant these weary souls a time when they can be together and grow, if only for a few years of Earth time. Someday, it may be Me who needs that magical hitch, but now, I want to work with their cosmic forms, while they enjoy the human peace and love I hope one day to be mine again.”

D.C. the Witch turns towards her charges, the family of four floating freely.

“The power to return home,” D.C. intones warmly. “I remember when that ability was my great struggle. But just as I learned how to return home---to find dreams where I have a full life and home in more than one parallel world---I can help you maintain the dream link to this place where you have the power to seek immortality. But just the same, if I’m not mistaken, your heart’s desires are for home cooked meals and beds calling softly---to face another day on earth, passing time as a family while dreaming of immortal seekers.”

“Thank you,” says Sylvane. “Please take this necklace, the one with the red pearl in the middle.”

“How did you know I had a birthday coming up?” she says coyly.

“That red pearl is also a beacon,” he begins...

“A present and a favor request,” she replies. “You are getting the hang of this wizard thing.”

“Vado journeys alone,” he continues, “and this time she must remain alone, so that she might also decide the course of her life for all years to come. Not even Cary Jewel Kinder, nor friends from childhood, Zazook, Pinneypoppa, or Yaybob---in this one thing, there are none that may stand at her side, save in her heart. She will have one beloved friend, going forth to meet her as she travels, though he may be disguised at first. Eventually she should arrive at Kohklit Gamma Island.”

“Aw, you want to me to be there to bless her with a way home?” she says. “Okay. Your sister’s so crazy, Sylvane. Maybe the monkeys will carry her up into the trees.”

“If they have wings, they will probably be working for her,” he snarls sarcastically, shaking his head. D.C. laughs uproariously. They turn again to the Reaves tribe.


“Could I bid them farewell a moment?” Sylvane inquires of D.C., “before they go?”

“Should be okay,” she replies, stepping backwards into her beaded veil, closing slowly as an orange oval, contracting over a mist-filled area now containing the sorceress. “Don’t keep them out here in abstract-land too long, and tell’em take this beacon back through Misty Hazel’s Garden. The twins ought to know the way from there and take the same exit from there the Triplets take when the kids swap places.” Then she is out of line, safely back in her grove, where the hummingbirds grow hearty and evade the swift cats that prowl the yard.

Sylvane, heavy at heart, wants to tell them so much, but with a pass of his hands, instead clears a channel for their words, before he passes beyond the realm where words may serve. His old friend Clay speaks:

“Sylvane! So…what took ya so long?”

“You were really expecting me?”

“I wasn’t really expecting anything,” he replies more seriously.

Sylvane quickly repeats D.C.’s instructions, finishing with, “the portal’s relay, the one the Triplets used to swap places with your children in dangerous circumstances.---from there the portal should take you back within a week or so of when/ where I last traveled the woods with my sister.”

That sounds great,” Clay replies. “I could stay out camping by that lake forever!”

“Well, good luck man.”

“I’ll have you with me, trust me,” Sylvane replies, waving. “I’ll be stopping by for a Kopi Luwak some day soon.”

“I’ll look that up,” Clay replies, “and we’ll probably just have Dr. Pepper.”

“And don’t forget, children who eat more candy as kids are more likely to be arrested for violent crime as adults, so…buy comic books…”

“Yeah, way to mess with trick or treat, ya b—“ the taunt finishes in a stopper-like pulling shut of the area where the four formerly floated, swirling away down the other side of the contracting orange oval that receives their human, protected selves.


“I am glad,” he says to no one remaining, “hearth and home can be for someone.”

After a pause, he thinks: “this heaviness must leave my heart; I am called to many strands across many facets of reality---and I have languished before all of them, at too low a vibration to affect any of the struggles that compel my aid, for my all-too-human feelings fluctuate my resolve. Now I go to face the demon I’ve called forth, to lay aside that heaviness...and to face death, and the end of death...”


In the distance, the strength of his friends stands guard, as Sylvane reaches out into the final darkness.