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Fifoo

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    A Gasp For The Surface

    in Druid's Garden

    Posted

    Another great story, Keanumoreira, nice to see that you are a fan of Rapture. I've never played the game but saw some trailers about it: simply mind-blowing.

     

    In addition, a story emerged from the seabed, that's something that demands my attention. :woot:

    THE REALMS OF OPAL.

    in Druid's Garden

    Posted

    Keanumoreira, thank you, your comments go straight to the heart, and it is good to receive such ones. I will try to ensure not to disappoint you, for the respect I owe you, all of you, because the Druid's Garden is a beautiful and welcoming place which really deserves attention. Another two small verses to complete in translation and... the verdict will be. :sleep:

    THE REALMS OF OPAL.

    in Druid's Garden

    Posted

    Beautiful seems like such a pale word to describe it! Enrapturing, to say the least!

    I look forward to reading more and supporting you further, Fifoo

     

    Hello Herculine, welcome back!

    Welcome back, Little Fairy! :teehee:

     

    I warmly thank you both for your very nice messages of encouragement. And I am truly honored by your presence. The first chapter will be released soon, a few touches to give on the translation. I just revamped the prologue because it does not satisfy me fully. I've attached a piece of music in the spoiler to improve the atmosphere. You can then listen and enjoy it at your leisure, before, during, or after reading the story. :happy:

    The Little Fairy's Flower Garden

    in Druid's Garden

    Posted

    Here's a little poem of my own making, unfortunately, the rhymes do not work in translating from French into English, so I did not touch anything to keep the spirit of the poem. The French version is included in the spoiler. Enjoy reading.

     

    Why...

     

    Why to run in all directions...

    I see people fighting against the wind,

    All this to gain even more money.

    They have forgotten what it means to live,

    Blinded by so many ambitions and envy.

    Poet, tell them what you think about...

     

    Why do they always seek to destroy...

    Forgetting all what the sages had in memory

    And those beautiful things of man and history.

    They reject everything that gave them the childhood,

    Caring little about the extent of their spending.

    Builder, tell them about how to build...

     

    Why can not they grasp the meaning...

    They want the answers without asking any question

    Whether they are wrong or if they are right.

    I see them getting lost in all these corridors

    Who leads them to places so illusory.

    Wise man, tell them what you think about...

     

     

    Fifoo - "Why" 06/28/10.

     

     

    Pourquoi...

     

    Pourquoi courir dans tous les sens...

    Je vois des gens se battre contre le vent,

    Tout cela pour gagner encore plus d'argent.

    Ils ont oublié ce que signifie la vie,

    Aveuglés par tant d'ambitions et par l'envie.

    Poète, dit-leur donc ce que tu en penses...

     

    Pourquoi toujours cherchent-ils à détruire...

    Oubliant ce que les sages avaient en mémoire

    Et ces belles choses de l'homme et de l'histoire.

    Ils rejettent tout ce que leur a donné l'enfance,

    Se souciant peu de l'ampleur de leurs dépenses.

    Bâtisseur, dit-leur donc comment construire...

     

    Pourquoi ne peuvent-ils en saisir le sens...

    Ils veulent les réponses sans se poser de question,

    De savoir s'ils ont tord ou bien s'ils ont raison.

    Je les vois se perdre dans tous ces couloirs

    Qui les mènent vers des lieux bien illusoires.

    Ô Sage, dit-leur donc ce que tu en penses...

     

     

    Fifoo - "Pourquoi" 28/06/10.

     

    Today is good day to die

    in Debates

    Posted

    It's a theatrical contempt for death in a military impasse or catch-22 situation, if ever then made by disillusioned veterans and, of course, by illusionary "holy warriors", to be understood in the sense of "this days is as good as any other and probably no other will follow. The opposite, usually made by rookies in panic, is: "Today is a good day to run away in the terror of battle", background of high losses in the case of a common rout.

     

    http://www.abload.de/img/anne9hol.gif

    I think we can go further in defining the words "Today is a good day to die". For this, we can learn from epics in which we find the myth of the hero.

     

    A hero (or, for women, a heroine) is a real or fictional history of human mythology or art, whose high-facts worth sung his gesture. Depending on the culture, the hero is a demigod, a legendary figure, an ideal, a superman or simply a courageous person, giving freely of themselves.

     

    The role of the hero is between metaphysical aspiration, almost religious, to exceed the human condition, including a physical point of view and from the more realistic aspiration to work for the good of the community, for a morally point.

     

    The epic hero.

     

    The epic hero in the epics is one knight gifted with superhuman strength, able to endure all kinds of physical or mental suffering. Copy of his fidelity to his lord, he was elected for his perfection and still represents a community whose existence is at stake, community struggling and suffering, to defeat the purpose. God's strength is almost always added to his assistance.

     

    Death is the most moving moment of the story and contains a lesson driven by the vision of religious and feudal society: the suffering and death are noble when they are incurred for God and the sovereign. Thus the public, both chivalrous and popular, is called the major mass emotions and religious.

    THE REALMS OF OPAL.

    in Druid's Garden

    Posted

    Thank you, Maharg67, your words warm my heart, especially coming from someone used to write, do not hesitate to give your opinion as and as the story unfolds, it is still in a state of whole project, but I hope to go as best I can, and uh ... this is the first time I try to write a story as vast ... perhaps a dozen chapters ahead in the bag. :sweat:

    THE REALMS OF OPAL.

    in Druid's Garden

    Posted · Edited by Fifoo

    At a Little Fairy, who knows all the magic she will ever need.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    THE REALMS OF OPAL.

     

     

     

    Anaël of Istandiir, Knight of Achenlor.

     

     

     

     

    --- Prologue ---

     

     

     

    "Anaël... Anaël..." The voice seemed to come from afar, as if trying painfully to clear a path out of the thick fog that enveloped her. It was a barely audible voice, female, unreal, and its echo rang in my ears like a song out of nowhere, like an insistent melody, almost annoying. "ANAËL!" I managed to barely open my eyes ... My eyelids were heavy and refused to obey my will, as if I had emerged from a too-long sleep. My mind still numb had trouble recover from this state of semi-consciousness, as in a dream, a sweet lethargy that we wouldn't want to leave for anything in the world. I felt that my whole being floated in a mist, impalpable, surrounding me with its ethereal cloak. "ANAËL!" If only that voice could be silent and leave me in peace... finally.

     

    That voice... That voice as sweet and pure as a pearl of dew, as a crystalline melody... For all the Saints Opal! My mind, in a burst of survival, now acknowledged it: "EYLEEN! Eyleen, My Sweet!" The awakening was brutal...

     

    The blizzard raged around me, screaming, whistling, like an angry beast, it hit me the face of its onslaught. My whole body ached, and refused to yield to my desire to move, not even a little finger. And I was there, lying in the snow, powerless, face bruised, my body pressed against the ground, on the flank of the inhospitable mountain. Thin streams of blood flowed from my nose, my ears, and drew furrows of red on the snowpack. The arms outstretched, like a disjointed puppet, I was unable to get up, the cold and snow burned my hands and face. I was exhausted, wearied by so many efforts to finally get there... What a glorious end, Knight of Achenlor! After so many struggles and victories, and after reading through so many kingdoms and strange lands... Now hunger and thirst gnawing my guts and darkened my mind. Damn! I'm so close... I should not give up, not now!

     

    The icy wind, unruffled, continued his work of undermining, blowing in gusts strongly. He rushed into the lower parts of my body bruised, her painful bites inflicted upon me deep in my flesh. Spinning, swaying, insinuating itself through the smallest channels offered by my clothes torn, worn out and laminated by mistreatment by time and weather. He ruthlessly curled around my body, tightening the stranglehold of its deadly embrace, like a snake hungry and thirsty for blood. Insidiously seeking to extinguish the little heat that remained in me, that little spark of life, as if to stifle its prey, waiting to complete its work. I felt his icy bites, insistent, like fire needles planted here and there, in every inch of my flesh in agony. And soon I was going to die by so many tortures, if I could not find the strength to fight again and again!

     

    Eyleen, sweet Eyleen, my little fairy... I am so far from you, and so close now, because I hear your voice. May she guide me to you, my Love... Gathering the last strength I had left, I managed to crawl painfully to the summit of this mountain, the price of a superhuman effort, knowing that my goal was on the other side of the slope there, in plain verdant Garden of the Druids. I lifted the head, tears of pain streaming from my eyes and my vision blurred, and I could not help shouting her name all of my remaining strength: "EYLEEN!" The trembling arm, turned towards my destiny, I remembered every episodes of my life, such as image scrolling at top speed to someone about to cross the threshold, in the limbo of the afterlife, to the Promised Land...

     

     

     

     

    .../...

     

    A une Petite Fée, qui connaît toute la magie dont elle aura jamais besoin.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    LES ROYAUMES D'OPALE.

     

     

     

    Anaël d'Istandiir, Chevalier d'Achenlor.

     

     

     

     

     

    --- Prologue ---

     

     

     

    "Anaël... Anaël..." La voix semblait venir de très loin, comme si elle cherchait péniblement à se frayer un chemin pour sortir de l'épais brouillard qui l'enveloppait. C'était une voix à peine audible, féminine, irréelle, et son écho sonnait à mes oreilles tel un chant venant de nulle part, comme une mélopée insistante, presque agaçante. "ANAËL!" J'arrivais à peine à entrouvrir les yeux... Mes paupières étaient lourdes et refusaient d'obéir à ma volonté, comme si j'émergeais d'un trop long sommeil. Mon esprit encore engourdi avait du mal à se remettre de cet état de semi-inconscience, comme dans un rêve, une douce léthargie que l'on ne voudrait quitter pour rien au monde. J'avais l'impression que tout mon être flottai dans une brume légère, impalpable, m'enveloppant de son manteau éthéré. "ANAËL!" Si seulement cette voix pouvait se taire, et me laisser enfin en paix...

     

    Cette voix... Cette voix aussi douce et pure qu'une perle de rosée, comme une mélodie cristalline... Par tous les Saints d'Opale! Mon esprit, dans un sursaut de survie, la reconnaissait maintenant: "EYLEEN! Ma Douce Eyleen!" Le réveil fut brutal...

     

    La tempête de neige faisait rage autour de moi, hurlante, sifflante, telle une bête en furie, elle me frappait le visage de ses coups de boutoirs. Tout mon corps me faisait mal, et refusait de céder à ma volonté de bouger, ne serait-ce qu'un petit doigt. Et j'étais là, allongé dans la neige, impuissant, le visage meurtri, mon corps collé contre le sol, à même le flanc de cette montagne inhospitalière. De minces filets de sang coulaient de mon nez, de mes oreilles, et dessinaient des sillons rouges sur le manteau neigeux. Les bras écartés, tel un pantin désarticulé, j'étais incapable de me relever, le froid et la neige me brûlaient les mains et le visage. J'étais à bout de forces, fatigué par tant d'efforts déployés, pour finalement en arriver là... Quelle glorieuse fin, chevalier d'Achenlor! Après tant de combats et de victoires, après avoir parcouru et traversé tant de royaumes et de contrées insolites... Maintenant la faim et la soif rongeaient mes entrailles, et obscurcissaient mon esprit. Bon sang! Je suis si près du but... Je ne doit pas abandonner, pas maintenant!

     

    Le vent glacé, imperturbable, continuait son travail de sape, soufflant énergiquement en rafales. Il s'engouffrait dans les moindres parties de mon corps meurtri, m'infligeant ses douloureuses morsures au plus profond de ma chair. Tournoyant, ondulant, s'insinuant par les moindres voies qu'offraient mes vêtements déchirés, usés et laminés par les mauvais traitements infligés par le temps et les intempéries. Il se lovait impitoyablement autour de mon corps, resserrant l'étau de son étreinte mortelle, tel un serpent avide et assoiffé de sang. Cherchant insidieusement à éteindre le peu de chaleur qui restait encore en moi, cette petite étincelle de vie, comme pour mieux étouffer sa proie, attendant de pouvoir achever son oeuvre. Je sentais ses morsures glacées, insistantes, telles des aiguilles de feu plantées çà et là, dans la moindre parcelle de ma chair à l'agonie. Et bientôt j'allais succomber devant tant de supplices, si je ne trouvais pas la force de le combattre, encore, et encore!

     

    Eyleen, ma douce Eyleen, ma petite fée... Je suis si loin de toi, et tellement proche maintenant, car j'entends ta voix. Puisse-t-elle me guider jusqu'à toi, mon Amour... Rassemblant les dernières forces qui me restaient, je parvins à ramper péniblement jusqu'au sommet de cette montagne, au prix d'un effort surhumain, sachant que mon but se trouvait de l'autre côté du versant, là-bas, dans la plaine verdoyante du Jardin des Druides. Je levais la tête, des larmes de souffrances coulaient de mes yeux et brouillaient ma vision, et je ne pus m'empêcher de crier son nom de toutes mes dernières forces: "EYLEEN!" Le bras tremblant, tendu vers ma destinée, je me rappelais chaque épisode de ma vie, telles des images qui défilent à toute allure devant quelqu'un qui s'apprête à franchir le seuil, dans les limbes de l'au-delà, vers la Terre Promise...

     

     

     

    .../...

    http://www.davidorr.net/devcenter/acoustic/atmospheric/Betrayed.mp3 David Orr - Betrayed

     

     

    THE REALMS OF OPAL.

    in Druid's Garden

    Posted · Edited by Fifoo

    I would like to thank everyone who helped me in this project and without whom this story would not have happened, my little brother who was my first drive, his partner who made the effort to help in the translation of this text, my friends who supported me through, they are part of my family, around me, or the community of Nexus. A warm thank you to all enthusiasts who share their stories in the Druid's Garden...

     

    A special thought for two wonderful people who inspired me to try my hand at writing, dezdimona and Herculine, and as well as some Little Fairy without whom this story would never have emerged... I miss you terribly.

     

    Much love... Fifoo.

     

    Ps. I've attached a piece of music in the spoiler to improve the atmosphere of each chapters. You can then listen and enjoy it at your leisure, before, during, or after reading the story. :happy:

    Minority or Majority...

    in Debates

    Posted

    First I wanted to thank you all for your comments on the subject... Myrmaad, to raise the ambiguous issue of interpretation of the term "weak". Grannywils, for your candor. Slygothmog, for being the last Knight of modern times. Trandoshan, your words are always helpful in any debates. Coous, to remain neutral on the subject, the day will come when choices are to do in life, so I hope you make the right when it presents itself to you. SilverDNA, for quoting the Milgram experiment. Balagor, to keep his "old hippie" state of mind, and especially more than anything else, do not change, stay as you are! Aurielius, for quoting Martin Luther King, the choice of this quote is perfect to illustrate the debate. And finally, Burnagirl, for bringing his disturbing evidence about what may be the conditions in which we see the good and bad, truth or lie... Indeed, everything is a question of our own ability to perceive and understand the world around us, about the complexity of reality and how we live or have the desire to live.

     

    Another interesting example is what might be called altruism animal.

     

    In "The Game of Death", a documentary by Christophe Nick, 80% of the participants issued electroshock. Similar experiments were conducted with such animals. The conclusions are different. This is the case of rhesus monkeys. In an experiment conducted in 1964, 80% of the monkeys stopped operating the chain of food delivered to them when they saw it was inflicting an electric shock to one of them. They preferred to go hungry for several days. Same with rats, they have stopped eating rather than to hurt another.

     

    In his book, "The Age of Empathy", Frans de Wall, an expert on primates, shows that animals suffer to see one of their suffering... He tells how the heart of a female goose is accelerating when the male is attacked by another goose. Some animals have the same concern for the well-being of another species in a zoo, a Bengal tigress fed piglets, a bonobo monkey, a bird has flown concussed top of a tree to steal it again.

     

    Compassion, which both candidates failed to Game of Death, has its roots in evolution long ago, a period prior to the onset of the human species. Furthermore it is regrettable that, by diverting most unfortunate, the emission of France 2 has quickly exonerated "electrocutors" their responsibility to focus the shot on television. Gladiators of the Coliseum, the slaughter of Verdun, the torturers of Abu Ghraib to those Srebrenica, people must look the truth in the face: inhumanity is as old as man.

     

    To each of us to act conscientiously. :wink:

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