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Week 673
You are on Week 674
Week 1

Every week we will be starting a new Story Telling competition - with great prizes! The current prize is 2000 NP, plus a rare item!!! This is how it works...

We start a story and you have to write the next few paragraphs. We will select the best submissions every day and put it on the site, and then you have to write the next one, all the way until the story finishes. Got it? Well, submit your paragraphs below!

Story Six Hundred Seventy Four Ends Friday, September 19

The house of a busy mage is never a neat one, and Iris's house was no exception.

Her once-immaculate wooden floor was charred in splotches, marking the potion spills that were mopped up a minute too late, but the burnt spots weren't very visible under the cloth, potion ingredients, and measuring instruments strewn across the floor.

Not that her home didn't have shelves. Each wall in her house was cluttered with shelves carelessly hammered in, which in turn were fully stocked with beakers, potion flasks, and boxes. Some were empty, some were glowing, and some were oozing their contents onto the shelves. The one desk she would have had space with was crammed with open books filled with markings and circles around certain paragraphs.

Iris paid all this no mind.

The Poogle seized a dropper and squeezed two drops of Essence of Mortog in her cauldron. "I'm telling you, Fireball, this will be my big break for sure!" She stirred the mixture with the bottom of her staff. "Others try to work miracles with machinery, but through my research and magical prowess I can do just about anything, even what everyone's afraid of."

Fireball said nothing, only running back to his master among the debris with a Sun Dried Techo Claw in his mouth. "Good boy," Iris crooned, tossing the Doglefox a marshmallow.

"They'll see..." she trailed off as she dropped in the claw with a quiet splash. Her voice lowered in pitch and volume, as if not to disturb the potion she was brewing. "I'll prove I can go back. I'll prove that I can fix everything..." Iris fought to keep her voice from breaking toward the end of her sentence as she struggled to keep her memories at bay.

Fireball stared up at the Poogle questioningly and continued munching on his marshmallow. She patted his fluffy orange head, smiling wanly. "In any case, I've studied too hard for too many years to quit now." Iris's faint smile disappeared.

"It's ready."

Taking an empty flask and tongs from a nearby shelf, the Poogle slipped the former into the latter. Holding the tongs with a practiced paw, she dipped the flask into her opalescent brew and lifted it, letting the excess ethereal mixture cascade off of the flask before holding it to her lips.

Iris hesitated for a moment. She'd worked through many nights and studied for many days to bring herself a chance of recovering the past. Had she done it wrong? The slightest error and she would be done for... or worse.

Iris shook her head. "Fireball, love, the time has come." Patting the Doglefox one more time, she lifted the tongs and poured the mixture down her throat.

It burned like the Magma Pool, stung like the Snowager's breath, and trickled like the sleeping Rainbow Fountain. Iris cried out in alarm and pain, dropping the flask onto the floor where it shattered into many pieces.

Fireball, who'd had his head buried in a bag of marshmallows, looked up in a daze. He swiveled his head and sniffed, attempting to find his master.

He couldn't, though, no matter he he tried, for she was in a different place, in a different time...

Author: flufflepuff
Date: Sep 15th
...Like Psellia's powerful whirlwinds, Iris spun and turned, attempting to stick her limbs out parallel to (what she thought was) the ground to regain her balance. A dizzy step forward led to a fall back, but Iris's disoriented stumble was cushioned by a thick, damp patch of grass. The crisp blades tickled her face and left soft stains across her robe.

Her eyes regained their vision, but her mind retained its temporal confusion. She was engulfed by a dense thicket as the limited light of the setting (or was it rising?) sun enabled her to barely see a few trees' distance ahead. Panic raced across her body like her cousins on the Poogle racetrack. Anxious tears welled from her bright blue eyes.

"Where am I? Where is this? Was this all for naught?"

Iris's panic heightened as a shaded figure swiftly moved among the trees. Although she was never afraid of the unknown -- by Thyora's Tear, her current predicament was the result of a voluntary attempt to tame the unknown -- the unfamiliarity of her surroundings unnerved her. She sat upright and defensively drew the wand that never failed to assist her. The figure paused and then slowly began to approach the Poogle mage. Its advancing strides stopped and the figure unexpectedly (though rationally) questioned, "Who goes there in my glade?"

Glade? Iris thought to herself. Could it be--

Her budding realization was interrupted by the figure who continued on. "I SAID, who goes there in my glade?!?"

Without time to concoct a persona, Iris responded, "I am Iris the mage."

The figure stepped further closer, entering a patch of light the thicket of trees graciously allowed through their tangled roof of leaves. The light illuminated the figure's copper and emerald hair, her tall physique, and a pair of ethereal wings.

"Illusen!" Iris said under her breath, the schemata of her surroundings beginning to make sense.

Illusen posed another question to the Poogle, who was now face-to-face. "Do you have permission from Skarl to be in here?"

The trained mage that she was, Iris had already began thinking ahead. She coolly answered, "Yes. I am here studying regional specimens for the Royal Meridellian Magocracy on King Skarl's decree."

Illusen contemplated the answer and then seemingly accepted the fabricated story as truth. Iris's quick wit and educated upbringing allowed her to excel in such situations. The one question she could not talk her way out of, however, which she needed to hear to confirm her spell's success, crept its way up through her vocal chords and lunged out. "Illusen, may I ask what year it is?"

The earth faerie, perplexed by the ridiculous question, immediately answered, "Why, it's Year Two. How could one of such status not--"

Iris's senses blocked out the follow-up question. It was Year Two. The year the Royal Meridellian Magocracy itself ruined her family. The year that a young Iris lost her mother to a failed potion testing ordered by the Magocracy -- a concoction they knew would be unsuccessful. Iris closed her eyes. The channels that anxious tears rolled from moments earlier could not be reopened for emotional ones. No, she mustn't let memories interfere right now. So far, her potion's spell has been an unprecedented success:

A shift in place,
A transport in time,
By Fyora's grace
I'll fix past designs.

Now, the opportunity had arisen to change the past and she mustn't fail...

Author: miraday
Date: Sep 15th
...She bid Illusen a farewell, which the earth faerie returned with a touch of bemusement, and began the journey to Meridell Castle, where the Magocracy met in a high tower. If she had succeeded and arrived before the tragedy, then she could sneak in and prevent the forgery that was at the root of it all.

An enemy, angling for a higher position in the Magocracy, had forged certain documents that made her mother appear to be a secret Darigan agent. The highest ranking magicians could be relied on to never do anything the straightforward way, and so, rather than confronting her about the evidence and giving her any form of trial, they had simply tricked her into drinking the fatal concoction.

All of this she had discovered through years of scrying and suspicion, but whomever had forged the documents had cast magics powerful enough to prevent their own identity from being uncovered. Hopefully, being in the time and place of the incident would help her to get past these wards...

Author: thatshamefulhabit
Date: Sep 16th
...It would be difficult, Iris knew, to take on an adversary of such advanced magical abilities, but she would attack that problem when it arose. The first (and most important) thing on her mind was to save her mother.

As expected, the tower was empty when she arrived. The Poogle walked in and started to search for the documents, a clue as to who forged them, anything. Her efforts were met with nothing more than books, a table, chairs, and an otherwise empty room. Giving up, however, was not an option. She continued to scour every inch of the room. That is, she looked until she heard the door creak open.

Iris looked around for a place to hide. She knew that whoever came in was the culprit and she couldn't be discovered. Not now... not when she was so close.

Iris soon discovered that there were not many places she could hide. The room had so much open space. Behind the door was the only hiding space she could find. It wasn't great, but it was better than nothing.

The door stopped right before it hit her in the face. She peeked around to see who had come in. She wanted to know. She needed to know... but afterward, Iris almost wished that she didn't...

Author: nostalgia_14
Date: Sep 16th


What happens next? (write the next paragraph of the story!)



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