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Archive for June 2014

[PL] Dzień z życia studenta oxenfurckiego

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Obudził go potężny ból głowy, którego nijak nie dało się zignorować. Po chwili rozważań doszedł do wniosku, że głowy jednak nie da sie odkręcić, więc powrót w słodki sen nie wchodzi w grę. Uniósł się trochę, przypłacając to bohaterstwo zawrotami głowy i nagłym zamgleniem wzroku. Kiedy już zaczął widzieć wyraźnie, jednym z pierwszych widoków jakie ujrzał było nagie, krągłe ramię, wystające spod przykrycia, którym i on był otulony przed chwilą. Ramię przywodzące na myśl jakieś słodkie chwile (wiadomo, nieładnej czy drętwej by sobie nie brał), poprzedni wieczór, mocno zakrapiany winem (pewnie, na trzeźwo dawno nie szedł spać).
Moment, moment… Jak ona może mieć na imię… Nie, Darya nie, ona poleciała na tego, no… A, mieszkał przy porcie. Straszny smród. Nie, nie ona. Annika. Nie, Annika wróciła do domu w zeszłym miesiącu, jak ją znaleźli w bibliotece, palącą tytoń. Ohydny zwyczaj.
Ziewnął.
Marijka. Pewnie Marijka. Ale Marijka sie do mnie nie odzywa, z powodu Anniki… Ech…
Podrapał się po karku, patrząc na chmurę czarnych włosów, która kryła poduszkę.
Ha! Julietta! Na pewno Julietta! Julietta ma takie sliczne czarne loki… Ale nie, ta tu nie ma loków. Echhhh… Annabel? Josika? Alia? Nora…? Nie, Nora nie, Nora w życiu nie poszłaby do łóżka z pijanym… Erm… Kto może to być…?
Usiadł na posłaniu, wpatrując się w okno. Nagle jego wzrok zahaczył o lutnie stojące pod oknem. Uf. Dwie lutnie. Czyli przynajmniej ktoś z naszego wydziału… Ale jeżeli nie mogę sobie jej przypomnieć, to pewnie jakaś pierwszoroczna, i teraz będzie się za mną pętać całymi dniami… Nie, na wszystkie muzy, to straszne. Nigdy, pamiętaj, Lik, nigdy nie zadawaj się z panienkami z pierwszego roku… One są takie sentymentalne i romantyczne!
Przełknął i ostrożnie szturchnął nagie ramię.
– Lik, ty głupku! Miałeś mnie obudzić ze świtem! – burknął Josan, pocierając zarośniętą szczękę. – Ale nie wierzyłem w to, bo tak żeśmy wczoraj popili, że usnąłeś jak się tu tylko wywlekliśmy i chrapałeś jak krowa. No i czego się tak na mnie gapisz…?

Written by Srebrna

2014/06/23 at 03:43

Posted in MUD/RPG

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[PL] Rozerwanie

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Czyli coś o leśnej elfce, która kocha morze.
Wiatr w koronach drzew zawodzi jak duchy potepionych, skazanych na wieczna tulaczke. Zimno przenika moja skore, lecz nie zimno wiatru, tylko leku. Leku, ktory zrodzil sie w dniu, gdy po raz pierwszy o wlos uniknelam smierci.

Nigdy juz nie pozbede sie go, niegdy nie przestane ogladac sie przez ramie, podskakiwac na kazdy odglos. Nie bede spokojna, nie moge utracic czujnosci, musze wypatrywac zagrozenia. Jedynym ukojeniem dla serca i skolatanej duszy jest muzyka. Muzyka i natchnienie, ktore rodzi poezje. Lecz poezja nie jest ukojeniem, poezja tylko rozszarpuje glebiej rany w moim sercu. Rany, ktore zadalo mi zycie, ktore zadalam sobie sama.

Muzyka niesie spokoj, lecz to spokoj zludny, bo jak mozna byc spokojnym gdy za kazdym kamieniem moze czaic sie smierc? Gdy zza drzewa moze wychynac twarz pozornie przyjazna, twarz brata, ktora okaze sie byc twarza zaglady i zdrady? Gdy kazdy, niby niewinny szelest moze niesc ze soba wiesc o smierci? Muzyka daje ukojenie na chwile, gdy gram, gdy zapominam, kim jestem, gdzie jestem i czemu powinnam sie bac. Kiedy milknie, znow strach przychodzi po mnie, zabiera spokoj i lagodnosc, zostawia napiecie, lek i rozpacz.

Wiatr wyje, jakby plakal, jakby zalowal mojego spokoju, niewinnosci duszy i utraconej lagodnosci. Ale ja mu nie wierze, wiatr tez mnie zdradzil, jak wszystko inne, jak ziemia… Z kazdej strony moze czekac pulapka – wiatr zaglusza kroki zabojcow, ziemia wycisza uderzenia kopyt. Tylko drzewa mnie jeszcze nie zdradzily. Drzewa, stojace wiekami, bedace zarazem przemijaniem i trwaniem, wiecznoscia i chwila… Lisc zerwany z drzewa znika ze swiata w kilka tchnien, drzewo rosnie wiekami, stajac sie pewna podpora. Tylko na nich mozna polegac, tylko im moge zaufac, tylko drzewa nigdy nie zmieniaja twarzy.

Drzewa… Najwyzsze, najwspanialsze, najstarsze… Drzewa, ktorych nie obali dlon ludzka czy jakakolwiek inna, miedzy ktorymi skryc sie moge kiedy bol i lek wladaja moja dusza, drzewa! Pokryte kora, ktorej zaglebienia to historia minionych lat, same staja sie historia, terazniejszoscia i przyszloscia. One staly wczesniej niz pierwszy z nas ujrzal gwiazdy i upadna jako ostatnie, gdy juz nikt zywy nie bedzie mogl patrzec na to… Gdy juz wszyscy zapomna kim byli, skad przyszli, dokad podazali. Gdy juz zycie nijakie na swiecie istniec nie bedzie, poza nimi, drzewami, istotami wiecznosci.

Wiatr szarpie ich koronami, jakby chcial je ukarac za to, ze kryja mnie w swych ramionach. Moze zazdrosci im tej pewnosci, stania, trwalosci? Nie obchodzi mnie ten zdrajca… Chce sie przytulic do kory drzew w Najstarszej Puszczy, bo one sa najwierniejsze. Inne sa mlode, inne nie pamietaja, a te! Te zawsze pamietac beda czasy gdy to one wladaly znanym swiatem! To one widzialy pierwsze kroki i slyszaly pierwsze slowa. One patrzyly jak modlilismy sie do slonca, ksiezyca i gwiazd, jak odkrywalismy siebie nawzajem… Widzialy jak bratalismy sie z innymi, jak klocilismy sie i zdradzalismy, jak powracalismy… Upadaly krolestwa, nastawaly nowe, a one wciaz patrzyly z niezmierzona cierpliwoscia nieskonczonosci.

Drzewa nie zdradzaja. One sa na to zbyt madre. Czekaja, az powrocimy do nich, az znow uwierzymy w slonce, ksiezyc i gwiazdy, w cisze i spokoj ich konarow. W lagodnosc duszy.

Drzewa niosa mi ukojenie. Najstarsza Puszcza jest najwspanialsza kolebka dla mojego zmeczonego serca. Tylko tu moge nie myslec, nie ogladac sie za siebie. Tylko tu, wsrod najmadrzejszych istot swiata.

Kule sie w zalomie konaru wielkiego debu i patrze ponad koronami innych drzew. I nawet tu, w sercu Brokilonu, jestem rozdarta na pol. Nie wiem, gdzie pojsc, czy zostac i zaszyc sie w lasach czy wyjsc na zewnatrz i znow sie bac… Czy podazyc tam, gdzie drugi raz w zyciu uslyszalam ten sam szum, ta sama piesn wiecznosci i spokoju? Patrze na korony drzew i widze je, ale ich nie widze, a przez nie widze fale morskie, zielenia bogate jak korony drzew pode mna. Serce mi bije, bo niemal juz na horyzoncie pojawiaja sie biale zagle, na widok ktorych niegdys usmiechnelam sie ze spokojem od tak dawna nieznanym. Biale zagle lekkich, morskich statkow, niesionych wiatrem i fala. Wiatrem, ktory zdradza, fala, ktora jak liscie i drzewa, wiecznoscia jest i przemijaniem.

Fala ulotna jak piorko, jak listek, jak pyl, morze odwieczne, istniejace, niepokonane.

Dusza moja placze, gdyz wybor jest srogi, a jezeli jedno z nich pokocham bardziej, drugie nigdy juz nie przyjmie mnie do siebie. Nie zaznam spokoju w lesie, jezeli zamieszkam na morzu, nie zaznam spokoju wsrod fal, gdy zostane tutaj… Cierpienie wycina blizny na mojej duszy. Nie moge, nie moge wybrac… Zal dusi mnie, nie moge, nie moge… Nie moge zostawic drzew, nie moge porzucic morza… Coz mi po morzu, jezeli drzewa nie beda chcialy juz ze mna rozmawiac, coz mi po drzewach, jezeli fale nie zechca mnie kolysac?

Co czynic, gdy dusze rozerwana mam na dwoje, gdy serce w dwie strony ciagnie, samo nie wiedzac czego chce od swiata? Co wybrac, gdy od wyboru zycie zalezy…?

Muzyka przynosi ukojenie…

Written by Srebrna

2014/06/18 at 00:00

Posted in MUD/RPG

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[PL] Osnowa rzeczywistości

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Kiedyś Arkadia została wyłączona i bardzo długo czekaliśmy na jej powrót.

Delikatna, pastelowa mgla unosila sie dookola. Ile to juz dni? Trudno zliczyc… wszystko takie samo, lagodne, usypiajace, uspokajajace… Mysli zwalniaja, a wola zanika… Swiat staje sie obojetny… Zreszta, jaki swiat? Ta mgla wokol? Ja… Jaka mgla…?
Cisza, zaklocana zaledwie cichym szmerem jakby ocierajacych sie o siebie warstw delikatnej tkaniny… Cisza, przejmujaca cialo do kosci, uspokajajaca krew, spowalniajaca mysli, odbierajaca zainteresowanie… Cisza, zabijajaca wspomnienia i chec do zastanawiania sie…
Przestrzen, ktorej umysl ani wzrok nie sa w stanie objac… Zreszta, po co obejmowac… niech sobie bedzie. Wielkosci niewyobrazalne dla smiertelnego umyslu. Ale czymze jest roznica miedzy blisko i daleko? Czym rozni sie smiertelnik od niesmiertelnego? Czym zycie od smierci…?
Tu? Bo gdziez jest tu? Nigdzie… to miejsce na raz nie istnieje i istnieje, wszak jest tu, lecz nie ma jej nigdzie… Istniec tu byloby niemozliwe, powietrza brak i brak zycia, lecz jest tu, ale tu nie ma nigdzie… Nie, nie myslec, nie zastanawiac sie, nie rozumiec, nie poszukiwac… Istniec i nie pytac jak i czemu…
Unoszenie… A moze opadanie? Lecz co to za roznica, gdy cialo nie jest cialem? Gdy dlonie nie sa dlonmi, nie majac czego chwytac? Gdy nogi nie sa nogami, bo nie maja na czym stanac? Gdy glowa nie jest glowa, bo mysli plynac nie chca…? Coz tedy za roznica dla mnie, gdzie jestem, co sie dzieje…?
Kim jestem?
Mgla wciaz ta sama… ilez czasu uplynelo? Nie zliczysz… ni dnia, ni nocy roznicy nie widac, snie z otwartymi oczami, ktore nie istnieja, sniac sny, ktore niczym od jawy sie nie roznia, bo wspomnien w nich nijakich nie ma, jeno ta mgla i mgla ciagle…
Mgla wciaz pastelowa… delikatna, ale nie jasna, nie ciemna, nie jaskrawa… Nijaka. Ani szara, ani niebieska… Miejscami gestsza, miejscami rzadsza…
Delikatna, cienka nic przeplynela leniwie przed jej oczami, niemal nie zwracajac na siebie uwagi… Nastepna byla zielonkawa i miala smak jablka.
Smak? Tu? Znaczy… gdzie?
Kolejna przydryfowala z drugiej strony, zrobila supelek i zawrocila, zostawiajac powiew morskiego wiatru.
Hmm…
Mgla pojasniala… A przynajmniej tylko tak sie to dalo okreslic… Gdzies z daleka dobiegl ja cichy dzwiek, jakby bicie dzwonow.
Kap… Woda? Skad tu woda? Nie… Nie woda. Krew. Moja krew? Moja… co? Czyja? Gdzie…?
Kolejna nic byla juz grubsza… czerwona.
To pewnie ta krew.
Jaka krew? Co sie…?
Zaaaaaraza…
Kilka nitek zderzylo sie niedaleko i kazda odplynela w innym, a jednoczesnie tym samym kierunku.
Mysli zaczely pracowac nieco szybciej, lecz ciche dzwieki od razu je uspokoily…
Czeeeeeeeeeeekaaaaaaaaaaj…. Czeeeeeeeeeeeekaaaaaaaj… Spiiiiiiiiiijj… Jeeeeeeeszczeeeeeeeee nieeeeeeeeee czaaaaaaaaas…
Kolejne nitki byly nieco szybsze. Jedna z nich zarzala…
Kilka zielonych sklebilo sie i zlepilo w jedna…
LISC??? TU???
Gwaltowny ruch przesunal wiecej nici do liscia, ktory sklejony z nimi powoli tworzyl galaz…
Osnowa rzeczywistosci.
Slowa zabrzmialy w jej uszach donosnym hukiem, a bebenki zabolaly.
E… Co? Przepraszam, ZE CO?
Aj… Moje ucho.
Szept dobiegl ja z oddali.
Kto tu jest?
Cisza.
Zielone nitki splotly kolejny lisc. Wygladal calkiem niezle, zwlaszcza ze galaz do ktorej byl przyczepiony, bardzo dobrze przypominala drewno.
GALAZ???
Z nicosci wylanialy sie powoli kawalki roslin, kamieni…
Cale drzewo przedryfowalo obok niej, gdy w zdumieniu wpatrywala sie w pojedyncze ptasie skrzydlo, z ktorego nastepne nici utkaly ptaka. Ten odlecial, zostawiajac za soba nici szumu skrzydel i szarosci piorek.
Nagle kilka nici oplotlo jej nieistniejace dlonie i zaczelo wiazac sie w malenkie, gladkie supelki…
Mgla gestniala, wypluwajac z siebie bezglosnie pojedyncze cienie i ksztalty… Nagle do umyslu, ktory zarazem nie istnial, myslal i wlasnie sie tworzyl, dotarla cichutka, jakby niepewna mysl.
Wracamy?
CO, “WRACAMY”?
Aj… Ciszej…
Znowu jakies nici… niebieskie…
Ostrozna, jasna nitka swiatla zwinela sie w kolko i zawisla pytajaco nad jej glowa. Dtuga owinela sie wokol niej, potem nastepna, tworzac niewielki rogalik, peczniejacy z chwili na chwile. Swiatlo bijace od niego rozjasnilo pozostale nitki, a ksztalty i cienie nabraly wyraznych, dobrze rozroznialnych kolorow.
Znanych kolorow.
Kolorow lasu i nieba.
Potrzasnela glowa, a stworzone z nicosci wlosy zafalowaly po raz pierwszy od niepamieci.
Strzepy mysli poplynely szybciej i zawirowaly w radosnym tancu rozpoznania… Wiazac sie nicmi przezroczystymi i leciutkimi tworzyly spojna calosc a potem zaplataly sie w ciagi logiczne.
Drzewa trafialy na swoje miejsca w realnosci a liscie zaczynaly szumiec muskane nicmi wiatru, biegnacymi by polaczyc sie w podmuch. Ptaki zaczely spiewac, poczatkowo bezglosnie, a potem ciagnac za soba nitki cichych dzwiekow.
Wszystko nabieralo spoistosci, a jej wlasne dlonie coraz to przyciagaly do siebie nowe nici, stajac sie bardziej i bardziej rzeczywistymi z kazda chwila i kazda nicia…
Nagle jej stopy… stopy? Uderzyly o powierzchnie, a nagie kolana otarly sie o cos szorstkiego. Na razie nie mialo to jeszcze koloru, lecz pod palcami wyczuwala deski. Wokol szumialo. Cos, co na razie mialo tylko dzwiek, a nie kolor czy ksztalt. Drzewa ucielesnialy sie, a fragmenty rzeczywistosci zahaczaly sie na swoich miejscach i wplywaly powoli pomiedzy inne, uzupelniajac obraz. Do szumu doszedl zielony kolor i wilgoc, a do powiewu zapach morza i drewna. Ciche spiewy ptakow nieco sie rozproszyly, ale za to staly sie wyrazniejsze.
Przetarla twarz i odgarnela wlosy z oczu. wszystko powoli stabilizowalo sie…
Obok ktos jeknal.
Obrocila sie, pociagajac za soba czesc rzeczywistosci, wyszarpujac z wiatru kilka nitek powietrza, ktore splataly jej wlosy w loczki.
Elfka stojaca tam wlasnie sie odtwarzala. Spojrzala na nia polowa oka, przykryta kilkoma zawiazujacymi sie wlosami.
– Co… co to bylo? – dobiegl ja cien glosu.
Usmiechnela sie i wskazala na niebo, ktore zasnuwaly pierwsze nici chmurek.
– Chyba… chyba wrocilismy…
Nad Wyspami wschodzil pierwszy swit nowego swiata. Pierwszy swit na nowo utkanej rzeczywistosci, ktorej cienkie nitki Niesmiertelni spletli swa moca i palcami i wrocili Smiertelnym aby ci mogli zyc i istniec. Pierwszy swiat od czasu gdy Wielki Blad zachwial rownowaga Swiata i wysnul najwazniejsza nic z kobierca nici Rzeczywistosci.
Pierwszy oddech nowym powietrzem byl jak uderzenie.
A potem wszyscy znow zaczeli zyc naprawde.

Written by Srebrna

2014/06/13 at 00:00

Posted in MUD/RPG

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But if you can still dream – 21

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Chapter 11: But only in their dreams…

But only in their dreams can men be truly free. ‘Twas always thus, and always thus will be.
Tom Schulman, in Dead Poets Society, expressed by the character John Keating

Rose: Coma

The sitting room was eerily quiet, only sounds the murmur of cars filtering through the window somewhere in the house and a humming of some household appliance. Rose’s things were still lying around, her tea mug just as she left it on the side table, her purple jacket across a chair. Jackie sat on the sofa, looking through the thick folder of medical documentation without actually reading anything.
“I wish I was a bit smarter” she finally said, breaking the silence.
Theresa’s vacuuming in the next room stopped for a moment and her face appeared in the door.
“You wanted anything, maam?”
Jackie’s smile felt as if it was cracking her skin.
“No, just talking to myself. Sorry, Theresa. Just finish the vacuuming and you can take the rest day off. I’ll order dinner in.”
The housekeeper shook her head and sighed. The house was much too empty without Miss Rose.

Pete read the short report Martha Jones had delivered with a bit more understanding than his wife. Still not much could actually be decided based on “drug coma, no sign of brain damage, significant strain on heart muscle, ventilator required” and the list of drugs required to keep Rose under as her body kept fighting the simple medicines used on normal humans.
“Do you expect any chance of improvement, doctor Jones?”
The young medic sighed, pushing the stray hair back behind her ear.
“I have no idea. With a standard human I’d say douse her with a bunch of appropriate medicines and wake up slowly. Rose however keeps waking up quickly whenever we put even a little less of the sleeping drugs in the drip. Her heart will finally give in at some point, as every time we tried to wake her up it speeds up again to 160 bpm. I’m afraid to keep her under for much longer, but I don’t see any other option. The heart medicines we’ve tried to apply to slow down her heartbeat don’t seem to have any actual effect.”
Pete worried his thumb with his teeth.
“What about some of the alien tech we’ve collected? Any… I don’t know. Criogenics? I’m almost sure we’ve had a stasis pod somewhere around.”
“Now cleared the animal testing stage, I’m afraid. We haven’t managed to wake up anything alive yet.”
“Ouch” he pursed his lips. “So we are out of options.”

They sat on the sofa in front of a black TV screen, her head on his shoulder.
“I visited Rose today” she whispered. “I read to her, they say it’s good to talk to coma patients.”
He felt a half-smirk pulling at his lips.
“What did you read?”
She huffed quietly.
“A few gossip pages, but then I thought she may be getting worse from these, so I went home and brought some of her physics books. I’m not sure I had all the pronunciation right, but at least…” she sniffed. “And then I bought a CD with someone reading Sherlock Holmes stories. Very nice voice, you know, like from the TV. I left the player there for her, the nurse promised she’ll turn it on during the night.”

A cultured, quiet voice was reciting something vaguely familiar as she struggled for air.
Everything was soft and nice, apart from whatever was covering her mouth. She didn’t have enough strength to raise her hand, so she let it be, small tears trickling down her cheek, into her hair.
This was no dream, she was quite sure. This had to be reality, plain and simple.
She was very, very sick.
On this particular evening, Lestrade had spoken of the weather and
the newspapers. Then he had fallen silent, puffing thoughtfully at his
cigar. Holmes looked keenly at him.
“Anything remarkable on hand?” he asked.
“I don’t think so, Doctor” Jack sighed, and a sound of papers being shuffled reached her ears.
She was quite sure the story didn’t have Jack or the Doctor in it. Quite.
“I’m having a vague feeling that we are missing something” Doctor’s fingers raked his hair. “Did she say anything? Anything at all? Your name, at least?”
Jack groaned.
“For once in my life I wish I was dressed. Maybe she wouldn’t have screamed so.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“How do you think she’s doing it? We can safely say it’s only happening when you’re asleep – any ideas why?”
Her heart was beating so slowly, but still she could hear the pulsing blood in her ears as she struggled to get through to them, to tell them she was right here, she heard…
TARDIS made a distressed sound and both men looked up at the console.
“She’s showing something” Doctor’s voice quivered with excitement. “It’s a…” he looked around “a ghost of a vital signal? Does this make any sense?”
Jack jumped to his side and wrangled some display from benath the main console, trailing a bunch of colorful cables behind it.
“Seems it is a radiation of some sort… Whaddyacallit, void stuff?”
Doctor rolled his eyes and turned a few knobs.
Her heart picked up the pace as she watched her two favourite boys work in such an accord.
“Rose!” Jack finally exclaimed. “That’s the same radiation that was on that blanket! Something is coming through!”
“TARDIS is actually… Enhancing it? Why can’t you just…”
:You’re awake:
She felt herself falling back, back into the soft covers, the shock of being back in her own body forcing her to open her eyes. She was still hearing Jack and the Doctor panicking at the console, but around her activity exploded as multitude of medical staff ran to and fro, trying to replace the suddenly vanished drip-bag.

“We had to give her something experimental.”
Martha Jones looked like the most tired doctor in the entire England.
“Nothing standard works for long. Her body is actively fighting the drugs and neutralizing them. Actually, now most of them are getting directly expelled – she’s sweating them out. At least her heart did not reach the same BPM count as the last time she woke up, but it’s still alarming.”
Pete looked down at the piece of paper with some words scribbled on it in a hurry.
“And this is what she managed to say?”
Martha Jones grimaced unhappily.
“I’m afraid it’s not much. I’d wish for something sensible, but…”
“No, no. This is perfectly sensible” Pete Tyler shook his head. “You just have to know how to read it.”

“She thinks she’s actually crossing over to the TARDIS.”
Jackie grimaced and picked up the scrap of prescription used to write down Rose’s first words after coming out of the coma.
Doctor and captain looking for way. Have to sleep a lot a lot. Void stuff detect. TARDIS will pull me.
She looked at her husband, propped against the door frame, his hands in his pockets.
“She wants to go back” she whispered hopelessly. “My baby girl wants to go back and I have no idea how to help her.”
“Who is ‘captain’?”
“Oh, him. He’s supposed to be dead, Rose told me about him. Some kind of galactic con-man who accompanied her and the Doctor for a while. He should be dead, but is she thinks he’s with the Doctor, then he is. She said he was a time traveller, but more of a tradesman kind than a hero one, if you get my meaning.”
“So… An immortal time lord and probably-dead time-travelling scam artist are searching for some way to get her back to your old universe, she’s supposed to sleep a lot even though she keeps waking up, they will detect that void thing we’re all covered with and the police box ship is helping them to get her through?”
Jackie sniffed and nodded, wiping her nose with a hankie.
“I suppose so.”
“Then let’s hope they know what they are doing, because I’m afraid we’re out of options.”

Written by Srebrna

2014/06/10 at 02:53

[PL] Narodziny – gory

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Czyli pierwsze krasnoludy

Gdysmy sie obudzili dnia onego pod niebem blekitnym a jasnym, gory wznosily sie wokol nas surowemi jeszcze kamieniami, a lasy, co one gory porastaly, pelne zwierzyny wszelakiej i jagod byly pelne. Szlismy tak naprzod, powoli, z podziwieniem na cuda one spogladajac, a rece tych, co w kamieniu pozniej pracowac mieli, same sie do roboty rwaly. Kiedysmy doszli do polanki, gdzie usiasc i wygodnie odpoczac mozna bylo, rozgladalismy sie z podziwieniem, jak tez piekne i zachwytu godne sa wysokie gory, jakie cudne stad widac naokolo rzeczy i jako nam dobrze bedzie w onych gorach mieszkac. Slow jeszcze na nie nie mielismy, w pierwszym dniu zycia naszego dziecmi swiata bedac mlodemi.

Rzeka o nas, ize krasnoludy na kamieniu sie rodza, a kobiet krasnoludzkich nie ma i nikt takich nie zna. Lez mowia, bo sama kobieta jestem, z rodzicow krasnoludzkich pochodze, a kazdy z nas jak i ojca, tak i matke mial. Wtedy i kobiet bylo kilka, wszak ktos rod nasz zaczac musial. Byly one i podobne do swoich mezow i braci i niepodobne naraz. Tego samego wzrostu i postawy, lecz glosow i dloni delikatniejszych, a brod nie noszace (o co niektorzy zwykli nas pomawiac).

Noc jednak nadeszla, slonce za gory powoli sie zsunelo, a my zasypialismy, nie majac jeszcze domu ni nijakego schronienia nad glowa dla siebie. Gwiazdy patrzyly wiec na dzieci gor, mrugajac swemi jasnemi oczyma, a my spalismy spokojnie, ufni w swoja sile i bezpieczni, w samym sercu gor.

Ze switem, gdy slonce wrocilo, podzielilismy sie na wiele grup, wedle zainteresowan, mozliwosci i umiejetnosci, jakie kto w sobie odkryl. Jedni kuli w skale i ci mieli znalezc jaskinie, w ktorych by mieszkac mozna. Inni tajniki metalu odkrywali i bron oraz narzedzia tworzyli. Jeszcze inni sie jeli polowania, tworzenia zbroic czy ozdob. Niektorzy zas, w walce z zagrozeniami widzac swoje zycie, wojennym cwiczeniom sie oddali.

Zawsze wsrod skal zywot swoj pedzac, jako skaly stalismy sie twardzi. Jako dzieci gor, hardzi i wyniosli bywamy, jak one wynosza sie ponad wszystko. Odporni na niepomyslnosc losu i przeciwnosci zycia, dumni jestesmy i oszczedni w slowach.

Tako nas widza z zewnatrz, niekiedy jednak dume i oszczednosc w slowach na glupote i tepote mieniajac, a hardosc z bezczelnoscia mylac. Tako nas medrcy w Oxenfurcie pisza i tak sie nowych studentow uczy.

Coz tedy rzec mozna ze slow prawdy…?

Written by Srebrna

2014/06/08 at 00:00

Posted in MUD/RPG

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But if you can still dream – 20

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To die, to sleep;

To die, to sleep;
To sleep! Perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause.
Hamlet III, 1

Doctor: Sleeping positions

His bed was messed up to an unusual degree.
Once he accepted the fact that there is, indeed, another live being on his ship when he is sleeping, the easiness of sleep itself came quite quickly. Of course he could go for weeks on weeks without more than a nap now and then. He still could. But he preferred not to, considering what could happen if he drove himself to sleep deprivation. Like his humans for all these years, who liked to sleep in, some even joking that a time-travelling ship lets them sleep millenia in one stretch, he now took his time and relaxed. A deep, proper, full-sized sleep would also come, at some point. This way he could make sure his next regeneration wouldn’t wreck his whole body and mess with his mind. No more of this – if, and it was a big IF, if he had to regenerate again, Jack will be there to oversee it, get him to medbay ASAP and check his vitals. Also, TARDIS will be able to direct Jack to whatever nutritients they would be needing, because after last time with tea (and previous – damn hard to find bananas, when one is floating in freezing water in an evening coat and too-tight suit pants!) he wanted to make sure he’d get exactly what he would need and without delay.
He lied there, looking at the ceiling, trying to understand what was different. He never planned this kind of things before. They just… happened. Companions coped. He managed. OK, not every regeneration was particularily brilliant point in his life – especially the sixth him was nothing to write home about – but he got through, survived and went on.
Now, he was planning and it was, in fact, scaring him a bit. The very fact that he sat down and explained to Jack the mechanics of regeneration, the first signs, the possible causes, risky situations, outcomes, needed materials, protocols and definite no-no’s (“Don’t give me aspirin, ever, even if I beg for it, or someone thinks it may help my heart”, “Never get me to a hospital. EVER. EVEN if you think I finally died – medbay is good enough, but if it really gets weird, or my hearts don’t start, run Protocol 3, it is coded to your voice pattern. TARDIS will lock everything and get us, top-speed, to dr Grace Holloway, San Francisco. It has to be after 1999, and she will know what to do…”, “No glucose IVs or any other nutrients intravenously – they may go the wrong way”).
He was feeling a bit queasy about giving Jack so much information about himself, but every time he thought about keeping something to himself, a small tiny thought popped up in his brain, reminding him that this, like thousand of other things, may be the detail that saves his life or sanity the next time.
Bed was messed up.
Not by him. He slept on his side, on one side of the 7 feet wide and long bed. The other side of the bed was messed and it radiated… body heat? Residue of a living being sleeping there, with him?
“Jack! What the hell!?”
He was suddenly very, very much awake. And very angry.
And then there was a scream.
A girl was screaming, scared out of her mind, but it was like a music for his ears. Even when the scream suddenly stopped and he heard kitchen implements falling with clatter, his crazy smile was widening.
“Jack!” he burst into the kitchen, where the Captain was trying, in vain, to hide his best parts with a pot and a cooking apron and looking madly at the exact spot that the Doctor was now standing on.
“D..dd….dddd…”
“At first, I thought you brought some company on board and they mistook the rooms” Doctor said in a conversational tone, leaning on the door frame. “But now I think you were quite alone today, and it was actually only me that slept… not alone.”
“Wh…? What?”
“Did you, or did you not, in fact, just got caught parading butt-naked around the kitchen and scared Rose Tyler into the next universe?”
“Doctor!”
“But that’s great!” he smiled maniacally. “That means she actually was here! I mean, look at you – well, maybe not, but still – she saw you. Did you see her? I most certainly heard her, oh yes. And TARDIS felt her existence appear and then shut down again.”
“I saw her” Jack gave up the efforts to cover himself and settled on just not showing the most important bits. Somehow getting caught naked in the kitchen twice didn’t seem as much fun as getting caught naked in his bedroom, by some appropriate person. “She was here, she looked at me, and screamed. May I tell you what it does to my self-esteem, to have girls scream with fear when they see me? May I?”
“You may not. But you may tell me what she looked like” the Doctor scrunched his nose and sat at the table. “Also, you may turn off the gas under that pan, before the eggs burn.”
After a few minutes (and one short trip to Jack’s wardrobe) they were sitting on their usual places and Jack was inhaling his scrambled eggs, trying not to choke when he related the very short story of his encounter with their most beloved friend.
“She walked in. Not appeared here, walked. When I rerun what I heard just before she showed up, I know I noticed steps in the corridor, but thought it was just something in the kitchen. Then she stood by the door, probably slightly stunned by all the beauty…”
“Captain.”
“Very well. I turned ’round, feeling eyes on my ass – a bit intrusive. She stared at me for at most two seconds and then screamed. She bent forward, still crying something, and flickered out.”
“Flickered… out?”
“Like a damn Princess Leia on a bad recording.”
“But when she was here, she was material? I mean, not see-through, or flickering?”
“No, solid, totally. And then she blinked out and in once and disappeared.”
Doctor pouted slightly, pondering the new data.
“I think… I… Well. Hm.”
“Very informative, thank you.”
Doctor snatched last half-burnt toast.
“I think I need something to eat. Also, I think – I am very hopeful! – that we can, in fact, pull her through.”

The next ship-evening he laid there, on “his” side of the bed, curled around “her” pillow. Still somewhat smelling of her.
Next morning didn’t bring anything new, but for a few blonde hair, which he collected gleefully and took to the TARDIS lab for identification.
Blonde hair turned out to be emitting – still active – void particles. Their roots, however, gave something even more interesting – the DNA of, well, human origins, but very much mutated. And the mutations were such that the Doctor stared at the readout for several good seconds before comprehending them. Including the fact that the tiny wisp of energy still stuck to these cells was pulsating with the familiar golden glow.

Written by Srebrna

2014/06/05 at 02:50

[PL] Narodziny – gwiazdy

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Czyli pierwsze elfy.

Gdy obudziliśmy się tego dnia, pierwsze ujrzeliśmy drzewa. Drzewa i ich liście, przeszywane promieniami słonecznymi. Plamy słońca kładły się na cudownie zielonej trawie, pachnącej ziemi, korze drzew, pełnych błękitach strumieni i na nas samych, zachwyconych otaczającym nas pięknem i sobą.

Jak dzieci cieszyliśmy się tym, co wokół nas żyło i rosło. Pośród drzew biegaliśmy, w radości pierwszej, nie znając jeszcze ich imion, nie umiejąc nazwać siebie wzajem, lecz ciesząc się pięknem otaczającego nas świata. Stawialiśmy niezgrabne, niepewne kroki w wielkim tańcu wszechrzeczy, gdy słońce powoli wznosiło się nad nasze głowy.

Południe, gdy słońce stało nad nami, oblewając blaskiem i ciepłem wszystko wokół, przywitaliśmy na skraju lasu. To, że las się kończy, zdziwiło nas, bo przywyknąć już zdążyliśmy do tego, że las jest wszędzie i tak nam się zdało, że jest wszędzie. Zatrzymaliśmy się, a w tych kilku udereniach serca słońce dotarło do zenitu i znów zaczęło wędrować, lecz tym razem po zachodniej stronie nieboskłonu. Jego długie, jasne promienie wdzierały się między pnie, tworząc cienie, w których kryliśmy się, zadziwieni nowym pięknem i krainą wzgórz, która rozpościerała się przed nami.

Szmaragdowe i niemal błękitne połacie ciągnęły się na setki i tysiące kroków, a za nimi najbystrzejsze oczy dojrzały inne lasy i inne wzgórza, a za nimi – cały cudowny świat.

Staliśmy więc tak, a słońce chyliło się ku zachodowi, a gdy czerwieniało już nad najdalszym wzgórzem, pobiegliśmy za nim, bez tchu, chcąc dogonić cudowne światło, zrozpaczeni, że już go nie ujrzymy.

Jednak zanim zdołaliśmy dobiec na szczyt pierwszego wzgórza, słońce zaszło.

Załkaliśmy z żalu, lecz nasze łzy obeschły szybko. Nad naszymi głowami pojawiły się pierwsze gwiazdy.

Written by Srebrna

2014/06/03 at 00:00

Posted in MUD/RPG

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But if you can still dream – 19

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To die, to sleep;

To die, to sleep;
To sleep! Perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause.
Hamlet III, 1

Rose: Benzodiazepines

“We have no idea” the frog-like medic stated. “Your blood results are good, maybe only the iron levels are a bit too low – you could benefit from a change of diet, Miss Tyler. But in the behaviour tests I see overall slowness of response, drop in the general awareness and significant problems with concentration. How do you feel in these areas? I know that the poisoning with whatever it was – hopefully someone will identify it – might have affected your brain processes, but nobody could have predicted that the effects will last that long.”
She pursed her lips.
“I’m afraid I’m not sleeping very well lately” she answered finally. “And then during the day I can’t focus on text, I have to read the same sentence three times… It’s as if I could not take any more knowledge in. I just can’t work like this…”
He nodded, chewing the tip of his pencil.
“Your performance will be, I’m afraid, deteriorating. I’d say you should take at least three weeks of vacation,but you Torchwood freaks wouldn’t recognize vacation if it came up close and spit on your shoe.”
“I already have taken a week. This seizure came on the first day… What should I do, go home and watch TV all the time?”
He scratched back of his head in thought.
“Let me think… I’d suggest you take a dose of this” he scribbled on a notepad “and simply stay at home. Read or listen to music, no watching TV – the blinking pictures may have adverse effect. Stay as long as you need. I’m putting you on a prolonged sick leave.”
She sighed.
“What does it do?”
He looked up at her.
“The medicine. What does it do and what does it contain? I’m allergic to some drugs, so I’d rather not add asthma or spots to the whole mess.”
He recited the ingredients slowly, watching her nod at every name.
“Very well. Here’s your prescription. Pick the stuff up in the hospital apothecary. They will be expecting you.”
Bedside manner from hell. How did he became a doctor?
Dismissed, she stood up and slowly walked to the door.

She fell backwards on her bed and looked at the label. Of course the booklet inside the box was thicker than the capsule holder and she totally disregarded it, only taking a look at the “adverse drug reactions”.
Lots. Aw, hell.

Of course she got at least half of the list of these. Her throat was sore and somehow constricted, her left hand was a bit stiff and she would have sworn someone had wrapped her brain in cotton candy.
She got up quietly, putting the cover back over his sleeping form and sneaked out to the corridor. She more felt her way forward than saw it – her brain still working on low power, eyes not quite catching the details, ears…
Someone was singing.
The voice carried along the corridor with firmness, self-assuredness and openness of a professional singer. It was a rich, strong but surprisingly mellow tenor which reminded her of something, but she couldn’t quite place what.
Before she made a conscious decision, there she was, standing in the door to TARDIS kitchen, the most homey room on the whole ship.
Lights were low, but the stove lamp was lit so she could take in all the peculiarity of the scene – a pan full of scrambled eggs, a stack of half-burned toast on a plate, a butter dish and, in the middle of it, singing “Can you feel the love tonight” into the whisk, dancing and making wild gestures was a dead man. Naked.
She apparently stood there for a bit too long – took some time to analyse her observations – because he turned.
She saw the perfect face, slightly tousled hair, sculpted muscle and the infuriating smile that made women (and some men) swoon at the very sight of him.
His lips moved, eyes widened, he was saying something, walking to her, reaching out, but she didn’t hear, didn’t see, didn’t think. She screamed.

“Seizure!” the nurse cried, as the body on the table tensed up and contorted painfully. The attendants grabbed a flailing limb each and held Rose down on the bed.
“As you see” Martha Jones gestured helplessly. “We have no new ideas. Or, rather, they have no idea, as I have been denied access to Rose’s records.”
Pete Tyler twisted his gloves in desperation as he watched his wife look forlornly at Rose through the thick glass.
“I’ll make sure you get authorised” he uttered finally. “No way they are treating her like a test subject. I won’t be able to be here all the time. Even then they would probably be able to go behind my back. You will make sure they understand that for cutting up Rose they will pay by being cut themselves. Cut away from the employee list at least” He squeezed his eyes shut. “If they cannot come to any reasonable solution, we’ll take her back home. Can I rely on you, doctor Jones?”
She nodded slowly, wondering what she got herself into.
“You will need details that are in Rose’s Torchwood personnel file. When you read it, you will understand why it is of utmost importance not to let these… butchers… find any reason to cut Rose open or try any invasive treatment.”
Jackie turned to them, determination shining in her face.
“Doctor Jones, my daughter is something special. I’m not saying this because she’s my little girl. She may be, when time comes, the only person who can save this whole universe. And I like this one as much as my previous one – even better, considering Pete here – I’d much rather it stayed as it is. Oh, stop it, Pete. She will read Rose’s file, mine too, if she wants, and it’s all there. Doctor Jones” she turned to the astonished medic. “Rose was born to me and Peter Tyler who died before she even walked. We, and one other, were transported to this reality a bit under two years ago, and have replaced two persons who were killed at that time.”
“Cybermen” Martha whispered.
“Jackie Tyler of this world was converted” Pete’s voice was hard and low. “Jackie agreed to stay in her place.”
“Only Rose never existed here, so we had to create a backstory for her. So, of course, parts of her medical history are sham, only put there to explain her visible scars and some changes that might have occurred.”
“But couldn’t you have just given the real explanation? After all, any accidents she might have had couldn’t be so different from what could happen here… Could they?”
“Werewolf scratching across her back, 1800’s stitching. Laser burns. Non-earth colourings in her tattoo. If watched through red-green 3D glasses, she is surrounded by a swarm of shining particles. Enough?”
“She is also mildly telepathic, highly empathic and has slight telekinetic abilities” Jackie added. “Do you feel we could have included any of this in a normal report?”
Martha Jones, MD, just nodded.
A day (and a sleepless night) later a very determined Martha Jones was standing in front of the main desk and repeating her demand. Finally, after the third recitation of her authorisations, the guard gave up and let her in. She noted his name carefully. Pete will want to know.
After an evening of extensive reading and a night talking to Pete and Jackie, she had, finally, knowledge on which she could base her analysis of Rose’s health. And also re-evaluate whatever she herself diagnosed before.
Which was a lot.
“Basing on the blood samples, Rose is no longer human. No human being would have been able to live with these mineral levels, low sugar and, well, several other abnormalities. I will have to cook up results that will give a diagnosis of severe anaemia and some general infection. Giving her supplements and general antibiotics – with reference to her allergy listing, of course – may help her and will give the team something to do. Also, it seems that this situation is a recent development – her last blood test was only five days ago – and based on it, your Torchwood physician prescribed the pills – it was showing slight iron deficiency, nothing more interesting.”
Pete nodded and simply turned his laptop towards her, an application to falsify blood results already running.
“There is, though, another and much graver problem” Martha had his attention immediately. “Her sleep patterns. She doesn’t sleep. No more than an hour per day.
“Although Rose is, as I said, probably non-human, we have never yet met a species that would be able to survive on next to no sleep. Rose’s EEG shows that even when we perceive her as sleeping, her brain is still working at full speed. Only for an hour or so she goes into what would be, for any of us, a light sleep. No deep sleep phase, no REM – only an hour of barely useful nap every twenty-six hours or so.”
“That means brain damage?” Pete has seen people go without sleep for much longer than was healthy for them.
“Not necessarily” Martha bit her lower lip. “The blood results may be an outcome or be linked to the sleeping problems. She may be suffering no damage at all. If her physiology has been altered enough to cope with the blood abnormalities, it may also be coping with no sleep. But I don’t know, frankly, ANY species with such ability.”
Jackie made a strangled noise. The other two looked at her suspiciously as she raked her perfectly coiffed hair with her fingers.
“I know one” she finally uttered.
Pete sat straighter suddenly.
“You think…?”
“I suppose so.”
“Damn.”
Martha waited, suddenly no longer the centre of attention. And quite glad about that. She was a physician, not a xenologist, and her knowledge of aliens was limited to the humanoid ones that have been apprehended by Torchwood. Finally, the pair returned their focus to her.
“What are the real risks here, doctor?”
She inhaled slowly.
“Starting from the ‘human’ risks – as you said, brain damage, personality disorders, ataxia, aphasia, anything, basically. Any other? Well, hard to estimate without knowing the physiology of whatever species she is mutating into, but I suppose similar, including additional physical changes, and, if the change in total is too large, organs shutdown. For the time being, she is staying without contact with us, but her brain is working full-speed, as if she was completely conscious. Her heart rate is 160, BP almost 145/110. This means she’s burning down energy in a rate that is hard to equal by the ‘safe’ IV nutrients we can give her. Also, if this goes for much longer, her heart is going to sustain damage. The options we have now is either putting her into deeper sleep – to make her brain and heart slow down – or try to wake her up in order to check what is actually going on with her.”
Jackie’s eyes jumped nervously from the doctor to her husband.
“Do we have any safe drugs that would keep her in deeper state of sleep for long enough?”
“Fortunately, yes. She had no adverse reaction to Thitrax, so we can give her the deep-coma amount safely and work from there” she rubbed her eyes and nose tiredly. “However, there is always a risk that she won’t wake up from this. I have no way of even guessing the state of her brain – what it is supposed to be and how badly it’s screwed up now. I’m sorry. But I’d rather say it now, then surprise you with this when she doesn’t came back.”
“But if you try to wake her up now…?” Jackie’s lips trembled.
“Her heart will probably give in. And I frankly can’t say what we could do about it, as transplant would probably be out of question.”
Pete drew his wife closer.
“Deep coma. At least we will still have options then.”

Written by Srebrna

2014/06/01 at 01:45