“The time between shakes. The gap is closing at a steady rate. If the climax is what we’re counting down to then we have only moments left.”

Cryallai looked at Ennill, “What will happen at the climax?”

Ennill gripped the ground with claw like hands digging his very fingers into the solid dirt floor, “A great release of energy. Those purple waves are ambient magical energy. At first it was above us affecting the sky and causing the storm. These waves are now being pushed through the ground itself causing minor treamors.”

“Minor!?” Cryallai and Juniper exclaimed and asked together.

“Only because the ground has yet to rip open. I imagine this house is build well enough to withstand it for the most part, especially since you boarded it up and spelled it shut. The town on the other hand will be more devastated, including the crops.”

“The water tower!” exclaimed Cryallai.

“Is more than secure to withstand this part, I expected this.”

Cryallai changed coarse and crawled towards Ennill, “Expected it! Why didn’t you tell!……” She stopped in mid argument. “Ennill! Your back.”

Juniper turned to look and gasped. Ennill was no longer wearing his cloak as it has slowly been melted to shreds and lay scattered behind him. His tunic was also shredded and mostly hung around his waist and pants. But it wasn’t his lack of clothes that surprised them. It was six purple bruises that formed imperfect circles on his back. In the centre of these circles were six marble sized black blobs.

“The Black pudding it got you!” Cryallai got to her feet in fear. The tremors continued but she didn’t buckle. “You IDIOT!” she yelled, “They hit you when you blocked me. I could have phased out.”

“I did not expect you to react in time, I couldn’t let that happen. It’s not a big deal it barely hurts.” The black pudding vibrated on their own and Ennill stopped to wince secretly in pain.

However it did not escape Juniper’s notice. “Get rid of them!” she screamed.

“Fire was bad, should have gone with cold.” she raised her hand pointing a flat palm at his back. “Ray of frost,” she whispered and a faint blue light moved like a beam of light. She moved her hand rapidly as to not waste time. There was a crackling sound as the ray came into contact with the Black Puddings. When she was done the six stone like orbs fell harmlessly to the ground. The black bruises remained etched into Ennill’s skin.

Cryallai tried to run over but a tremor knocked her on her backside sending the remains of her apron and skirt over her head.

“Cryallai we don’t have much time,” replied Ennill looking over and catching a very good look at her smooth elven legs and marigold yellow panties. Cryallai found her wait around her apron and skirt and caught Ennill staring right at her crotch. She took in a good lungful of air, but before she could give him a good verbal lashing there was a dead calm. She looked around and turned back to Ennill when the ceiling above began to ripple. Ennill and Juniper could only watch as a trench began to open in the ceiling above them raining mounds of dirt, stone and wood.

The room became dark as the dust suffocated the torch and lights from the staircase snuffed out. The three off them could only sit and cover their mouths as a layers of dirt settled upon them. Cryallai’s emerald was the only remaining light but it was clouded by the dust in the air. Screams and voices could be heard from upstairs but nothing intelligible.

A strong vibration radiated from what Cryallai could only assume was the same directions that the purple energy was coming from. There was an odd magical sensation that ran over every inch of her body. From the tips of her exposed toes, over her heel and around her ankles. Moving slowly over her smooth legs tickling her knees The vibration moved steadily over her pelvis and hips continuing around her stomach and torso swirling separately around her now exposed breasts up to her shoulders and down her slender, yet strong arms towards the ends of her fingernails. She couldn’t breathe for the few seconds it surrounded her neck, face and sending an electric thrill through her scalp as it ran through her hair.

A squeak drew her attention up at the ceiling. The rooms above continued to grow weaker as the trench widened letting in more debris. Two crossing beams were bending under the weight of debris. Cryallai looked to Ennill and Juniper who coughed and tried to clear dust themselves off.

Ennill noticed the squeak and looked up. The constant vibration still preventing him from moving.

“Cryallai!” he reached out. She could see a sparkle of gold in the centre of his green eyes, “Be carefull. This is the climax. Ambient magic that’s now coursing through us. Penetrating out skin, through our muscles adjourns through our nerves and charging our very bones. It’s dangerous now for us to use any spells.”

“Why?” asked Juniper.

“It’s an unnatural charge of power. It can boost a spell if we could harness it properly. Since we can’t it’ll just do it randomly. There is no telling how even an even simple spell will react to so much power.”

Cryallai looked at the beams and felt the concern in Ennill’s words. He knew she could save herself with a shield spell, but without knowing how the charge will affect it. She looked back to Ennill painfully and saw his worried face staring back.

Ennill closed his eyes and Cryallai let out a tear. He didn’t want to see her trapped. Her heart began to burn in pain. She steadily raised an arm above her. She could see some of the hair on her arms sticking up on end. “Mage Armour!” A blue magical sphere quickly formed in her hand before it imploded knocking her against the ground.

“No!” cried Ennill.

Cryallai’s head throbbed in pain and her eyes wanted to close. She strained to keep them open looking at Ennill whose concerned eyes touched her heart. She heard the beams finally snap and she closed her eyes. A flash of golden light was the last thing she saw before she fell asleep, happy that she did not feel weight of what was about to crush her.

Chapter 6 – Enxai is a post from: The Glaring Facts

Miaze and Rosie appeared in the dim emerald light on the far side of the purple ooze. “Keep away from the thing, It’ll eat through anything.”

“It’s Black Pudding!” exclaimed Ennill recognizing it even in the dear dark.

The ooze bubbled upwards forming a variety of shapes, orienting on Ennill. Juniper reacted first sending her dagger flying into the creature. The ooze moved from the force but didn’t appear phased by the attack. The dagger was simply enveloped into the creatures constantly moving slime. It reoriented on Juniper and lunged foreword sending three blobs threw the air.

Juniper shrieked frozen in fear. The purple blobs missed flying right past her and at the wooden shelf. Opening her eyes she saw the blobs slowly eating away at the wooden planks and jars of preserves.

The group backed away and the ooze stood still. It’s mass constantly moving in place as if trying to determine who to attack.

“I don’t think it can see us, just react to our movements and detect us by our warmth,” whispered Cryallai. The ooze oriented and shot several more blobs in her direction. Cryallai used magic to phase out allowing them to pass harmlessly through her intangible body.

Ennill nodded and looked in the direction of the blobs. Each blob was slowly making it’s way to the ceiling.

Cryallai shifted her eye to Miaze. The tall muscular elf was born to be a warrior. His face was long with brown hair and eyes, it was unnerving to see such a strong man so nervous about a threat. It sent a cold shiver down her spine.

A smile flickered across her face, “Use that flame spell.” she whispered.

Ennill shook his head which caused another glob to be shot in his direction. The glob flew over his shoulder and landed with a sticky thump onto the floor. “I don’t think….”

Cryallai stared into Ennill’s green eyes, “Now!”

Ennill looked into her blue eyes and gave a single firm nod. Stepping towards the Black Pudding he put both hands in front of him, “Sunburst” The individual flames formed by each palm coalesced together to form the sunburst. The Black Pudding lunged foreword towards warmth and before it made contact the sun burst sending searing flames over it’s black slick body. The creature squealed in pain as it’s body began to bubble unnaturally.

The flames ran along the floor and walls until they burned out. It’s warmth broke the cold air drafting in from the other end; and it’s light cut the darkness allowing Cryallai to draw in more of her surroundings. The ceiling, in places, was broken and trying to cave in. The pudding continued to boil and Cryallai smiled, “You did it!”

She looked at Ennill who stared at the pudding with concern.

“What’s wrong?” asked Juniper grabbing a piece of burning Debri as a torch.

Rose growled for a second then whimpered and she slunk backwards. Miaze held his sword defensively and withdrew, “We should take this time to get out of here.”

“Why?” asked Cryallai annoyed at their lack of enthusiasm in their victory.

“Ever let pudding cook for too long on the stove?” asked Miaze.

Before she could ponder his words the Black Pudding’s bubbles began to pop sending out tiny fragments. Ennill lunged in front of Cryallai letting the blast strike the back of his cloak.

Cryallai tried to see over his broad shoulder but Ennil grabbed her exposed shoulders, “We need to leave.”

Cryallai and Juniper nodded and headed the way they came. As they turned a corner they felt the earth shake bringing them to their hands and knees

“Was that the pudding?” asked Juniper terrified.

“If only it was,” replied Ennill. “The climax of this energy storm…”

“We’ll be buried alive!” exclaimed Cryallai as she stared at the staircase only feet from them. She tried to stand but the earth shook again forcing her back down. Dust and dirt trickled down from the damaged ceiling above them. They could hear a crash some distance behind them.

“Do you think Miaze escaped?” asked Juniper

“Let’s focus on us for the time,” suggested Ennill.

Cryallai could sense concern in his tone and gave a firm nod. Looking at the stairs the saw the last shake had dislodged them slightly. “We don’t have time to mend the stairs and I don’t have a spell to climb that height.”

“I can solve our staircase dilemma it’s our proximity to it that I have a problem with,” replied Ennill.

The ground shook again making moving difficult. Cryallai could feel the earths tremors through her bodies nervous system. Every time she raised an arm or leg she couldn’t put it back down properly until the tremor stopped.

“one…two….three….” mumbled Juniper as she slowly crawled towards the staircase. “one….two…thr….” she stopped in the middle of the word.

Chapter 5 – Enxai is a post from: The Glaring Facts

“Ennil!” she shouted again but her words were deafened by thunder and rain against the soggy ground.

“Enn….” her sentence was broken by a powerful roar. The proximity of it scared her and she fell into the mud. Forcing her eyes to see through the rain she saw the figure of a large dragon with silver scales.

“Cryallai!” shouted Ennil.

Cryallai’s elven eyes could hardly see through the rain but her ears could sense he was near the dragon. “Ennil there’s a dragon.”

“I know,” he replied and she could hear a smile in his voice. “You shouldn’t be out here. It’s important that the house of Reehan remain intact.”

“How can you think about business right now there’s a dragon right…” She stopped as she felt his warm finger pressed against her lips. “I’ll explain that soon. Right now we have a problem. The storm has caused damage to several structures. Mainly a water tower at the north end. We need to stabilize it.”

“How?” asked Cryallai.

“We’ll find out when we get there, Grab my hand.”

She reached out and felt his strength haul her up and onto what she could only assume was the Silver Dragons back.

“What do I hold onto!” she cried and then realized she could open her eyes. “Wait I can see.”

Ennil was holding onto the Dragons neck and her side. “Kumisame here is a silver Dragon. She has magic that enables to to control the weather.”

“Then she can get rid of the storm!” exclaimed Cryallai.

The Dragon snorted and Ennil smiled, “Remember what I said, this isn’t natural. Something is stirring up this energy. We’re on the ring of it, if I’m correct there will be a pulse of energy when it reaches it’s limit, then it should calm. Right now Kumisame is controlling enough to allow us to fly without being affected.”

Cryallai didn’t have time to think as they landed at the north end of town. She could see the water tower swaying in the wind. “What’s the plan?”

Kumisame walked over to the tower on all fours. She stood as tall as a barn and he wings curled up nicely as she walked. Approaching the tower she stood on two legs and grabbed it.

“Steady Kumisame we don’t want to break it…”

The Silver Dragon snorted and exhaled a powerful consuming vapor that froze the torrential rain around the water tower. Ennil raised his hands and Cryallai jumped back. Plants around them absorbed the water and began to grow twisting around the frozen structure.

“That should hold it for now,” replied Ennil.

Between jags of lightning a wave of purple filled the air and dissipated over their heads.

“What’s happening?” yelled Cryallai as she looked in the direction the wave had come from. Smaller rings of purple energy seemed to emanate from that direction.

“The climax is coming soon, me must find shelter.” Ennil looked at Kumisame who roared something in dragon speech.

Cryallai’s mind thought about her home and her friends, “I’m worried about them.”

“It’s not safe to fly anymore…” Ennil was stopped by a cold and soft hand.

“Don’t tell me what’s safe, bring me back to the house,” Cryallai argued.

Ennil removed her delicate hand and held it in his own. Her skin was cool to the touch and soft like fine silk. Cryallai’s heart skipped a beat at the touch of his firm warm hand.

Ennil looked back at Kumisame, “Can you make it to the house?”

Kumisame snorted in disgust and Ennil smiled. “She’ll take us.”

The two got back on the dragon and flew back towards the house. The purple rings continued to sail over their heads and dissipate. The storm was much stronger and the dragons weather control was failing. Cold wind lashed at them as they dodged debris that flew through the air. Logs, posts and pieces of fences. Kumisame dodged the big ones and slashed at the ones she couldn’t.

Cryallai could see the house up ahead. The two large metal wire gates stood proudly in their way bearing the coat of arms of Leokwan. The Dragon aimed herself at the gate and charged right through breaking the seal spell and denting the gates.

A loud hum filled the air and the frequency of purple rings increased. Cryallai ran to the front doors and Ennil followed. The doors opened at her touch but the wind made them harder to close. Ennil managed to get them closed and they blocked it with a nearby couch.

The windows were boarded from inside and furniture was rearranged. The maids had used had set up circles of protection around the fragile pieces.

“Where is the light coming from?” asked Ennil and then spotted a glowing chandelier. None of the candles were lit but the metal glowed itself magically. “Genius.”

Cryallai ignored him and reached for the far door. As she opened it a dozen tiny critters ran in. Their faces and bodies were humanoid, but had insect like antenna, wings and cricket legs. “What in the world!” she said jumping back.

Ennil opened the palms of his hands, “Their Grigs.”

“Why are they in the house?” asked Cryallai. While in a frenzied laugh the Grigs began to jump on the furniture and swing on the chandelier. Two jumped up and tugged on Cryalllai’s tattered apron.

A swirl of flames erupted from the palms of Ennil hands and struck a floor where many had gathered. Several lay dead on the floor while others scattered in panic. Cryallai managed to get the ones tugging on her apron with a strong Mage Hand attack.

“This is getting us no where,” replied Ennil as the two of them threw their spells at the now vengeful Grigs.

“I agree, let’s go.”

They continued down the hall where it split into two paths and a door leading into the main chamber. Ennil jerked his head to the side, “I hear screams!”

“The Library?” replied Cryallai as they ran to the noise. Opening the door they saw a huge tree had crashed through the large stain glass window. A small elven woman was trying helplessly to defend herself from a hoard of Grigs.

“Now we know how they came in,” replied Ennil. He pulled a string from his clothing and then clasped his hands together with the string remaining erect. A new wind stirred in the room as an invisible force pulled the girl away and scattered the Grigs.

“Juniper!” Exlcaimed Cryallai as she rushed to examine her injuries. Her maid uniform was in shreds exposing her soft pale flesh, pink bra and panties.

“I’m sorry, I tried.” Cried Juniper as she looked up at Cryallai and then her eyes bulged, “What happened to you?”

Cryallai looked at herself and hadn’t realized that the wind and rain had left her own uniform in worse shape. The tear she had made in her collar had continued to fray revealing her round c sized breasts. The cold water and wind had made them hard and erect threatening to burst from her yellow bra. Her tattered apron threatened to show her matching panties. Cryallai quickly grabbed herself in embarrassment, “I didn’t even realize.” She scoweled at Ennil, “You knew.”

Ennil made several hand gestures and the tree withdrew itself from the wall and an arcane circle replaced the area where the window had sat.

he turned to Cryallai and smiled, “I had noticed and intended in informing you when there wasn’t such an urgency.”

Cryallai rolled her eyes, “ Good save.”

Juniper held out the green opal, “Please come back.”

Cryallai smiled and placed it above her breasts. Using a repair spell she managed to fix part of her shirt to create a tattered makeshift top.

“This window and the grigs are just the beginning. Something broke into the Cellar. The Groundskeep is trying to get it out.” announced Juniper.

“Let’s go,” cried Cryallai as she burst through the doors and headed towards the cellar. Ennil and Juniper ran close behind.

The Grigs turned on them on sight jumped and tearing at whatever they could grab. Ennil raised his palm and sent out searing flames that struck a couple of Grigs in mid jump. Juniper removed a dagger from somewhere on her attire and slashed at the ones that continued to disrobe her.

Cryallai led them to the staircase into the cellar. They could hear faint voices and barking.

“That’s Miaze and Rosie,” replied Juniper.

“It’s dark,” replied Ennil.

The emerald on Cryallai’s tattered shirt began to glow a very deep green that extended like candle light. The entrance of the cellar was filled with kegs, barrels and shelves lined with preserved goods. A small hallway continued in front of them. The dark passageway was lowly illuminated by the green light.

“Where are they?” asked Juniper pointing her dagger towards the darkness.

“ I don’t here them,” added Ennil.

Cryallai stood motionless allowing her elven ears to concentrate. There was no footsteps. Only a slow suckling sound that was unfamiliar to her.

“Get away!” cried a voice in the distance, followed by a loud bark.

Ennil pulled the two of them back as a large purple mound fell to the ground in front of them.

Chapter 4 – Enxai is a post from: The Glaring Facts

The name rung in her head. It was familiar but she wasn’t sure why. Master Reehan hadn’t mentioned it but perhaps someone in passing. Cryallai looked to the stain on the floor.

“Mr Ennill, I am very sorry but as you can see I can not let you stay here…” a finger was pressed gently but firmly to her soft lips.

“I assure you this is fine, I will require new sheets for the bed and in the morning I will repay your hospitality in turn.”

He removed his finger from her lips and she stood there for a moment before turning to leave. Ennil closed the door and she walked around the corner before she collapsed to the floor. She touched her lips with her hands, the memory of his firm and warm finger against her lips remained.

“What’s going on with you Cryallai,” she whispered to herself. She ran her fingers over her head and through her blond hair. Everything seemed in order. Standing back on her feet and straightening her black maid blouse with a white apron with ruffled lace that ended at her knees with her skirt. A waist belt that tied into a neat but large bow in the back.

She looked towards the guest room and shook her head. How had he managed to gain the upper hand. Not in the last 10 years of employment had a guest ever overthrown her judgment. The worst part was she hadn’t really fought back.

‘Snap out of it Cryallai,’ she thought to herself. ‘It’s too late for the room. He’s there and if he wants to work his stay off tomorrow then you can get him to tackle that stain for you.’

She smiled feeling better about herself. She sent Juniper to inform him when dinner was to arrive and which bells would signal what to the help. It didn’t feel like much time had passed before the bell rang from the guest room.

“Do you want me to get it lady?” asked Juniper.

Cryallai smiled, “Are you taking a fancy to him?”

Juniper blushed, “A little my lady, but to be honest he asks for you.”

Cryallai was taken back by the words. The memory of his warm finger returned to her lips and her heart skipped.

“Are you alright?” asked Juniper.

Cryallai nodded, “I’m fine thank you. I’ll find out what he wants.”

She walked through several secret corridors between walls and knocked on the guest room door. “You called?”

Before she finished her sentence the door opened and Ennil stood in the doorway. “I was hoping it would be you.”

Cryallai kept her guard up, whatever spell or charm he was using wouldn’t work on her a second time. “How can I be of service.”

Ennil turned back towards the room and faced the window, “I’m afraid this storm is going to get worse before it get’s better. I know it’s not my place but I wanted to suggest we board the windows to prevent anything from breaking.”

Cryallai looked out the window and saw the rain was as fierce it was earlier that day, but hadn’t really changed. “How are you so sure?”

Ennil showed no emotion as he spoke, “Trust me, if it’s one thing I know it’s the elements. Something is causing a great stir of energy. Somewhere distant, but it’s reach will extend to us. If we can contact others it would be beneficial.”

Again Cryallai felt shaken. Her defense lowered and she nodded, “I’ll tell word to Miaze and we can get to work on the windows.”

A bolt of lightning broke the sky and thunder defend all noise. Cryallai felt Ennil tighten his muscles even at a distance.

“It’s worse than I thought…” replied Ennil. “I’m sorry I must go and prevent as much of this as I can. I will be back so keep an eye out for me.”

Cryallai watched Ennil run out of the room. She looked at the sky and saw a shape of silver between the bolts of lightning. “What does that fool think he’s going to do?” she asked and ran through the house. She activated the panic button, a magical system that had been installed in case of emergency.

“This is head Maid Cryallai. We have an emergency all hands report to the kitchen for instruction!”

As she ran towards the front door she saw Juniper.

“Wait! What’s happening? I just saw Ennil run out the door.”

“No time to explain, I need you to gather the staff and board all the windows. Ennil believes the storm is going to get worse.”

“Worse?”

Cryallai nodded, “No time.” She ripped the broach from her chest tearing the fabric in the process. “Take this and get everyone moving.”

“Where are you going?” yelled Juniper as Cryallai ran down the hall.

“I’m going to help Ennil, he seems to know what’s going on.”

Juniper watched Cryallai disappear behind a door. She looked at the broach with tattered cloth. The broach was a green opal with the Leokwan coat of arms. It was proof of her head maid status and matched the ones owned by the Groundskeep and Chef.

Cryallai ran outside into the pouring rain. Thunder made yelling as difficult as the rain made it to see.

“Ennil!” she called. There was no response. A crack of lightning revealed a silver shape in the sky ahead of them. Cryallai ran down the path to the front gate.

“Where are you going?” asked Miaze in a gruff voice.

“To find our guest.”

“I don’t think so. Ennil already passed through and when I lock these gates nothing short of an ogre is coming in.”

Cryallai felt Miaze hand grab her wrist forcing her to head back to the house. “I’m sorry I have to go. Juniper is in charge until I get back.” She cast a spell and became intangible. Miaze hand passed right through grabbing nothing but air and Cryallai walked through the gates. She knew on the way back the magic seal would prevent the spell from working. She was trapped until the storm passed.

Chapter 3 – Enxai is a post from: The Glaring Facts

After a particular rough weekend attending to two Ogre guests; Who had problems with a small group of travelers that walked through their territory and disturb a particularly ornery Ogress who sent them away as quickly as she could throw them.

Head Maid Cryallai was in a fine temper. An Ogre’s nature were clumsy and purposefully destructive. Leaving a trail of chaos on their wake. Luckily most objects could be repaired by magic and others could be replaced as easily. Their beds had not been used, luckily for the structures sake, but a the spot on the floor where they slept was stained dry and the sheets soiled beyond recovery.

“We can get rid of these Juniper,” Cryallai fumed and she ran her fingers through the parting of her long blond hair.

Juniper nodded silently and picked up the soiled linen and stuffed it into a waxed bag that could be easily cleaned. Her arms were also covered in enchanted leather gloves and cloth around her face to prevent breathing the fumes.

As Juniper left Cryallai examined the stain and sighed, “This is going to require more then I have time for. The Master has new guests arriving within the next two days. It’s too poignant to simply cover. What am I to do.”

A sudden flash of lightning filled the night sky. Cryallai looked out the window into the street and saw a torrential rain spewing from the clouds. She could see the silhouette of Miaze the Ground Keeper heading back to his house at the far side of the land.

Cryallai sighed and turned her attention back at the job at hand. To her luck the sound of the front door distracted her from her immediate task. A series of thunderous knocks made her run through the halls towards the greeting chamber. Her elven ears could sense the urgency of the knock and her strong womanly figure enabled her to run as swiftly as any bird and faster then any cat.

Upon reaching the door she threw it open. Wind bellowed through knocking her to the ground. Rain poured in around a tall bulky figure. At first she panicked thinking it to be one of their ogre guests returning but then she calmed as lightning revealed it to be an elf whose cloak added to his size.

The elven man offered his hand and helped Cryallai up. “Sorry to disturb you at this hour but the rain has forced myself upon your company.”

The man’s sweet words didn’t phase Cryallai, “My name is Cryallai, What can I do for you stranger?”

The man removed his cloak revealing a very well sculpted face with golden brown hair. Peircing green eyes seemed to stare into her soul. The Elf was very handsome but she was accustomed to controlling her emotions and focusing on the reality.

“A thousand pardons. I came to see Reehan about an approaching concern.”

“He’s out and he wont be back until tomorrow evening,” Cryallai replied shutting the door.

The elf nodded and stared into her blue eyes. Cryallai blinked and shook her head as if under some spell. The Elf remained smiling but it only made her defensive. “I take it you have no place to stay at the moment?”

The Elf closed his eyes in a sigh, “Sadly not, I was hoping to make it to the Inn before the rain had started but luck did not foresee it.”

Cryallai looked out the nearby window at the howling storm, it had come so suddenly it was no surprise the elf would be caught in it. “Unfortunately we do not have suitable accommodations for an elf tonight. I’m sure Miaze the groundskeep has a sturdy couch. If you don’t mind the company of his dog. Don’t get me wrong, Rosie is friendly, but she’s a golden retriever and a strong one at that.”

She waited for his response and turned from the window to see thee elf standing near the far door. “I do not wish to be a burden. I’m sure whatever company Reehan entertained is nothing I couldn’t deal with.”

Cryallai smiled at the thought.

“Now If I’m correct it’s this way to the guest chambers correct?”

Cryallai snapped to attention only to realize the elf had gone off without her permission. “Hey come back you don’t have permission to go through the house.”

The elf had turned the corner forcing her to run. She was tempted to signal the other help but as Head of the Maids she didn’t dare stoop so low. She could take on this persistent house guest herself. She flew through the hallways without a sound and found him in the guest room. The brown stain still apparent on the floor and the smell no better then it was before.

“I don’t even know your name,” stomped Cryallai as she blocked the elf from going further. She stared into his green eyes trying to mimic his intense stare.

Chapter 2 – Enxai is a post from: The Glaring Facts

The Metallic dragons made a pact to fight off their own brothers and spilled their blood across the land. The war ranged long with the minor dragon races trying to avoid the conflict. They made alliances with humans and elves to organize land rights and hunter permits.

Over the course of 50 years the Gem Dragons stopped the fighting, but the hate remains. As the chromatic and metallic dragons keep to their own lands battles still rage. All factions are hunted by the mortal and immortal alike for personal gain.

Now the fighting has subsided and a new age is being born. The Age of Dialgan. Ancient texts talk about a race of pure dragons that walked like man, spoke like elf and fought like Dwarves. Creatures of magic, power and wisdom. But these races left and what remained evolved into what could survive the ages that came.

Our story takes place in the Elven village of Iowenai. Nothing like the nearby capitol of Ersendal. The citizens of Iownai work hard cultivating the goods that they sell to the neighboring towns. Many Elven nobles keep secondary living arrangements on the eastern side where a dense jungle forest provide the perfect getaway from the mortality of city life.

One of these particular nobles is the house of Leokwan. Who is in charge of maintaining healthy relations to all the neighboring cities and finding diplomatic solutions to complicated disputes. Which often occur.

Reehan Leokwan works the capitol of Ersendal but uses his home in Iowenai to entertain his many guests. These range from Elves, Giants, Fairies, Kobolds, Humans and Orcs. However our story does not focus as much of Reehan of Leokwan but upon his staff and particular guest.

Chapter 1 – Enxai is a post from: The Glaring Facts

The book proposes nothing less than a new way of reading, which, for Macherey, is not about the reproduction of a meaning that already exists and merely lies waiting to be discovered by the critic. Traditional criticism, he notes, has a “tendency to slide into the natural fallacy of empiricism, to treat the work (the object of the enterprise of criticism) as factually given, spontaneously isolated for inspection. The work thus exists only to be received, described, and assimilated through the procedures of criticism” (p.13). In A Theory of Literary Production, however, reading is a form of production; it produces meanings.

Alison Light, “Returning to Manderly”: romance fiction, female sexuality and class” (textbook)

They are seen as coercive and stereotyping narratives which invite the reader to identify with a passive heroine who only finds true happiness in submitting to a masterful male. Romance thus emerges as a form of oppressive ideology, which works to keep women in their socially and sexually subordinate place. I think we need critical discussions that are not afraid of the fact that literature is a source of pleasure, passion, and entertainment. A re-emphasis on the imaginative dimensions of literary discourse may then suggest ways in which romance, as much because of its contradictory effects as despite them, has something positive to offer its audience, as readers and as women readers.

Ken Warpole, “Reading by Numbers: contemporary publishing and popular fiction” (textbook)

The key ingredient in the success of popular literature is quantity, both in numbers of titles and numbers of sales. The market must continually be stimulated and satisfied. The market must continually be stimulated and satisfied. Economic literature is one of economies of scale and as such requires writers of enormous output…Modern popular fiction thus very easily attains sales figures far in excess of earlier record numbers, which suggests that the market is still expanding and that the book by no means exhausted its possbilities as a cultural form.

Leslie Fiedler, “Towards a definition of popular literature” (textbook)

Opens with a dscussion of the basis on which ‘popular’ texts are ‘denied the quasi-immortality bestowed by…critics on the “Classics”’. The distinctions, he argues, are spurious and he goes on, critics have been forced to play ridiculous sorting-out games: distinguishing “serious novelists” from “mere entertainers” and “best sellers” from “art novels”. What follows is Fiedlers historical explanation of the pressures underlying this impulse towards categorization.

Bob Dixon, “Catching them Young 2: political ideas in children’s fiction” (textbook)

His analysis locates the text firmly within the framework of dominant ideology—especially in respct of attitudes to race and class, and also to gender. For Dixon, Blyton’s work is “anti-social, if not anti-human and is more likely to stunt and warp young people than help them grow”

Tom Moylan, “Demand the Impossible: science fiction and the utopian imagination” (textbook)

The ‘work’ of utopian discourse by means of its social images, its visiting and guiding characters, and its deep ideological assertion is its response to history by way of neutralizing the historical contradictions that generate the text. Utopia is literally out of this world, a negation of reality.

Roger Bromley, “Natural Boundaries: the Social Function of Popular Fiction” (textbook)

Starting from the assumption that popular fiction is one mode of social communication whose re-presentations mar one way in which ideology becomes a material force in society, use has been made of Gramsci’s concept of ‘common sense’ (the ‘substrata of ideologies’?). The purpose of this is to discover theoretical bearings for the ways in which moral values and customs, and modes of perception, of the ruling bloc become the ‘mass-popular’ ways of seeing of those subordinated in the process of production.

Barbara Creed, “The Monstrous-Feminine: film, feminism and psycho- analysis” (textbook)

Creed (cited in Roberts 2000, p. 103) argues that “virtually all aspects of the mise-en-scene are designed to signify the female”, which, she continues, has led to the woman’s body signifying “the unknown, the terrifying, the monstrous”. Although Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) is the hero(ine) throughout the series, by the final instalment she becomes the alien, or at least its mother, investing her offspring with the ultimate physiological aspect of femininity – the womb.Creed (2000, p. 133) also codes it as a “toothed vagina”. If it is to be assigned feminine attributes, then it is indeed, as Creed (2000, p. 122) has coined it, the “monstrous-feminine”. According to Creed (2000, p. 133), the alien signifies “the monstrousness of woman’s desire to have the phallus”. There can be no denying this creature certainly has the phallus, and it is monstrous in its ability to use it in the most invasive and horrific manner. But Ripley, as well, has access to the phallus, and it is with this, in the form of a spear-gun, that she is finally able to destroy the alien.

Paul O’Flinn, “Production and Reproduction: the case of Frankenstein” (textbook)

There is no such thing as Frankenstein, thereare only Frankensteins , as the text is ceaselessly rewritten, reproduced, refilmed, and redisgned. The fact that many people call the monster Frankenstein and this confuse the pair betrays the extent of that restructuring…Frankenstein is a particularly good example of three of the major ways in which alteration and realignment of this sort happens: first, through the operations of criticism; second, as a function of the shift from one medium to another; and third, as a result of the unfolding of history itself. The operations of criticism on this text are at present more vigorous than usual.

Noel Carroll, “The Philosophy of Horror” (textbook)

Jackson’s statement of the repression hypothesis is something disconcerting. One way of reading her claim is that what she calls the culture’s unseen and unsaid—that which the culture’s categorization renders invisible, hidden, and so on—involves some denial, perhaps for ideological purposes, of reality. I shall take a look at…what might be called the ‘paradox of horror’. This paradox amounts to the question of how people can be attracted by what is repulsive. That is, the imagery of horror fiction seems to be necessarily repulsive and, yet, the genre has no lack of consumers. Moreover, it does not seem plausible to regard these consumers—given to the vast number of them—as abnormal or perverse in any way that does not beg the question. Nevertheless, they appear to seek that which, under certain descriptions, it would seem natural for them to avoid.

Robin Wood, “An Introduction to the Modern American Horror Film” (textbook)

Robin Wood (1997) describes horror as involving “a simple and obvious basic formula … normality is threatened by the Monster” where normality, the monster and the frequently ambivalent relationship between the two, are all variables.

Julia Kristeva, “Powers of Horror” (textbook)

Following Kristeva’s formulation of abjection in Powers of Horror – An Essay on Abjection, abjection can be seen as letting go of something we would still like to keep. In the case of blood, semen, hair and excrement/urine, we recognize these as once being a part of ourselves, thus these forms of the abject are taken out of our system while bits of them remain in our selves. When one encounters blood, excrement, etc. outside of the body, one is forced to confront what was once a part of oneself, but no longer is. Dismemberment compels the same kind of heightened reaction when one confronts the horror of detachment. A dismembered finger or limb is identified as belonging to one’s own body and is ‘missed’ while at the same time repulsive to the viewer for no longer being a part of the whole. Because humans frequently shed skin and blood etc. there is a higher tolerance to it and we are not as horrified as we would be in the case of dismemberment, yet most are not willing to engage with excrement or blood due to its detached nature. In a way, we exist in abjection: the process of creating our self (identity) is never-ending. The act of “selfing” (“identifying”) ourselves is the only common feature of all people.

Roland Barthes, “The Death of the Author” (textbook)

In his essay, Barthes criticizes the reader’s tendency to consider aspects of the author’s identity—his political views, historical context, religion, ethnicity, psychology, or other biographical or personal attributes—to distill meaning from his work. In this critical schematic, the experiences and biases of the author serve as its definitive “explanation.” For Barthes, this is a tidy, convenient method of reading and is sloppy and flawed: “To give a text an Author” and assign a single, corresponding interpretation to it “is to impose a limit on that text.” Readers must separate a literary work from its creator in order to liberate it from interpretive tyranny (a notion similar to Erich Auerbach’s discussion of narrative tyranny in Biblical parables), for each piece of writing contains multiple layers and meanings. In a famous quotation, Barthes draws an analogy between text and textiles, declaring that a “text is a tissue [or fabric] of quotations,” drawn from “innumerable centers of culture,” rather than from one, individual experience. The essential meaning of a work depends on the impressions of the reader, rather than the “passions” or “tastes” of the writer; “a text’s unity lies not in its origins,” or its creator, “but in its destination,” or its audience.

Walter Benjamin, “The Storyteller” (reading package)

The sweet excess here has often been quoted approvingly: ‘our common pattern’ is taken as the goal of storytelling; the ‘decline’ is therefore seen negatively. Presumably, with the loss of narrative goes the loss of community. More generally, any hint of narrative seduction is hailed as ‘a return to storytelling’; the promise of innocence. Benjamin, however, says that the decline is due not to the excessive knowingness of modern times but that ‘the epic side of truth – wisdom – is dying out’. This wisdom takes the form of ‘counsel’. It is a fact that an ‘orientation toward practical matters is characteristic of many born storytellers’. The current lack of counsel is due, he says, to the increasing incommunicability of experience. The loss of such wisdom rather works against the strain of high fantasy in most of the novels we’re told appeal to older traditions.

Vladimir Propp, “The Morphology of the Folktale” (reading package)

Vladimir Propp extended the Russian Formalist approach to the study of narrative structure. In the Formalist approach, sentence structures were broken down into analyzable elements, or morphemes, and Propp used this method by analogy to analyze Russian fairy tales. By breaking down a large number of Russian folk tales into their smallest narrative units, or narratemes, Propp was able to arrive at a typology of narrative structures. By analyzing character and action types, Propp concluded that there were 31 generic narratemes in the Russian folk tale. While not all were present, he found that all the tales he had analyzed displayed the functions in unvarying sequence.

Raymond Williams, “The Long Revolution” (reading package)

The “long revolution” of the title is a revolution in culture, which Raymond Williams sees as having unfolded alongside the democratic revolution and the industrial revolution. It followed on from Culture and Society, which was his first widely-read work.With this book Williams led the way in recognizing the importance of the growth of the popular press, the growth of standard English, and the growth of the reading public in English-speaking culture and in Western culture as a whole. In addition, Williams’ discussion of how culture is to be defined and analyzed has been of considerable importance in the development of cultural studies as an independent discipline.

Roger B. Rollin, “Against Evaluation: the role of the critic of popular culture” (textbook)

In truth, it is impossible to have no emotive reaction to an aesthetic stimulus..for better or for worse, popular art represents the triumph of a democratic aesthetic. We will enjoy and value those literary works from which we can achieve an exciting balance of fantasy and management of fantasy.

Q.D. Levis, “Fiction and the Reading Public” (textbook)

The best that the novel can do, it may be suggested, is not to offer a refuge from actual life but to help the reader to deal less inadequately with it; the novel can deepen, extend, and refine experience by allowing the reader to live at the expense of an unusually intelligent and sensitive mind, by giving him access to a finer code than his own.

Stuart Hall and Paddy Whannel, “The Popular Arts” (textbook)

Power is concentrated in a few hands, and methods of maintaining it had been refined by the techniques of manipulation…cultural products are mass produced to a formula that allows no place for creativity…people are not seen as participants in the society but as consumers of what others produce…

John Cawelti, “The Concept of Formula in the Popular Arts” (textbook)

All cultural products contain a mixture of two kinds of elements: convention and invention.

Theodore Adorno, “Culture Industry Reconsidered” (textbook)

The culture industry misuses its concern for the masses in order to duplicate, reinforce and strengthen their mentality, which it presumes is given and unchangeable.

Popular Narrative Readings is a post from: The Glaring Facts

Facebook is characterized by both image and text-based content. The form is a technological convergence of television, video, and music. This genre enoucrages user participation, giving users the opportunity to include among their updates the music, video, and images they upload to their profiles. The form can also be subject to a user’s specifications–allowing particular applications into their profiles and not others. This encourages other application designers to produce devices that individuals can use into their profiles. In this way, the structure of facebook is unique to that user and is constantly subjected to customizations suited to benefit that particular user.  Facebook has adopted the concept of a “note”, which is a section of a user’s profile that gives the user the ability to create content. This note-taking oftentimes resembles the modern-day mode of life-writing, highly similar to diaries and journals. The form also encourages group involvement on certain issues that may be significant to them. In this way, group pages have a similar structure to that of a public forum. Furthermore, the form constantly goes under constant update by its Facebook staff and is also subject to certain changes that may benefit users.

The linguistic style is highly informal. Individuals write to each other as though they were texting messages to each other by cellphone. This writing style is mostly shorthand, as this is much more convenient to its users. Essentially, colloquial language is a Facebook norm. A section of an individual’s profile called the “wall” encourages brief, sporadic conversations between users.

The themes that are enveloping Facebook today are highly akin to the desires of humankind. Facebook is largely successful because it recognizes that human affiliation and maintaining/creating friendships are central to the development of a user. These themes are reproduced in many ways: 1) notes, 2) status updates, 3) group pages, and 4) images and videos. An important theme is the fact that group pages produce this unification for a cause mentality. This mentality is an important theme because it pronounces Facebook as a utilitarian service with ethereal human value–this is why Facebook has become so successful.

As a genre, Facebook has certain certain content matter that is highly significant to a user’s needs. Firstly, the interface is immensely personal. This genre produces a platform that individuals can organize their individuality based on certain applications, join particular group pages, and interact with other friends in order to maintain close social networks. Although it is immensely personal, any user (of course within an individual’s network) may be able to view seemingly priviate details of another user’s life. This way users are able to fully understand and know each other (although it may create paranoia).

What is Facebook? is a post from: The Glaring Facts

The idea of “fan” arose from John Fiske’s (1989) analysis of popular culture containing polysemic text. Polysemic literally means ‘many-signed’, an image in which there are several possible meanings depending on the ways in which its constituent signs are read. This polysemic analysis of text, Fiske (1989) allowed for “fans to construct alternative readings and interpretations of such texts, thus distinguishing them from ‘normal’ audiences” (12). The term “fan” is oftentimes associated with someone who has an intense, occasionally overwhelming liking of a person, group of persons, work of art, idea, or trend.

Fiske (1989) notes that fashion can be considered a discourse of resistance against the dominant perspectives outlined in mainstream popular culture. Fans who ally themselves within their counterparts have adopted a different outlook on life, or a lifestyle that differs from the suburbanized constructs of dominant lifestyles. Fiske (1989) notes that fandom is a concept that utilizes finite resources from the dominate culture and makes a gradual attempt to refuse that power. Fiske analyzes fan culture through a Marxist approach arguing that it can be characterized as a resistance movement against the dominant ideologies of the bourgeoisie. Through this struggle against the dominant characteristics of the bourgeoisie, fandom manifests its growth from the various members who attach polysemic varieties of meanings and decode newer concepts and pleasures from the content. This polysemic gathering of information can be seen through the various artifacts members carry as a testament to their adherence to the codes of a fan subculture. Fiske characterizes this struggle as warfare through semiotics. The various ways in which a fan can apply their principles of semiotics differ from that of the dominant ideologies that attempt to repress it; hence, the ideas of class structures are brought into awareness by Fiske.

Fan theory also illustrates the genderization of specific modes of entertainment (i.e. sports). Sociological gendering of leisure in industrial societies have inflicted a distinct analysis of fandom. Arguably, the union of gender differences can be seen through the increase in fan base regarding sport activities. Genderization of fandom, theoreticians believe, implicates a different understanding of what a fan really is. Portrayals of fans holding specific gender constructs further emphasizes the secularization of fans in specific groups. Agreeably

Fandom, then, cannot be described as a form of consumption that lends itself to either gender position. Instead, the different socio-historic development and female fan cultures, the variations in chosen fan texts, and the usage of different media are indicators of the different power positions articulated in fandom (16)

Due in part because of the differences in the histories between the sexes, the comparative differences between how men enjoy fandom and how women enjoy fandom is articulated in a mild difference. These differences, as examined by Dell (1998) show that while women are expected to adhere to their particular roles, they can still watch televised screenings of wrestlers two or three times a week and still hold their roles, although in a more sexualized arousal (105). In this regard, women can also be a fan of wrestling and thereby reinforcing Fiske’s idea that fandom is a subversion of the set principles of the popular culture industry; it is therefore a defiance over male-dominated genres.

Theories regarding fandom also include the subversion of hegemonic practices between two different fan bases with the same basic interest. For example, a Trekky encounters another Trekky and there is a disagreement with the pronunciations of Romulus dialogue. The expressed disagreement comes from the fact that these two Trekkies come from different fan bases and that their hegemonic subjectivities do not fully incline to the global understanding of Romulan.

Understanding theories about the formation of fandom in contemporary is a critical component to popular culture because of the designated harsh inferences given to the term “fan” and the denotations of “fandom.” From this derived understanding, one can see that the formation of fandom may very well be an area one can access to develop an inclination or obsession, although it might not be for the bad.

Fan, Fan Theory and Contemporary Culture is a post from: The Glaring Facts

• Fandom doesn’t always apply to the geographical area
  • Invariably means a description of age
  • Not specifically talking about a collective appreciation of followings or forms, if we’re talking about subculture, we’re talking about the groove. We’re looking at the ways the groove articulate, formulate, and understand the object or fashion.
  • The communal concept of fandom is an idiosyncratic concept.
  • These things of course are relative to the sorts of objects of fandom (i.e. sports), a collective sense of being a sports fan.
  • More individualistic concepts are collections (record, watches)
  • Conceptualized in academics.
  • First person to bring it to an attention to academics is John Fiske.
• John Fiske (1989)
  • Fandom = resistance to dominant social order
  • Meaning of popular culture is polysemic (many readings read upon the same text), that is, popular texts can be read and understood in different ways by fans.
  • Fans construct their own meanings from particular texts
  • Aesthetic function cannot be determined by royal commodity.
  • What happens is meaning of values are caught on things by individuals according to their various influences in their everyday lives.
  • Textual conventions
• According to de Certeau:
  • Contemporary everyday life – a site of struggle – disempowered individuals subvert the meaning of products and symbols imposed on them by industrial capitalism.
  • According to Fiske – this achieved through what he calls “semiotic guerrilla warfare”
  • Semiotics – series of meanings embedded to a product, text or image.
• Fandom is:
  • Collective support and/or admiration for –
    • A film/TV personality
    • A musician/singer/band
    • A sports personality/team
  • A collective celebration of mutual taste/preference in –
    • Film/TV genre
    • Music
    • Sports activities/team
  • A ritual gathering (physical or virtual)

Subculture and Fandom is a post from: The Glaring Facts