Mr. Dove and the Pipes of Creation

[davedove]

I have just finished my latest tale of the Retrieval Team and decided it is time for a bit of a rest. I even finished that tale a bit quicker than I wanted because I was getting burned out on the Team.

However, I do still have ideas floating around in my head, including a story I will begin soon. Please stay tuned for the new story, which I have named in the title. It will still involve Mr. Dove, but not the rest of the team (although they may be mentioned). Plus, this story is going in a completely different direction than the others.

Be prepared; many of you will have a part in this story, either as a major character, a cameo appearance, or something in between. I will most likely use those members who are more active on the forum, but you never know who will slip in.

But don't worry, the forces of Globo-Fashion are still active and I am sure Mr. Dove and his team will be there to thwart them.

Now, if we can just find out what happened to Panache and the Saltire.

[Cynthia]

Looking forward to reading it!

[MacLowlife]

Jusst be ssssure you don't make anyone sssseeem odddddd or you know, menacing or anything... Unlesssssss they really are.

[davedove]

Opening Scene

I put my feet up on the footstool as I stretched out in the well-padded chair in the Library of the Great Golden Hall of X Marks the Scot. It had been a busy day and I was finally allowing myself a bit of leisurely reading. I opened the cover of the book to begin my escape into epic quests and tales of heroism.

Spasm approached, holding a tray with a single cup on it.

“I brought your cocoa Master David, with a splash of butterscotch schnapps like you requested,” he said to me.

“Thank you, Spasm,” I replied. I took the steaming cup from the tray and placed it on the small table next to me.

Spasm walked away and I took a small sip from the cup. Whatever else anyone might say about the old man, Spasm made an exceptional cup of cocoa.

I began my reading of the small town man who I knew would later become a hero in the story. However, I soon found myself unable to read due to the low humming noise that seemed to fill the room. After several failed attempts to continue the story, I closed the book in disgust and arose from the chair to seek out the source of the sound.

I found Arlen in the hallway. “What is that sound?” he asked as I approached.

“I don’t know,” I answered, “but it seems to be coming from the front of the building.”

We walked together towards the front hall, noticing that the sound grew louder and more distinct as we moved. It began to take on the sound of music.

Panache joined us as we walked into the entry hall. “Bagpipes?” he asked.

“That’s what it sounds like,” I said. “It seems to be coming from outside.”

The three of us opened the front door and stepped outside. Several people were gathered in the courtyard and all were looking north.

We also looked that direction to see what had captured everyone’s attention. In the northern sky was a line of dark clouds. Their rolling mass seemed to be drawing nearer as we watched. Lightning lit up the cloudbank at irregular intervals.

“What’s going on?” Arlen asked. “Is there a storm coming?”

“It’s a storm,” I answered, “but it’s not like any storm I’ve ever seen before.”

As we watched the bank of clouds drew closer. I noticed that the bank rose from the ground and went high into the sky. It also stretched as far as I could see in either direction. I noticed that the sound of bagpipes was reaching an almost unbearable level.

The clouds were almost to the mountain when lightning struck a tree in the courtyard.

“Everybody inside,” Panache ordered.

Jamie and I held the doors as everyone rushed inside to escape the strange storm. Rain and sleet began to assault us; wind made it hard to retain our footing.

Jamie pulled hard on his door to close it, but mine seemed to be stuck. As I moved outside to push, Arlen helped by pulling on the handle.

The door began to move and I rushed to get inside just as the full fury of the storm hit the Great Hall. Just as I crossed the threshold, I felt a jerking sensation, as if I were being torn in two. I gasped in pain as everything went black around me.

[davedove]

Jusst be ssssure you don't make anyone sssseeem odddddd or you know, menacing or anything... Unlesssssss they really are.

You'll all just have to wait and see. Waa haa haa haa!!! (evil laugh)

[unaspenser]

*gasps* You can't leave us hanging like that!

[Ancienne Alliance]

Bravo Monsieur !

Nice ouverture.


Best,

Robert

[davedove]

Scene 1

As I started to regain consciousness, the first thing to hit me was the smell. An odor assaulted my nose that seemed to be a combination of stale beer, greasy food, and that odd combination of cleanser mixed with spilled bodily fluids. In other words, it smelled like a cheap bar.

“He’s coming around,” I heard someone say.

I carefully opened my eyes and noticed immediately that I was no longer in the Great Hall. In fact, from my surroundings, I was nowhere near that structure. The building I was in could only be described as a seedy bar.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” the voice said to me.

I looked towards the source of the voice and found myself looking into the face of Spasm. But it wasn’t the Spasm I knew; this man seemed younger and more vital than the Spasm I knew.

“Where am I and how did I get here?” I asked.

“Well,” he replied, “to answer your first question, this is the Floating Vagabond, my bar. As to how you got here, it would probably be better if my other guests answered that question.”

As he helped me to my feet, I noticed the other people in the room for the first time. A small group of people was gathered around me. They all watched me with concern.

The group of eight people was as different as they could be; yet they all seemed eerily similar. One of them stepped forward who I recognized immediately.

“Ms. Pleater,” I asked her, “What’s going on here?”

She smiled sadly as she spoke. “You believe you know me, Mr. Dove, but in actuality we have never met before. I am a different version of your Ms. Pleater, from another plane of existence, just as all of my group are.”

I looked at the group again. It contained both men and women, wearing wildly different clothing. But as I looked, I could finally pinpoint the familiarity. Each of them had similar features, as if they were all from the same family.

“You’re saying you are each a different version of the Ms. Pleater from my world?” I asked. “You are all from different dimensions?”

The woman nodded.

“Did you bring me here?”

She nodded again.

“Why? What’s happening?”

She looked at the others and they nodded to her. “This may be difficult to explain and we don’t have much time,” she said. “Please, join us at the table so we may explain it to you.”

I walked with the Pleaters to the table and sat down with them. Spasm brought me a mug of drink and set it on the table.

“It began a long time ago,” Ms. Pleater began, “before history itself.”

[Tartan Shortbread Jock]

Hello Dave, keep the tales coming, they are most enjoyible.

[MacLowlife]

All I know is, don't trust the ones with the chirpy voices... and make sure you can see ALL of her hands.

Looking forward to a fun continuation from this auspicious beginning.