(no subject)
Approaching the thick rock and coral gates that seemed to be but a natural part of the cliff face, Trask the pirate captain turned to us and told us to wait. Letting slip his hunting octopus, we watched cayenne pepper colored thing dart towards the edge of land, drifting over the ground with ease, and come to a stop before a hunched over little man who was fishing. It hovered just beyond his reach, and then returned.
Trask nodded as it told him something, and we continued towards the gates. "They don't let people in, usually. Or ever, for that matter. You need to know exactly what flavor to present them with, and that changes regularly. No worries though."
He strode off into the forest to the right, and we entered the channel in the rock face that led to the gates. Calling out, we were greeted by the face of a hoary old man who looked down at us angrily from above, and yelled for us to go away. We asked to be allowed in, and he replied scornfully that unless we knew what the flavor was, we had not a chance in hell. At this point Trask approached, peeling a garlic clove, and showed it to the old man, who was shocked beyond belief. The two gates swung open, and we entered.
Within the compound was a small ship, landlocked and baroque. Trask, alone, approached, and sought a way in. It was the ship of his enemy, and he needed to enter in order to find out his plans. Circling the metal sides, he finally came to a part where he could leap up and grab onto the thin, corrugated metal bars that protected the bottle glass windows. This had always worked before, but this time the metal snapped away under his hand and he fell back. Again, and again he fell back, until the third time he managed to hold on and haul himself up.
Only to be greeted by an armed crew and the captain, who laugh at him for having fallen so easily into their ambush. He's put on a long, metal canoe and pushed off the boat onto a spiralling waterway that courses down and around the island all the way to the ocean below. Zooming down, around and around, he finally surged out into the ocean, and without a means to guide himself, floated away.
On a beach somewhere, we were all resting as night fell. Nick was preparing a barbeque, and many of us were watching this gorgeous blonde woman swim incredibly powerfully through the surf, her pace never flagging as she swam through the emerald waters. She went to far, and below her, a dark shape that swam through the rocky grottos spotted her and began to ascend rapidly - a vast shark.
Somehow everybody on the beach knew what was going on, despite the distance, and the crowd was galvanised. Some people jumped in the water and began swimming towards her, others grabbed their sniper guns and took position, ready to take crack shots at the shark. I went over to where Nick was, and asked when the food would be ready. He said soonish, and stretched out his leg and placed it on the metal siding of the barbeque, which I then accidentally shoved deep into the coals. Nick looked angril at me and then pulled his leg out slow, wiping away the cinders that had embedded them in his flesh. I felt really bad, and then he started to yell and had to have his leg wrapped up with some green leaves or something.
And there was another dream about being a huge hotel in which I ran across Rowan Atkinson (Mr Bean) sleeping in a small conferance room and then later got to watch him do a small standup routine followed by his joinging us for dinner. Fun.
Trask nodded as it told him something, and we continued towards the gates. "They don't let people in, usually. Or ever, for that matter. You need to know exactly what flavor to present them with, and that changes regularly. No worries though."
He strode off into the forest to the right, and we entered the channel in the rock face that led to the gates. Calling out, we were greeted by the face of a hoary old man who looked down at us angrily from above, and yelled for us to go away. We asked to be allowed in, and he replied scornfully that unless we knew what the flavor was, we had not a chance in hell. At this point Trask approached, peeling a garlic clove, and showed it to the old man, who was shocked beyond belief. The two gates swung open, and we entered.
Within the compound was a small ship, landlocked and baroque. Trask, alone, approached, and sought a way in. It was the ship of his enemy, and he needed to enter in order to find out his plans. Circling the metal sides, he finally came to a part where he could leap up and grab onto the thin, corrugated metal bars that protected the bottle glass windows. This had always worked before, but this time the metal snapped away under his hand and he fell back. Again, and again he fell back, until the third time he managed to hold on and haul himself up.
Only to be greeted by an armed crew and the captain, who laugh at him for having fallen so easily into their ambush. He's put on a long, metal canoe and pushed off the boat onto a spiralling waterway that courses down and around the island all the way to the ocean below. Zooming down, around and around, he finally surged out into the ocean, and without a means to guide himself, floated away.
On a beach somewhere, we were all resting as night fell. Nick was preparing a barbeque, and many of us were watching this gorgeous blonde woman swim incredibly powerfully through the surf, her pace never flagging as she swam through the emerald waters. She went to far, and below her, a dark shape that swam through the rocky grottos spotted her and began to ascend rapidly - a vast shark.
Somehow everybody on the beach knew what was going on, despite the distance, and the crowd was galvanised. Some people jumped in the water and began swimming towards her, others grabbed their sniper guns and took position, ready to take crack shots at the shark. I went over to where Nick was, and asked when the food would be ready. He said soonish, and stretched out his leg and placed it on the metal siding of the barbeque, which I then accidentally shoved deep into the coals. Nick looked angril at me and then pulled his leg out slow, wiping away the cinders that had embedded them in his flesh. I felt really bad, and then he started to yell and had to have his leg wrapped up with some green leaves or something.
And there was another dream about being a huge hotel in which I ran across Rowan Atkinson (Mr Bean) sleeping in a small conferance room and then later got to watch him do a small standup routine followed by his joinging us for dinner. Fun.