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Post by Vorchia on Jun 18, 2005 16:00:57 GMT -5
(I haven't tried this in a while but here's my starting attempt! ) It was midday in the great city of Sauropolis, a sea of white stone reflecting the warm sunlight, the occasional golden statue sparkling like a star. Famous for its architecture and the capital of art on Dinotopia like Waterfall City was the capital of knowledge. The buildings mostly Roman and Greek in style, lavishly decorated with statues, fresco’s and mosaics depicting history, myth and fantasy from all around the globe. Thousands of years would leave a mark on the decorations of any building, especially in a warm and moist climate hence why the city had many devoted artists to do the upkeep and if necessary reconstructions that allowed the city’s prized buildings to look like the city was young, like the cement had only dried yesterday, a frozen moment of eternal youth and beauty and a golden age to last eternity. Sauropolis however, is also the place of celebration and feasts where things sometimes ran slightly out of control. Like, floor mosaics are made to be trod on, by humans, well made floor moisaics on a stone floor could take much more then that. However, not all floor mosaics could take a large sauropod’s pose dancing performance. This included the ancient mosaic of colored glass and ceramic pieces depicting life in Sauropolis as it was in the time of the great empires. The mosaic had suffered a crack which had widened and lengthened untill it had cracked over a length of 20 feet running under a marble statue of Oghtar as it went. The floor here wasn’t made to be dancefloor to begin with and in all honesty none had intended to use it as such, it wasn’t smooth enough to dance well on anyway but thats quite besides the point. A renovation was in order. However upon the removal of the statue the moisaic grew brand new cracks in every direction, like a star with its center at the statue. In the cracks one could see there was something under the mosaic, a second floor under the cracked one, with hyroglyphs and symbols older then the mosaic and fresco’s of the building that was on top of it.
Meanwhile in Bonabba, the latest mid-city archeology and problems of the past didn’t draw much attention as Bonabba with its famous vertebrate bridge is the gateway to the Rainy Basin and always the link between civilisation and well, civilisation as those living in the Basin didn’t consider themselves uncivil and of course neither did those outside, making Bonabba the link between civilisation and civilisation with all the diplomatic privileges that come with that. One of these great diplomatic privileges was the organisation of safe and efficient passage of caravans, peacekeeping with many different tribes and clans of a great variety of sentienent species from the Basin as well as offering help and assistance whenever needed. Bonabba for all that it was only a small town was never dull. The most recent problem in the small town however had nothing to do with the diplomatic contacts or with the caravans (yet) and started with an interesting development at the hatchery. Despite the best care given to all the eggs, an unusual number of them never hatched.
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Post by Christopher on Jun 18, 2005 18:01:42 GMT -5
A lone man stared at the small town for a while, before finally deciding to stay for a while. Prehaps he could find an inn, and actually sleep in a bed tonight. The young man appeared to be in his late teens, and stood at six feet tall. He had curly red hair, which he kept covered by an old kepi cap. Despite the usual heat, he usually wore a great coat, which extended down to his knees. He hadn't been on Dinotopia long, and only understood a few phrases in the local languages.
He wandered around town, looking for a place to stay. He stuck out, and it was obvious to some that he was not from around Bonabba, and to the others it was obvious he was a dolphinback.
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Stouthorn
Junior Scholar
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Posts: 341
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Post by Stouthorn on Jun 20, 2005 9:33:36 GMT -5
Stouthorn's head perked up when the old protoceratops ambled into the room to tell him of the discovery. He had been napping on his rest couch, enjoying the day's breeze by his window, when the little ceratopsian walked through the door -- he never knocked -- to let him know what had happened. Still groggy, the Triceratops only caught bits of it coherently: pose-dance...floor-mosaic...crack...hidden chamber...
But it was enough to rouse the sleepy dinosaur, and, with a grunt, he rose and shuffled out of his quarters, the little old protoceratops shuffling before him, filling him in on the details.
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Post by Christopher on Jun 20, 2005 20:24:27 GMT -5
The young soldier was soon finished exploring the small town of Bonabba, and his feet were killing him from walking all day. As a consequence, he soon found a tree, and sat down in its shade. He reached into his coat, and produced a wooden canteen, from which he took a deep drink, before re-capping it, and placing it on the ground next to him.
Soon, he grew bored of sitting, and reached back into his coat. This time, he removed his fife, and began playing a lively dance tune from his home. The vivacious melody carried far into the village of Bonabba.
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Stouthorn
Junior Scholar
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Posts: 341
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Post by Stouthorn on Jun 22, 2005 9:25:26 GMT -5
Stouthorn could barely believe what he was seeing. The floor was rent, exposing a vast chamber beneath. A few humans and small saurians were inside, chattering excitedly. Stouthorn could make out none of it. He turned to a stenonychosaurus standing beside him -- apparently he was in charge of the excavation, and he had welcomed Stouthorn warmly. He was in need of Stouthorn's archaeological expertise.
"What is this, exactly?" the Triceratops asked. The old protoceratops who had awoken him chattered away in a saurian tongue, and the stenonychosaurus nodded, replied. The protoceratops shot back the answer even as the small carnivore was finishing his words.
"It appears to be a secret chamber," came the reply, "Very old. The inside is completely unadorned except for..." the protoceratops trailed off, turned back to the stenonychosaurus, and squawked something inquisitvely. After recieving a confirmation, the translator continued, "...except for...something that no one can seem to identify. Something ancient. Something...powerful."
"I'm sorry," Stouthorn huffed, "I do not specialize in ancient Pelledrinian artifacts."
The protoceratops relayed Stouthorn's response. The stenonychosaurus paused cocked his head, looked at the protoceratops, then at the larger dinosaur, then back at the protoceratops. The old translator brought back his reply. "Come with us."
***
A jerry rigged elevator served to lower the large ceratopsian into the hole. He could feel a pulsing in the air that rattled his ribs and pressed down on his ears, like a sauropod throat-song. When he reached the ground, he stepped off the elevator and followed the lead archaeologist's lead. They reached a door with an ancient enscription etched into it: "Here lies our victory." It was written in ancient Pelledrinian -- an older form of the footprint alphabet, and a language men no longer spoke. The door opened easily enough, though that seemed to be more because the excavators had made sure of that rather than any fault of the ancients.
Within the room stood an object, a thing as large as Stouthorn. It was not Pelledrinian. It was a long cylinder, metallic, no doubt concealing carefully engineered machinery. A sunstone cradle adorned the side, the only blemish on the otherwise smooth metal casing.
"Well," Stouthorn grunted, "you brought the right saurian. You were right to assume that if I didn't know what it was no one would. Trouble is, I have no idea what it is."
The humans frowned.
Stouthorn, on the other hand, turned and walked back to the elevator.
"Where are you going?" The protoceratops questioned, chasing after him, taking three steps for each of Stouthorn's strides.
"There may be hope to find out the identity of our mysterious artifact."
"So where are you going?" The translator asked again.
"Bonabba."
"Who in Bonabba would know what that thing is?"
"No one," Stouthorn replied, stopping his walk and swinging his massive head around to speak to the protoceratops, "but Bonabba is the gateway to the Basin." And with that he began to walk again.
The protoceratops groaned, nearly fainted, but ran after Stouthorn anyway.
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Post by Christopher on Jun 22, 2005 10:55:37 GMT -5
The young soldier had finished his tune, along with many others, and it was soon time he moved on. Though the town was small, there was plenty of places to see, and he had yet to see them all.
The young man reached down, and picked up his canteen. He took another swig of water, which had extra flavor thanks to the fruitwood the canteen was made of. The canteen was then corked, and the strap was put around the soldier's head where it came to rest on his shoulder.
After picking himself up from the ground, the young man began to head for a lovely looking garden he had noticed earlier.
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Post by Vorchia on Jun 22, 2005 14:33:54 GMT -5
Back in Bonnabba Vorchia was just done with her egg-watching shift at the hatchery. Watching the eggs was usually being put off to young humans who took pride in having such an important task as to watch the eggs for signs of cracking. However now that the hatching rates had dropped it had changed, putting older hatchery workers on egg-watch untill the cause had been discovered. This was also to avoid the children getting the blame for the low hatching rates at Bonabba hatchery. Vorchia was quite sleepy from having to sit still in a warm and humid room, even when she had enough scrolls to read. Hearing some music from outside was helping a little, for staying awake and for staying in a good mood. Still no-one knew what was wrong with the eggs, eggshell quality hadn’t changed visibly and the parents of the eggs had no health problems that Trilobur tea couldn’t help, did they? There’d been nothing more serious then common colds, which were easily cured. The embryonic development looked good and healthy whenever the eggs were being held to a light, untill suddenly, development would cease. Upon opening the eggs, no anomaly was found. Communications through the signalling crystals with other hatcheries and Waterfall city hadn’t had any result so far. Communications where always a bit slow as the only quick way of communication was the transmitter sustone, of which there was only one in the town. It was being used as transmitter and receiver to simultaneously send, pass on and receive messages. Hence communications through the signalling crystal were no faster then messagepterosaurs. Vorchia wondered where the cheery music had come from as she wandered into the famous Bonabba gardens. Downwind from Bonabba, beyond the gardens with its fruits and flowers, some travellers were salting and drying fish for the baskets of next week’s Rainy Basin caravan.
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Post by Christopher on Jun 22, 2005 14:55:32 GMT -5
The young officer whistled more lively tunes to himself as he wandered around the garden and marvelled at the stunning flowers. Occasionally, he would stop to closer examine some astonishing plants, which he had never seen before, but mostly he would take a quick look and walk on. He paused from his site seeing, to fill his canteen in a fountain. And again, to spy on some people in the distance, through his spyglass, a habit he had picked up during the war.
Once he had finished looking at all the wonderful plants that were in this amazing garden, the young man found another tree to sit under. He removed his gray kepi cap from his head, and wiped the sweat from his brow, before putting it back on. Thinking that he was alone, once again, he pulled out his fife, and resumed playing it.
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Stouthorn
Junior Scholar
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Post by Stouthorn on Jun 22, 2005 15:05:06 GMT -5
The road to Bonabba was long. Off to the North, the Basin was often visible. It would be so simple to just walk north...but Stouthorn realized that it would be foolish to enter alone -- just he and the protoceratops, that is -- and off the established, well trodden paths, a realization that the protoceratops was grateful for -- the later they went into the Basin is better.
Hopefully in Bonabba they could find a caravan, or some folks willing to head out, be they concerned citizens or simply thrill seekers. Maybe they would even have a nice suit of armor for him...and the old translator too, of course...yes, that would be nice, to relive his younger days and prove he could still hold off a tyrannosaur with the best of them.
He just hoped they didn't run into any.
Stouthorn chuckled to himself and resumed his walk.
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Post by nobledreamhome on Jun 22, 2005 17:01:11 GMT -5
Noble ran quickly over the rough terrain, heading roughly north-west. She had received the message about the eggs, but her small isolated hatchery inisde the Rainy Basin currently did not have any eggs, just a couple of small Megalosaurus younglings that had hatched two years ago.
But that was it. Now she hurried on her way to check out this problem at the Bonabba hatchery. She didn't think she would know what was causing it; she'd never heard of anything like this happening before. That fact worried her; most dinosaurs only laid one egg in their lifetime. If this continued to happen and was widespread to all of the hatcheries and no one found a cure, how long would it be before the saurian population died out and eventually became extinct?
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Stouthorn
Junior Scholar
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Post by Stouthorn on Jun 23, 2005 18:07:20 GMT -5
Two days ago the two saurians had walked right past the security of Waterfall City, much to the chagrin of the Protoceratops. They had stopped in Bumford for more supplies, and pressed on. Now, they were nearing Naranda, having heard rumors in Gundagai of problems at the hatcheries across the island.
It just so happened Bonabba -- their destination -- had one of the most exalted hatcheries on the island.
The waves of coincidence and fate danced before Stouthorn's eyes, and he couldn't help having a very bad feeling about all this.
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Post by Vorchia on Jun 24, 2005 0:53:47 GMT -5
That day news had reached Bonabba through messagepterosaur about the latest Sauropolis archeology. Bonabba wasn’t as old a settlement as Sauropolis hence why the total absense of artifacts from the empires. The entrance to the Basin hadn’t always been right there, the Basin hadn’t always been locked off from the rest of the Island either. It hadn’t been untill after the sinking of Poseidos and teh downfall of the empires, when the carnosaurs had been appointed the task of guarding the entrances of the World Beneath, that the Rainy Basin had been sealed off with only one official entrance. This didn’t mean there weren’t other ways to get in and out of the Rainy basin as every Basin dweller knew but officially, it was just Bonabba. Being near the Rainy Basin meant a nice hot soaking humid climate, which was usually perfect for eggs, and a little less perfect for just about everything else. Vorchia knew they might get visitors from other hatcheries as well as some historician from Sauropolis who thought the answers to the great city’s latest secrets, might well be in Bonabba or the Basin. It was more likely they were to be found somewhere in a dusty corner of the great library in Waterfall City but of course it was understandable a trip to the Basin could prove just a little more adventorous then a literature excavation in rooms and rooms of ancient scrolls at the library. Vorchia wasn’t sure it if it was a good idea to have people from other hatcheries come over, what if the problem spread? No eggs had hatched that week except for two Triceratops and they weren’t very strong hatchlings, small and a low weight. A week before the problems started a small group of residents of Raptor Town had passed the bridge as they were on the way to the Northern Plains for a vacation. It had been suggested they had brough some virus from the Basin. Then it’d been suggested to haul up the bridge and leave it up untill either possibility of it being an egg disease from the Basin had been ruled out or another cause had been found. The suggestion had been honed away, peace between Rainy Basin and Civilisation itself would be put at risk through such an action. It’d bring up troubles that had been buried for millenia, ever since Bonabba was first founded and go straight against the reasons WHY Bonabba had been founded, as a portal. Still with next to no eggs hatching there’d been questions about the quality of the hatchery as well as angry and disappointed parents. Another thing was that Bonabba hatchery sometimes did take eggs from Basin residents. Sometimes it even got the honor of taking care of eggs of the leaders of main clans. If any such would fail to hatch, it’d be taken very seriously... It wasn’t just humidity that made made for a less then good atmosphere at the inn that night. The inn was the major meeting place of the village, located in a spacious pod house. Vorchia looked around for any new faces.
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Post by nobledreamhome on Jun 24, 2005 1:49:29 GMT -5
Noble came to the vertebral drawbridge connecting basin to bonabba. Across the deep, seeming endless chasm. Noble did not like heights and was glad she was small for her species, fearing if she were any taller she wouldn't be able to walk for fear of the length from her head to the ground. But, as it were, she was just fine with her current height. Of course, she knew of other saurians who had stranger fears. For instance, a recent friend she had come to know as Vira, was absolutely terrified of spiders. It was a pity, really, because spiders seemed to come bigger in the basin. Especially those big hairy ones. Noble had squished a few when she had been in Vira's clan. The poor hybrid had nearly died at the sound (really, fearing spiders seemed so...human). Coming back to the present, Noble noticed that the bridge was not being let down. "Hey!" Noble shouted in the basic human tongue. "Hey, I eessa bwend! Grr...fuh-wennn-duh!" Noble said, trying to pronounce the human words. "Poot buwidgrrre down pleeease!" Noble waved her staff, which was adorned with feathers, shells and teeth she had found lying around. "Fuh-wend-uh! I eessa fuh-wen-duh!" It was hard for Noble to pronounce f-sounds as her 'lips' didn't curl around her teeth properly and it was even more impossible for her to pronounce t's (which came out as d's) r's and o's and any words with g's in them came out as growls. And she didn't even want to get started about the 'th' sounds. She had tried them once and bit her tongue; how the humans could do that without biting their tongue's she didn't understand. "I ees hewe abuud da eggrrr puh-wumblem! Da eeeeeggggrrrr puh-wumblem!" Noble sighed; she did not like speaking the human tongue and wished once again for the translator friend she'd had a few years ago before he had died of old age. Noble sniffed at the memory. Waving her staff again, Noble growled. Finally, the person across the chasm seemed to understand what she was saying. Noble sighed in relief and ran across the vertebral bridge without looking down. "Dank yuh! I eess wewy appweesiadive!" Noble said and the guy looked at her in surprise and then shook his head with a smile as she passed.
Noble's first thought was to head straight to the hatchery, but on her way there she passed by an inn and figured it wouldn't hurt to have a little rest as she had been running for quite a while. After all, the hatchery wasn't going anywhere.
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aric
demi-admin
I drink your milkshake!
Posts: 989
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Post by aric on Jun 24, 2005 2:27:29 GMT -5
DJ lounged on a papasan chair. Its ovoid shape was perfect for curling up and reading a big fat book. The chair itself sat near a window, where the light of the day shone through. The light lent an aura to the interior wood. The curved tan walls of the Bonabban pod house basked in golden radiance. DJ flipped through the book trying to read. However, the day was muggy and someone was playing a high-pitched wind instrument whose piping weaved through the air and distracted him.
He shut the book and sighed. He considered opening it again, but his hands wouldn’t budge the leather covers. He put the book on an adjacent stand and stood up to stretch his legs.
It was typical of DJ’s behavior. He was easily distracted and intellectually lazy. It was a wonder he had made it through his undergraduate studies at Miskatonic University. It was an even bigger shock to his friends that he started working towards a Master’s Degree. In intellectual history, no less. For the first three years of his studies, he wandered from subject to subject. At first, he had found interest in classical philosophy. Then he shifted to natural history. He was caught up in the new theory of natural selection proposed by Charles Darwin. The Classics interrupted this line of thought. He actually thought ancient Greek and Roman history was appealing. He finally settled on American history when his advisors pushed him to make a decision. He graduated, edging above mediocrity and achieving his bachelor’s degree along with a few hundred other students.
He took a sabbatical midway through his Master’s studies. His parents and friends thought that a cruise to the Orient would be a great way of opening up his mind to the world.
DJ snorted. He never got to see the rest of the world. However, he did see things most humans would never experience.
At the end of the day, he liked being in Dinotopia. His uncoordinated wanderings in academia allowed him to pick up information that came useful here. The reason he was in Bonabba now was to set up a reciprocating pump that he himself suggested to nourish the Garden of Hope and the town. Being the lethargic man that he was, it wasn’t something he looked forward to, but it was a necessity. He had to make himself useful here. The people were just so earnest, it was almost criminal to take advantage of their generosity without contributing anything in return.
He particularly liked this project since he was rather fond of the Garden. It was the only structure in the entire town that was recognizably Western. Not that he disliked the pod houses. They were interesting in their own way.
Not able to read further and growing restless, he soon got up and left the small-ish pod house he was assigned to by the village elders.
The whistling of what seemed to be a fife wafted ethereally through the air. The tune sounded familiar. The instrument it came from sounded familiar as well. It did sounded awefully like a fife.
DJ’s face reddened with anger at the thought. He associated the fife with the recent War in America. He lost relatives and friends in that bloody conflict. Being from a Massachusetts patrician family, they were all militant abolitionists. DJ smiled, a tight wolfish smile, at the thought of the South plunged into flames, it’s cities turned into rubble. The price of slavery. A price paid for by both sides in bloodshed and suffering.
But that was behind him, now. He was in a better place. He decided to go to the Garden of Hope. It always lifted his spirits. The Garden was even more important now that disturbing news of barren eggs drifted from the hatcheries. He had suggested that the saurians might have contracted some sort of contagion from their current water supplies. Another reason why the reciprocal pump was being built for Bonabba. He wasn’t certain, though. He had merely put it out there as an incentive to give him and the denizens of this town some work. He didn’t think the Bonabbans took it that seriously either, though it was better to be safe than sorry.
DJ sighed again. He skipped, walking faster to the Garden of Hope. Then he heard the fife start up again. His steps faltered when he heard the noise again. He shook his head. He thought he was being silly. Why would he let the fife bother him so much? The player actually sounded like he knew what he was doing. It wouldn’t hurt to drop by. What could possibly happen?
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Post by Christopher on Jun 24, 2005 10:54:08 GMT -5
As the sun began to set, the fife music stopped. It was time for the confederate soldier to leave, and go to the inn. Once he was sure he had left nothing behind, he stood up, and began walking for the exit to the garden. Upon turning a blind corner, he accidently bumped into another person. Upon recovering from the impact, the young man straightend up, and looked at the one he had ran into.
"Pardon me, I didn't see you there." he appologized in clear English, with only a slight hint of a southern accent
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