Once upon a time there was a young glitchen living in the land of Ur. This was not just any normal glitchen. This glitchen was special. For this glitchen could . . .
"Excuse me mr. wood street vendor," the young glitchen said to the oak skinned floating ball with what the young glitchen felt was an overly stuffed gullet of merchandise. "Do you happen to have any blue butterfly wings in there that you'd be willing to sell?"
The wooden vendor harrumphed and lifted his chin in disgust. "Do I look like I go around ripping the wings off butterflies? By the great gods young lady! You need to be gentle with your butterflies. Treat them with care. Rub oils and lotion into them. You'll never get any milk by ripping them apart!"
The little glitchen turned to leave, head hanging in defeat.
"Where do you think you are going?" Grumbled the oaky, sour vendor, "Of course I have blue wings to sell. Don't just walk away when I'm talking to you. What is your name?"
"What is my name?" the shimmering blue glitchen thought.
After her sudden appearance on a street in Groddle Forest, she hadn't thought about names, let alone having one of her own. She stood there, blinking and blinking while considering this.
The street vendor bobbed with apparent annoyance as the little glitchen finally and resolutely declared "my name is Flipa Fly".
The street vendor considered small Flipa's predicament. He remembered a time when he too yearned to fly.
Selling her the butterfly wings alone wouldn't be enough to grant her the ability to soar. There was more to flight than that!
" Flipa," the street vendor whispered seriously. "If you truly want to fly you'll have to go on one heck of a quest. What do you say?"
"I'll do anything," she implored. "I was born to fly!"
The vendor looked her in the eye and saw a fiery determination; one he hadn't seen since the first Glitch had roamed the lands of Ur. Suddenly he found himself reminiscing over their first encounter. She'd just been imagined.
"You there," she called. "What's happened?"
"I'm not sure I understand your question."
"What has happened?" she repeated. "I was not, and suddenly I just... am."
"Why, you've been imagined dear."
"By whom?" she inquired.
"One of the eleven Giants," he said. "Humbaba most likely."
"Humbaba..." she turned the word over in her mouth. "What an odd name."
"Don't let the Giants catch you talking like that or they might just--"
He was ripped from his memory by a sharp voice in his ear canal.
"The wings," she insisted. "where do I go for the wings?"
"Gah!" He jolted violently out of his flashback. "My apologies young one, I tend to zone out of reality. I fear I'll soon be forgotten. But enough of that, back to the task at hand. You'll need the following to complete your quest..."
Sadly, her quest remained incomplete as nobody felt the need to define the next chapter of her being. She existed only in the minds of others, so when forgotten, she vanished. She was unimagined and what once was, was not.
Until...one day..an intrepid band of cockeyed optimists refused to let the de-imaginators win. And thus, the Eleven Giants reawakened, and imagined another world (startlingly similar to the old one) with a little Glitchen named Flipa Fly talking with a cranky street vendor who was having difficulty focusing his attention. "Wait! You can't fight the enemies of imagination unarmed! You need a focusing orb!" shouted---
Bumpity bump. Help! Someone must know who would shout like that (see above). Please identify them. My mind's a blank (restful but not entertaining for others). Thanq
-a portly wooden man from the opposite end of the street. "I can get you one, but for a price." Flipa had heard stories about the man they called the Rube, notorious for his extraordinary trading prowess. His powers of persuasion were unmatched. It was said he could sell metal to a sloth. He traveled all across the land of Ur, searching for a good bargain. Flipa knew she couldn't pass this opportunity up. She just had to be careful. "Name your price." She said, standing her ground.
--
It was all a blur. A handshake here, a transaction there. Flipa was no match for his exemplary trading techniques. He had even managed to get her piglet, Llmenskie, in exchange for a small, 12-sided die. Disappointed, she gave it a roll. It spun for quite a while before resting on a symbol for what she could only assume was some sort of bird. As she began to pick it up, she felt the ground beneath her begin to tremble. The plush, white clouds were ripped apart with golden talons as the sky turned a sickening gray. A pair of menacing, jet black wings blocked out the sun and a sharp shrill pierced her eardrums as she came face to face with something out of a nightmare...
A rook. And it was beyond imagining, beyond anything she had been told of the terrible bird- because it wasnt just that, a bird. It was something out of a terrorizing hallucination, the screams of dying Glitchen caught in its cry and its skeletal figure composed of violet, almost wet feathers- as though they had been drowned in suffocating ink. Whipping out a music block #3, she lobbed it at the birds head and made a break for the nearest exit, tripping up the rube as she ran.
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The wooden vendor harrumphed and lifted his chin in disgust. "Do I look like I go around ripping the wings off butterflies? By the great gods young lady! You need to be gentle with your butterflies. Treat them with care. Rub oils and lotion into them. You'll never get any milk by ripping them apart!"
The little glitchen turned to leave, head hanging in defeat.
"Where do you think you are going?" Grumbled the oaky, sour vendor, "Of course I have blue wings to sell. Don't just walk away when I'm talking to you. What is your name?"
After her sudden appearance on a street in Groddle Forest, she hadn't thought about names, let alone having one of her own. She stood there, blinking and blinking while considering this.
The street vendor bobbed with apparent annoyance as the little glitchen finally and resolutely declared "my name is Flipa Fly".
The street vendor considered small Flipa's predicament. He remembered a time when he too yearned to fly.
Selling her the butterfly wings alone wouldn't be enough to grant her the ability to soar. There was more to flight than that!
" Flipa," the street vendor whispered seriously. "If you truly want to fly you'll have to go on one heck of a quest. What do you say?"
The vendor looked her in the eye and saw a fiery determination; one he hadn't seen since the first Glitch had roamed the lands of Ur. Suddenly he found himself reminiscing over their first encounter. She'd just been imagined.
"You there," she called. "What's happened?"
"I'm not sure I understand your question."
"What has happened?" she repeated. "I was not, and suddenly I just... am."
"Why, you've been imagined dear."
"By whom?" she inquired.
"One of the eleven Giants," he said. "Humbaba most likely."
"Humbaba..." she turned the word over in her mouth. "What an odd name."
"Don't let the Giants catch you talking like that or they might just--"
He was ripped from his memory by a sharp voice in his ear canal.
"The wings," she insisted. "where do I go for the wings?"
"Gah!" He jolted violently out of his flashback. "My apologies young one, I tend to zone out of reality.
I fear I'll soon be forgotten. But enough of that, back to the task at hand. You'll need the following to complete your quest..."
"I can get you one, but for a price."
Flipa had heard stories about the man they called the Rube, notorious for his extraordinary trading prowess. His powers of persuasion were unmatched. It was said he could sell metal to a sloth. He traveled all across the land of Ur, searching for a good bargain. Flipa knew she couldn't pass this opportunity up. She just had to be careful.
"Name your price." She said, standing her ground.
--
It was all a blur.
A handshake here, a transaction there.
Flipa was no match for his exemplary trading techniques.
He had even managed to get her piglet, Llmenskie, in exchange for a small, 12-sided die.
Disappointed, she gave it a roll.
It spun for quite a while before resting on a symbol for what she could only assume was some sort of bird.
As she began to pick it up, she felt the ground beneath her begin to tremble.
The plush, white clouds were ripped apart with golden talons as the sky turned a sickening gray.
A pair of menacing, jet black wings blocked out the sun and a sharp shrill pierced her eardrums as she came face to face with something out of a nightmare...
And it was beyond imagining, beyond anything she had been told of the terrible bird- because it wasnt just that, a bird.
It was something out of a terrorizing hallucination, the screams of dying Glitchen caught in its cry and its skeletal figure composed of violet, almost wet feathers- as though they had been drowned in suffocating ink.
Whipping out a music block #3, she lobbed it at the birds head and made a break for the nearest exit, tripping up the rube as she ran.