The Temple of Lore, Works of the Schola Options

[Black Hand]

This thread is for the stories of the members of Order of the Schola, for any questions you may have please click on the following link.

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=3495

ANYTHING that is not a story or poem or whatever should be posted on the link that was just provided. Thank you, not trying to be mean, just trying to keep our sacred temple clean. Now then, an explanation.

------------------------------------------------------------------

The Temple of Lore is a sacred sanctum of tomes, dreams, thoughts, abstracts, histories, stories, poems, and the written word.

It exists in the twilight, between reality and fantasy, it embraces all forms and images that attempt to define it. It is perception, and the perciever.

There exists an order of men, commonly known to the masses as the Writers Guild, more accurately called the Order of the Schola who have mastered this twilight abstract in the form of storytelling, they alone have the power to transcend to the Temple of Lore, and contibute and take from its threads of knowledge.

They exist amongst us as Journalists, Bards, Old Men sitting on a porch with a glass of lemonade recanting old experiences. If you ask nicely, and your lucky to find the chosen few, a Schola can breathe life into any illusion, any thought.

[darkynd]

What wonderful timing! The very instant I decide to join this illustrious order, I've just finished something which would fit nowhere else but in this thread.

*****

And to All a Good Night!

There is sort of a blank and empty room through the doorway directly before you. Sort of. Relative to the absolute black of the void stretching infinitely to all sides, looping back on itself eternally, and all the while managing to have zero space for you, that blank and empty room of slate gray concrete is a pulsating metropolis.

How absolutely fascinating, right? Stepping across the threshold, you transfer from immaterial reality to solid fantasy. You’re dreaming after all, and it’s not a particularly exciting one telling by the completely lackluster setting. The room is just a big cube; even the doorway you came through is gone, eliminating the very last detail besides your own body which could possibly be described as anything other than monotonous. But…

Well, there’s always a but, isn’t there? There’s always a big butt, someone might say in an exceedingly drear way, and then chortle afterwards. In any event, this but – or butt, if you enjoy the puerile – is not even so mildly interesting as I failed to make it sound. It’s just that your body, normally so, well, you-like, is now just as terribly drab as this intensely dull room is. You’re wearing gray clothing, amorphously cut; it would fit a man or woman equally well. Your chest is flat – no rippling muscles, no burgeoning melons (as some fatuous sex education teacher might say) and not even any undulating fat folds. Your gender is indeterminate. That would be interesting, if it weren’t for the fact that your genitalia is intact and normal – rather, your figure is just generally…blah. If it weren’t for your nether regions, an objective individual seeing you naked would be hard-pressed to pick a sex.

So, is this some kind of latent body-image issue you’re confronting here, in the most boring part of your brain? Because if so, please move it on over to a spot which could at least have the human decency to incorporate some vaguely snide jocks or lukewarmly picky cheerleaders. Please. Frankly, my patience is reaching the triple point. I will either evaporate into ether or freeze to a block from sheer inactivity soon. Oh, well, you didn’t think it was a detached nonentity narrating this charade of a dreamscape, did you? Or some figment of your perilously atrophied imagination? No, I am the liquid observer, seeping into every crevice to observe your deepest fantasies.

And if this is the extent of your fantasizing, you are a pathetic example of a human being.

We might as well get some use I guess, else this night be completely wasted. Ahem. This is undoubtedly a subconscious commentary on your world. You feel trapped within the life you’ve built, the schedule you keep and the people you know, but are afraid that outside of it all there’s nothing. You’re tidy and meticulous besides – prone to obsessive-compulsive idiosyncrasies – and these two traits are conflicting, I’m afraid, producing this strange kind of sterilized limbo. Beyond mere insecurity, this touches on social paranoia.

Right, I’m done with that. Depressing stuff, I have to say.

Oops, sorry. I suppose that slipped outside the bounds of professionalism, eh? Sometimes you get that with these revolutionary psychiatric procedures. Isn’t it fascinating though? We can now delve into the human mind – in 3-D no less! – and observe what an individual is thinking and feeling in their subconscious. It’s a huge milestone for humanity, and medicine, and even you I should think. Because the most exciting part, I didn’t even bother to tell you about: Not only is observation possible, but direct neuro-imprinting!

Neuro-imprinting? Don’t worry about that, it’s technical stuff, and we’d hate to bore ourselves with technical stuff, wouldn’t we? I mean, it’s already bad enough in here. No offense.

Oh screw it, who cares? You won’t remember any of this anyway. Hehe, that’s right. No, it wasn’t in the fine print; I’m sure a tidy little tit like you read through that quite thoroughly.

Well, let’s break up the tedium, yes? Rhetorical question, sorry, you get no choice in the matter. Now, just to crack open this place – kind of like an egg, except instead of yolk, it’s you oozing out. You might notice that the concrete is melting away – crack open was poetic license on my part – and where there is no more, the previously extant void is no longer present. Ha, extant void! Get the joke?

Whatever; your being upset is part of the natural process of internal rejuvenation. Just like the boiling lava and napalm-exhaling dragons are. Speaking of which, you ought to try and use that shield, and maybe the sword if you’ve got the balls…although I must say I can’t tell if you have, what with that massive codpiece. Maybe there are some latent body-image issues after all, eheh.

Whooee, nearly broiled you there! I wouldn’t worry, this is all for your improvement. It’s for science. And medicine! And many other things, I’m sure.

Now, here’s a fun situation; the tallest tip of the titanic tower, where the princess lay. You did well killing those dragons. I never would have thought you had it in you. By the way, have you noticed the implications of stowing a princess in a tall tower? After all, they’re great huge phalluses of buildings, and princesses are ostensibly virginal, and the ostensibly virginal prince goes in and rescues her from the large penile object and divests her of innocence. It’s ironic. They teach you to look for those things in Psychology College, you know. You would have realized that if you had gone there, like I did. Yes.

Where were…

I see. That girl was pretty attractive, wasn’t she? What’s strange is, even in these most intimate moments, I would have a hard time discerning whether you’re a male or a female without foreknowledge. Hm. Ah, there we go. Well, that solves a bit of a dilemma I was having. Apparently gender identity is not, in fact, a problem anymore.

But this is fantastic! You’ve shed your shell, and are taking risks. You’re giving into animal instincts, base instincts which you have unhealthily suppressed. This is a grand moment for me; I’ve done my job well. Are you paying attention? This is rather important, after all. Since I’ve done this on a subconscious level, the changes are going to be magnified to an extraordinary degree in your waking state. Lifestyle changes, huge ones. You’re practically cured.

Except for this one last bit, of course. Go ahead and finish up if you’re close, don’t mind me. Yes, total loss of inhibition I see. That’s good. You’ll need that, for what we’re going to have you doing. Hey, everything’s got a price, right? And if the price is right, well, it’s just like the phrase's namesake show; you get the prize, at cost. The price is not too high, I can assure you. A new life, new opportunities, new everything; we’ve given all that to you. And a tad more. You are grateful.

Not a question. You are. It’s an overwhelming feeling; I know, I put it there. You won’t feel it now, you might never feel it, but if it ever becomes necessary to summon it then begging to serve me is the least of what you’ll do.

The bare minimum.

So do please enjoy this freedom we’ve granted you. It should be lasting. Well, if I calibrated everything right; new equipment can be awfully tetchy, you know. Yes, smile nervously. I’ll see you again someday, maybe. In your dreams.