Tegwin

Imagined on Fryday, the 66th of Fever, Year 18. Founder of Ur's first publishing house, Plain Crystal Publishing.

News

Nu-Nu Dude Nu-Nu Dude added Tegwin as a friend!
a long time ago
Moi Moi added Tegwin as a friend! (it's mutual)
a long time ago
Zen 10 Zen 10 added Tegwin as a friend! (it's mutual)
a long time ago
Spaghetti Thompson Spaghetti Thompson added Tegwin as a friend! (it's mutual)
a long time ago
Tegwin joined AWAKENED GLITCHLINGS
a long time ago

Notes

Ananda and the Turtle, Pt. 2
By Yakitori
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

It is considered a bad omen for something to go missing on the day of your birth, and the loss of the statue was a terrible omen indeed. Our chieftain, angered and helpless, thought that since today was my birthday, our tribe's loss was my fault entirely.

Guards came to my hut that day and took me to the chieftain?s court.

?Where is it?? The chieftain snarled. ?Where is the statue??

?Your majesty,? I said calmly, ?I have been in my hut all morning, I could not have taken it.?

?That is no excuse!? he screamed. ?You will be sent out into the rain forest to find it. And if you cannot, you will not return at all.?

With that the guards took me to the edge of our rainforest where scant supplies had been laid out: water skins, a bag of food, some extra clothing and a sleeping mat. Strapping everything to my back, I felt the weight of it all and tried not to cry. Not daring to face the guards, I headed into the forest.
Ananda and the Turtle, Pt. 1
By Yakitori
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

You may think that a turtle is simply a slow-moving creature
undeserving of respect or reverence, but if you had been born into
the tribe of Bahamalama, you would think differently.

My name is Ananda, and I am 13 years old today. I live with the
tribe of Bahamalama, and like many other tribes, we have a sacred animal. Ours is the turtle.

Centuries ago, our first chieftain, Vladimir, found a small turtle
statue made of a copper-coloured crystal. Recognizing its value,
the chieftain brought the statue back to the temple for the sages
and priests to inspect. Together they concluded that this sacred
artefact had been made by the gods themselves: Ru and Ka.

Now that I am a woman grown and a child no more, the legends of my people are even more precious to me. And so it was with great sadness that I learned today, of all days, that our sacred turtle statue had been stolen.
Ananda and the Turtle, Pt. 2
By Yakitori
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

It is considered a bad omen for something to go missing on the day of your birth, and the loss of the statue was a terrible omen indeed. Our chieftain, angered and helpless, thought that since today was my birthday, our tribe's loss was my fault entirely.

Guards came to my hut that day and took me to the chieftain?s court.

?Where is it?? The chieftain snarled. ?Where is the statue??

?Your majesty,? I said calmly, ?I have been in my hut all morning, I could not have taken it.?

?That is no excuse!? he screamed. ?You will be sent out into the rain forest to find it. And if you cannot, you will not return at all.?

With that the guards took me to the edge of our rainforest where scant supplies had been laid out: water skins, a bag of food, some extra clothing and a sleeping mat. Strapping everything to my back, I felt the weight of it all and tried not to cry. Not daring to face the guards, I headed into the forest.
The Piggy Who Liked to Mine, Pt. 2
Written by Moz Art
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

Limmu Later is one of those streets that piggies dig in. Limmu means ?king? in ancient Assyrian, a long forgotten language in Ur but known in other realms. So anything remotely royal usually denotes singing crystals. They were used to entertain those kings of old, and even now the Giants will pay many crops to obtain one. Crops are what we hold valuable. So while the Giants are keen to seemingly ban us from the Mines, the secret streets are still pig highways to Half Thought, and the Glitchen have no idea.
Many an early morning will see me digging, the gentle sunbeams warming my flesh and propagating that unique bacon flavour. Down, down I dig, scrapping away the earth of Ur to make new dirt piles. I can smell Half Thought streets away; that realm?s scent is unlike crops or flowers or trees. It is metallic and sweet and very addictive. One last scrape and I fall through, the earth closing above me as I land on fresh, green grass.
The Piggy Who Liked to Mine, Pt. 1
Written by Moz Art
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

Piggies aren?t allowed in the Mines no more. It?s not because we get in the way, but because we know things about mining that Glitchen don?t. I?m sitting here musing on potatoes, letting them mix in my gut to please this Glitch who?s waiting to collect his seeds. And I?m thinking about writing it all down (I have Penpigmanship), then burying it somewhere. It?s a story and a half. My name is Sir Loin and this is my tail.

We don?t have picks; we use sharpened trotters. There are certain places to dig that will bring rich pickings. The Batterflies know and they need a nightmarish tale in exchange for such secret information. I have a vivid imagination, and so I know lots of places to dig. You see, in certain streets you can dig into another realm entirely. It?s the realm of Half Thought and if you?re clever enough, you can sniff out crystals that sing. Such are the things that PigLore is made of.
Ananda and the Turtle, Pt. 1
By Yakitori
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

You may think that a turtle is simply a slow-moving creature
undeserving of respect or reverence, but if you had been born into
the tribe of Bahamalama, you would think differently.

My name is Ananda, and I am 13 years old today. I live with the
tribe of Bahamalama, and like many other tribes, we have a sacred animal. Ours is the turtle.

Centuries ago, our first chieftain, Vladimir, found a small turtle
statue made of a copper-coloured crystal. Recognizing its value,
the chieftain brought the statue back to the temple for the sages
and priests to inspect. Together they concluded that this sacred
artefact had been made by the gods themselves: Ru and Ka.

Now that I am a woman grown and a child no more, the legends of my people are even more precious to me. And so it was with great sadness that I learned today, of all days, that our sacred turtle statue had been stolen.
Crossfeathers, Book 1: Initiate
By Larurua
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

It started with an egg.

Seasoned sharply with spice and rolled in the coarse fiber of a particularly wily fox, the egg was buffed to a high sheen with sesame oil and Purple petals. The sum of conflicting smells was nearly unbearable.

Instead of a normal chicken incubation, Dr. Frafu carefully piled hot, freshly-smelted metal bars around the egg until the air sizzled and sparked in the heat.

Why Dr. Frafu did these strange things, no one could say. There were rumors of course, that after his first visit to the Rook Museum, the glitch had gone... strange. It was true that when he wasn't at home in his lab, he spent most of his time at the museum. He had stopped gathering his own supplies, and instead took to buying them in bulk from the auctions, shunning the company of his fellow glitchen.

But it was all going to pay off now, the good doctor thought. Now, when he could hear the sharp crackling of eggshell, he knew the time had come.
Alyss's Adventures in Peatland, Pt. 1
By LuwysCaarl912
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

Alyss was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her chickens all day and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the pen to see if the chickens wanted to chat, but they were as surly as ever. "And what is the use of a chicken," thought Alyss, "If it will only cluck and pout and fly away?"

So she was considering in her own mind, whether the pleasure of making an applejack would be worth the trouble of getting up and finding some oats, when she spotted the bald head and dark beady eyes of a White Piggie peeking at her through the window. Before she quite knew what she was doing, Alyss found herself running out the door and along the street in pursuit of the animal, whose rear end was now but a quickly receeding plump, white blur.

Around a corner and into a dark hole it leapt and Alyss followed, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again. The tunnel, as it was, stretched on for ages.
Alyss's Adventures in Peatland, Pt. 1
By LuwysCaarl912
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

Alyss was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her chickens
all day and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped
into the pen to see if the chickens wanted to chat, but they were
as surly as ever. "And what is the use of a chicken," thought
Alyss, "If it will only cluck and pout and fly away?"

So she was considering in her own mind, whether the pleasure of
making an applejack would be worth the trouble of getting up and
finding some oats, when she spotted the bald head and dark beady eyes of a White Piggie peeking at her through the window. Before she quite knew what she was doing, Alyss found herself running out the door and along the street in pursuit of the animal, whose rear end was now but a quickly receeding plump, white blur. Around a corner and into a dark hole it leapt and Alyss followed, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again. The tunnel, as it was, stretched on for ages.
Ananda and the Turtle, Pt. 2
By Yakitori
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

It is considered a bad omen for something to go missing on the day of your birth, and the loss of the statue was a terrible omen indeed. Our chieftain, angered and helpless, thought that since today was my birthday, our tribe's loss was my fault entirely.

Guards came to my hut that day and took me to the chieftain?s court.

?Where is it?? The chieftain snarled. ?Where is the statue??

?Your majesty,? I said calmly, ?I have been in my hut all morning, I could not have taken it.?

?That is no excuse!? he screamed. ?You will be sent out into the rain forest to find it. And if you cannot, you will not return at all.?

With that the guards took me to the edge of our rainforest where scant supplies had been laid out: water skins, a bag of food, some extra clothing and a sleeping mat. Strapping everything to my back, I felt the weight of it all and tried not to cry. Not daring to face the guards, I headed into the forest.
The Piggy Who Liked to Mine, Pt. 2
Written by Moz Art
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

Limmu Later is one of those streets that piggies dig in. Limmu means ?king? in ancient Assyrian, a long forgotten language in Ur but known in other realms. So anything remotely royal usually denotes singing crystals. They were used to entertain those kings of old, and even now the Giants will pay many crops to obtain one. Crops are what we hold valuable. So while the Giants are keen to seemingly ban us from the Mines, the secret streets are still pig highways to Half Thought, and the Glitchen have no idea.
Many an early morning will see me digging, the gentle sunbeams warming my flesh and propagating that unique bacon flavour. Down, down I dig, scrapping away the earth of Ur to make new dirt piles. I can smell Half Thought streets away; that realm?s scent is unlike crops or flowers or trees. It is metallic and sweet and very addictive. One last scrape and I fall through, the earth closing above me as I land on fresh, green grass.
The Piggy Who Liked to Mine, Pt. 1
Written by Moz Art
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

Piggies aren?t allowed in the Mines no more. It?s not because we get in the way, but because we know things about mining that Glitchen don?t. I?m sitting here musing on potatoes, letting them mix in my gut to please this Glitch who?s waiting to collect his seeds. And I?m thinking about writing it all down (I have Penpigmanship), then burying it somewhere. It?s a story and a half. My name is Sir Loin and this is my tail.

We don?t have picks; we use sharpened trotters. There are certain places to dig that will bring rich pickings. The Batterflies know and they need a nightmarish tale in exchange for such secret information. I have a vivid imagination, and so I know lots of places to dig. You see, in certain streets you can dig into another realm entirely. It?s the realm of Half Thought and if you?re clever enough, you can sniff out crystals that sing. Such are the things that PigLore is made of.
Ananda and the Turtle, Pt. 1
By Yakitori
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

You may think that a turtle is simply a slow-moving creature
undeserving of respect or reverence, but if you had been born into
the tribe of Bahamalama, you would think differently.

My name is Ananda, and I am 13 years old today. I live with the
tribe of Bahamalama, and like many other tribes, we have a sacred animal. Ours is the turtle.

Centuries ago, our first chieftain, Vladimir, found a small turtle
statue made of a copper-coloured crystal. Recognizing its value,
the chieftain brought the statue back to the temple for the sages
and priests to inspect. Together they concluded that this sacred
artefact had been made by the gods themselves: Ru and Ka.

Now that I am a woman grown and a child no more, the legends of my people are even more precious to me. And so it was with great sadness that I learned today, of all days, that our sacred turtle statue had been stolen.
Hound of the Basabasa, Pt. 1
By ArtCon Doily
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

When I arrived, Mr. Slock Holmi was seated at the breakfast table reading a note that had been delivered by frog earlier that morning. I poured myself some mabbish coffee, knowing that Holmi was not likely to offer me any, and waited for him to finish.

"My dear Watsle," said Holmi, finally pushing the note across the table. "It seems I have a new case."

Holmi watched as I read, a bemused look softening his usual furrowed brow. The case, as it was, seemed strange. "You have been asked to track down a hound that has been terrorizing the people in Basabasa?" I asked, incredulous.

"Correct," he replied.

"But hounds do not exist," I said. "The fauna of Ur are limited to butterflies, piggies, rooks and chickens. Other animals are just the stuff of legend."

"Then we will have to investigate," he said, tossing me my coat and heading out the door. I stared longingly at my untouched coffee, and then with a sigh followed after him.
Crossfeathers, Book 1: Initiate
By Larurua
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

It started with an egg.

Seasoned sharply with spice and rolled in the coarse fiber of a particularly wily fox, the egg was buffed to a high sheen with sesame oil and Purple petals. The sum of conflicting smells was nearly unbearable.

Instead of a normal chicken incubation, Dr. Frafu carefully piled hot, freshly-smelted metal bars around the egg until the air sizzled and sparked in the heat.

Why Dr. Frafu did these strange things, no one could say. There were rumors of course, that after his first visit to the Rook Museum, the glitch had gone... strange. It was true that when he wasn't at home in his lab, he spent most of his time at the museum. He had stopped gathering his own supplies, and instead took to buying them in bulk from the auctions, shunning the company of his fellow glitchen.

But it was all going to pay off now, the good doctor thought. Now, when he could hear the sharp crackling of eggshell, he knew the time had come.
Crossfeathers, Book 2: Evaluate
By Larurua
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

In the quiet before the egg hatched, Dr. Frafu thought he could see the Giants coming for him.

Or perhaps that was after, when the explosive crack of the egg sent hot metal flying through the lab, one shard searing the air at high velocity an inch from his face. The onslaught turned his lab to rubble in an instant, but Frafu?s focus was fixated on the egg.

In the eye of the storm, a tiny fluff ball of sooty blackness sat passively, its chest expanding and contracting in a soothing pattern of breath. Frafu crept quietly forward, pulling his lab notes from his bag. When his shadow fell over the black body, the creature shuddered, and the doctor's pen moved quickly to record the reaction.

The inky feathers were little more than fuzz around bright round eyes that shone purple, but not Purple. The creature cocked its head and chirped. But Frafu?s eyes were caught by the two long feathers rising like ears from the top of its head.

Failure!
The Tale of the Giant Grendaline
By Liza Throttlebottom
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

In a swirling cloud of imagination, a bright blue substance of unfathomable beauty, there once formed a consciousness so vast and so fluid that the cosmos were stretched to their fullest to contain it. This consciousness was Grendaline, giant of all that is flowing and wet.

As the blue tendrils whisped together shaping Grendaline's seven eyes and forty teeth, so too did they form her free-flowing thoughts and her feelings, which were mostly, if not all, positive.

Finally, in a voluminous cloud of smoke, the last of the blue was transformed into substance and there she floated, as that was all a planet-sized being could do.

After a half million years of formation and understandably exhausted, she drifted over to a particularly dark and comfortable looking section of the cosmos and began to rest. And as she rested, visions of others like her floated past. Visions of a world drifted by, just out of reach.
Ananda and the Turtle, Pt. 2
By Yakitori
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

It is considered a bad omen for something to go missing on the day of your birth, and the loss of the statue was a terrible omen indeed. Our chieftain, angered and helpless, thought that since today was my birthday, our tribe's loss was my fault entirely.

Guards came to my hut that day and took me to the chieftain?s court.

?Where is it?? The chieftain snarled. ?Where is the statue??

?Your majesty,? I said calmly, ?I have been in my hut all morning, I could not have taken it.?

?That is no excuse!? he screamed. ?You will be sent out into the rain forest to find it. And if you cannot, you will not return at all.?

With that the guards took me to the edge of our rainforest where scant supplies had been laid out: water skins, a bag of food, some extra clothing and a sleeping mat. Strapping everything to my back, I felt the weight of it all and tried not to cry. Not daring to face the guards, I headed into the forest.
The Piggy Who Liked to Mine, Pt. 2
Written by Moz Art
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

Limmu Later is one of those streets that piggies dig in. Limmu means ?king? in ancient Assyrian, a long forgotten language in Ur but known in other realms. So anything remotely royal usually denotes singing crystals. They were used to entertain those kings of old, and even now the Giants will pay many crops to obtain one. Crops are what we hold valuable. So while the Giants are keen to seemingly ban us from the Mines, the secret streets are still pig highways to Half Thought, and the Glitchen have no idea.
Many an early morning will see me digging, the gentle sunbeams warming my flesh and propagating that unique bacon flavour. Down, down I dig, scrapping away the earth of Ur to make new dirt piles. I can smell Half Thought streets away; that realm?s scent is unlike crops or flowers or trees. It is metallic and sweet and very addictive. One last scrape and I fall through, the earth closing above me as I land on fresh, green grass.
The Piggy Who Liked to Mine, Pt. 1
Written by Moz Art
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

Piggies aren?t allowed in the Mines no more. It?s not because we get in the way, but because we know things about mining that Glitchen don?t. I?m sitting here musing on potatoes, letting them mix in my gut to please this Glitch who?s waiting to collect his seeds. And I?m thinking about writing it all down (I have Penpigmanship), then burying it somewhere. It?s a story and a half. My name is Sir Loin and this is my tail.

We don?t have picks; we use sharpened trotters. There are certain places to dig that will bring rich pickings. The Batterflies know and they need a nightmarish tale in exchange for such secret information. I have a vivid imagination, and so I know lots of places to dig. You see, in certain streets you can dig into another realm entirely. It?s the realm of Half Thought and if you?re clever enough, you can sniff out crystals that sing. Such are the things that PigLore is made of.
Ananda and the Turtle, Pt. 1
By Yakitori
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

You may think that a turtle is simply a slow-moving creature
undeserving of respect or reverence, but if you had been born into
the tribe of Bahamalama, you would think differently.

My name is Ananda, and I am 13 years old today. I live with the
tribe of Bahamalama, and like many other tribes, we have a sacred animal. Ours is the turtle.

Centuries ago, our first chieftain, Vladimir, found a small turtle
statue made of a copper-coloured crystal. Recognizing its value,
the chieftain brought the statue back to the temple for the sages
and priests to inspect. Together they concluded that this sacred
artefact had been made by the gods themselves: Ru and Ka.

Now that I am a woman grown and a child no more, the legends of my people are even more precious to me. And so it was with great sadness that I learned today, of all days, that our sacred turtle statue had been stolen.
Hound of the Basabasa, Pt. 1
By ArtCon Doily
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

When I arrived, Mr. Slock Holmi was seated at the breakfast table reading a note that had been delivered by frog earlier that morning. I poured myself some mabbish coffee, knowing that Holmi was not likely to offer me any, and waited for him to finish.

"My dear Watsle," said Holmi, finally pushing the note across the table. "It seems I have a new case."

Holmi watched as I read, a bemused look softening his usual furrowed brow. The case, as it was, seemed strange. "You have been asked to track down a hound that has been terrorizing the people in Basabasa?" I asked, incredulous.

"Correct," he replied.

"But hounds do not exist," I said. "The fauna of Ur are limited to butterflies, piggies, rooks and chickens. Other animals are just the stuff of legend."

"Then we will have to investigate," he said, tossing me my coat and heading out the door. I stared longingly at my untouched coffee, and then with a sigh followed after him.
Crossfeathers, Book 1: Initiate
By Larurua
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

It started with an egg.

Seasoned sharply with spice and rolled in the coarse fiber of a particularly wily fox, the egg was buffed to a high sheen with sesame oil and Purple petals. The sum of conflicting smells was nearly unbearable.

Instead of a normal chicken incubation, Dr. Frafu carefully piled hot, freshly-smelted metal bars around the egg until the air sizzled and sparked in the heat.

Why Dr. Frafu did these strange things, no one could say. There were rumors of course, that after his first visit to the Rook Museum, the glitch had gone... strange. It was true that when he wasn't at home in his lab, he spent most of his time at the museum. He had stopped gathering his own supplies, and instead took to buying them in bulk from the auctions, shunning the company of his fellow glitchen.

But it was all going to pay off now, the good doctor thought. Now, when he could hear the sharp crackling of eggshell, he knew the time had come.
Alyss's Adventures in Peatland, Pt. 1
By LuwysCaarl912
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

Alyss was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her chickens all day and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the pen to see if the chickens wanted to chat, but they were as surly as ever. "And what is the use of a chicken," thought Alyss, "If it will only cluck and pout and fly away?"

So she was considering in her own mind, whether the pleasure of making an applejack would be worth the trouble of getting up and finding some oats, when she spotted the bald head and dark beady eyes of a White Piggie peeking at her through the window. Before she quite knew what she was doing, Alyss found herself running out the door and along the street in pursuit of the animal, whose rear end was now but a quickly receeding plump, white blur.

Around a corner and into a dark hole it leapt and Alyss followed, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again. The tunnel, as it was, stretched on for ages.
Crossfeathers, Book 2: Evaluate
By Larurua
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

In the quiet before the egg hatched, Dr. Frafu thought he could see the Giants coming for him.

Or perhaps that was after, when the explosive crack of the egg sent hot metal flying through the lab, one shard searing the air at high velocity an inch from his face. The onslaught turned his lab to rubble in an instant, but Frafu?s focus was fixated on the egg.

In the eye of the storm, a tiny fluff ball of sooty blackness sat passively, its chest expanding and contracting in a soothing pattern of breath. Frafu crept quietly forward, pulling his lab notes from his bag. When his shadow fell over the black body, the creature shuddered, and the doctor's pen moved quickly to record the reaction.

The inky feathers were little more than fuzz around bright round eyes that shone purple, but not Purple. The creature cocked its head and chirped. But Frafu?s eyes were caught by the two long feathers rising like ears from the top of its head.

Failure!
Crossfeathers, Book 1: Initiate
By Larurua
Plain Crystal Publishing Inc.

It started with an egg.

Seasoned sharply with spice and rolled in the coarse fiber of a particularly wily fox, the egg was buffed to a high sheen with sesame oil and Purple petals. The sum of conflicting smells was nearly unbearable.

Instead of a normal chicken incubation, Dr. Frafu carefully piled hot, freshly-smelted metal bars around the egg until the air sizzled and sparked in the heat.

Why Dr. Frafu did these strange things, no one could say. There were rumors of course, that after his first visit to the Rook Museum, the glitch had gone... strange. It was true that when he wasn't at home in his lab, he spent most of his time at the museum. He had stopped gathering his own supplies, and instead took to buying them in bulk from the auctions, shunning the company of his fellow glitchen.

But it was all going to pay off now, the good doctor thought. Now, when he could hear the sharp crackling of eggshell, he knew the time had come.