Through the statics of the void, comes the bells. Melodic tunes which draws people, almost like a siren speaks to the nearby sea-fairer. Once the tune reaches its purpose, it fades from existence, never to be seen again, only until the next traveler.
Why will it come? Only those who receive, will be given. Yet those who receive, and knows cold hard facts, will figure out the meaning
Watch your waters, residents of Freeport 10. May the right one hear the tune.
About time. She told me that you will come. Though, I did not expected you to use this primitive kind of communication. Unless... this one is not meant for me.
*he pauses while he absorbs the melody*
No, it is not. Wrong time, wrong meaning. As agreed, I will wait for my call. She promised me that it will be worth it. I do know.
"The bells continue to ring, spreading the songs far and wide, always drawing the travelers in for eternal rest.."
Should you ever embody any kind of interest into continuing this well versed game of exchanging trivialities in the eloquent contraption of riddles accompanied with a heavy selection of allegories, I shall ask you to meet me There where the rays of Cosmic realms mold with the veils of Chaos
***Transmission Ended***
(08-10-2015, 07:03 PM)Antonio- Wrote: King Eduard is the greatest
####### Connection Established #######
### Taus Open Channel Transmission ###
Transmission shows old Don Quijote. He's focused on strange sounds from his comm.
Funny beard is not helping him to look sane in that moment at all.
He jumped from his seat.
Bells!? Must be some ugly giants playing with windmills! Rocinante! Full speed!
Wait...
Windmills have no bells...
Churches have bells. But why would giants play with churches...
*thinking for a while*
I think it might be the right time for my medicine.
Don Quijote reaches OFF button and starts speaking to his ship again, calling it Rocinante.
*Starts at the sharp intonation of the transmission ping, then stares beffuzledly at the monitor*
"I'm sorry, que...?"
"Ahem, ah, cheri, man, whatever the crude biology-based compartmentalisms of society may class you as, I must admit that it does happen to be slightly too late for poetry, eh?"
*Saves the transmission for latter day analysis.*
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's Shipping Unions, retired from a life of piracy.)