Adrift in Avillon – Questing in a post-modern age Pt III

Being a shamanic elf, I’m used to experiencing visions, lucid dreams, the voice of the gods etc etc. My elven sister always sniffs when I speak of such things, claiming it’s all down to my frivolous mis-use of certain substances.

Anyway, just last week, while traveling on the drum through the lower worlds, I heard a voice with the timbre of a entity not-to-be-ignored. The voice spoke of a ‘harpsichord in a hollow tree’, to be found on misty Avilion Isle. I was instructed to find this harpsichord and play a selection of Ben Folds Five numbers, with special empahsis on the track ‘Underground’, what could i do but obey?

With my elven sister missing (presumend shopping) I set out on my own for Avillon.

I landed at a portal and quickly stopped a passing maiden, she took one look at me, turned, screamed and fled. Feeling somewhat disconcerted by this turn of events I scanned the horizon and spotted some huge trees in the distance. This was obviously the way to go.

After tramping about the place I finally found myself at the foot of a mighty, mighty oak tree. A sprial staircase led upwards and onwards. Damnit! If there’s one thing I hate in Second Life more than Casinos, it’s spiral bloody staircases. It always takes me an age to get up the things and I usually fall off three or four times. Oh well…

After climbing for what seemed an eternity, I finally reached the topmost branches, only to find a housing development for yuppie elves, sigh…a veritable pain in the backside.

I looked around for the harpsichord and nada, nada, nada. Jumping back to ground level I wandered off, eventually arriving at a glade where the sound of drums and merriment filled the night air.

Settling down on a log I asked one and all whether they knew of the fabled instrument but no one seemed interested in helping out a poor questing elf.

The scene stated to feel like a bad hippie convention from 1972 and I began feeling like Hunter S Thompson at the end of the Vegas book, disillusioned and fed up with the whole damned show. I craved some punk rock adventure, the delights of Midian City and some highly dangerous SL drugs. This was no longer my idea of fun.

I got up, left the scene and somehow found myself at a duel. Feeling like a demented Roman empress I gave the thumbs down, ‘put him to the sword’ I shouted, the trip had gone badly awry, my quest in tatters, the twin demons of decadence and debauchery laughing in my face.

I was a punk-rock elf surrounded by hippies, it was time to leave. To hell with it all!

To be continued…

~ by catrin23 on May 22, 2007.