My Long Lost Unfinished SpecFic Manuscript...totally Unfinished

The Portal Path

One hundred years ago, when the autochton of Pridiland called murtphils still lived in comity, the Philtra Portal was cleared of the mysterious pea-soup that loomed the enchanted gateway against the intruders.

The Philtra Portal, an interdimensional door which leads to Pridiland, was guarded by Weazen Pilgarlic— a stout, bunny-eared wendedu, who kept the chondrule key and the magic aglet that pricked anyone who attempted to steal the key during the gatekeeper’s slumber.

The murtphils possessed all the gems in the world.  Their houses, called mansihuts, were made of fine onyx wall and gleaming emerald sod that changed  its color whenever the floor is washed with charmed effervescence—colaqua spray.

Every murtphil owned a winged jument—a beast of burden with a buffalo’s head and a carriage’s body.  On its sides sprouted silver eagle’s wings which allowed the jument to fly.  Murtphils rode in juments whenever they transport willow roots to Scentymint Alley to trade for pork paste, bouillon bread, and Burmese rubies.

Murtphils looked like ordinary mortals.  Contrary to the stigma which linked them to magical creatures (but of course, they are in one way or another, considered magical), murtphils barely knew sorcery, or probably were unaware of such thing.  They have piercing crystalline eyes and thick eyebrows.  Male murtphils have short ebony hair as dark as midnight, thin lips as red as their san guine (“blood of murtphils”) and aquiline noses as pointed as the Savant Mountain.

But the bizarre attribute of the Phridian natives were their absence of philtrum above their lips.  Mortal seers told that the lack of philtrum revealed the enchantment murtphils were endowed with.  The absence of their philtrum allowed the murtphils to apparate at will, sojourn at mortal’s dreams and toy with their emotions.

 Murtphils were naturally jesters.  They lure the mortals, whom they called philtrash, into falling in love but only to leave them in desolation, and worst, insanity. 

Of course, the love between a murtphil and a philtrash occurred possibly in our story, but in reality, the death of many ladies blamed the murtphil men for the crime.   Whether or not the rumor rang true, the autochton of Pridiland knew that the mysterious anomie was associated with the escape of Colporteur twenty years ago.

Colporteur was a daring, young murtphil who, together with his three friends, stole the chondrule key and conjured the mysterious pea-soup to open the Philtra Portal.  Petrifying the gatekeeper Weazen Pilgarlic, Colporteur and his three friends unlock the gateway leading to the mortal world, filching away the very important key which fringed the magical dimension to the human realm.

As the years passed, the Philtra Portal remained unlocked, allowing evil to contaminate the once utopic world of Pridiland.  Murphils tried to retrieve and search for the chondrule key, but to no avail, they failed in their quest.  Colporteur and his friends were never seen again and no murphils knew what happened to them.

To defend themselves against the Anomies or the evil nymphs which tried to invade the Pridiland, murtphils used their very last resort to defeat their agressors.  Magic or what they called sahla manc’a. 

Quaker Wisemann, the head council of the Order of the Philtrum,   instructed all murtphils to gather lilac seeds and salamander tongue which could only be found in the Savant Mountain.  They should mix these concoctions to produce a potion which would protect them from the Anomies.  Salamander tongues have the power to conjure spells while lilac seeds have the capacity to make objects float and transfigured.  Then, under the opaque moonlight, the murtphils performed the Ritual of the Portal.  The Ritual of the Portal was their sacrificial ceremony to the oracle of Ba’halla.  It allowed the murtphils to interact with God and to summon his presence.

Quaker Wisemann lighted the twin torch and mumbled something in murtphish, the language of Pridiland.  After a while, a blanche vortex twirled in their midst and transformed into a golden sarimanok, a magical songbird that carried the message of the Ba’halla.  The murtphils all stood in awe as the sarimanok’s beak opened to announce the prophecy.  The sarimanok began to sing the prophecy,

A lad born of a philtrash woman

Will conjure the pea-soup again

Quidam is he with a murtphil’s blood

Beware of Colpoeteur the heir is he

His blood mingled, the prince of Pridi

On his twentieth year will find the path

To Philtra Portal he will unlock.

Yet on his journey the Anomie tries

He the heir the Pridi’s pride

Shall be protected or face his death

The death of murtphils all

The loss of Pridiland

Then the golden sarimanok returned to the blanche vortex and disappeared from the burning flames of the twin torch.  Without hesitation, Quaker Wisemann immediately instructed the Order of the Philtrum to search for the Prince of Pridiland whom the prophecy was referring to...