About “living” in a fictional world

What I really love about writing this blog – among a few other things! – is how it makes me discover what I already know. Of course I already knew this, but it took me two chapters of writing and thinking about fictional worlds to discover WHEN EXACTLY “there is” a fictional world for me. When exactly my reading of fiction evolves into a fictional world.

At the end of my last blog I was about to rule out “Vanity Fair” as a fictional world. It was not because, similar to “Shakespeare”, there isn’t really a “world”. In the same way the vortex movement of the language, which permeates everything, creates a singular world practically from the moment I am reading the first sentence, the totally special way of looking at people “through” the irony, that permeates everything, instantly creates this singular world called “Vanity Fair”. And there is even this unusual awareness to be found in the narrator that his narration is creating a world, and where exactly this world begins and ends. To the point of even referring sometimes to things that would come into the story IF they didn’t surpass the realm of “Vanity Fair. So, as in “Shakespeare”, there is this extremely strong “vortex” at work, the dynamic structure, creating a self-contained universe.

I realized that I had already ruled out the “Spooks” as a fictional world, even though I have probably spent months of my life “in” this universe, because the series lacks this kind of structure. And I know that this is the reason that nothing “happened” WITH ME when I was watching, even though I became kind of addicted to it for a time. I probably just loved all these great actors (inter)acting in this crazy environment. And enigmatic characters always hold my attention – as long as they stay enigmatic. That was probably the reason why I liked Ros Myers. When the veil is finally lifted there might actually be “nothing”? Yes, there was even a lot of horrible “truth” to be disclosed, like in “Shakespeare”, which I loved, but it wasn’t the same kind of experience. Most of the time I was “just” watching. In this respect “Vanity Fair” was totally different even though it probably didn’t create a (permanent) world for me. But there was definitely something happening.

At the beginning, it was just laughing. Not derision, mind, I think I was laughing with pleasure about what I found there. And it must have been something I was looking for, some kind of opportunity to do what I wanted to do. So, the laughing had to be about something “serious”. And I certainly approve very strongly of the notion of a moralist which Thackerey “supports” in this novel. Even though I am probably acting rather “irresponsible” within my fictional worlds, compared to real life, morality, understood in the right way, appears to be a crucial issue for me. One of the most fascinating issues concerning the “Sagas of the Icelanders” always was to observe people trying to uphold certain moral standards quite outside of our well-known moral system based on Christianity. It is about which moral values are really important and prevent their world from sliding into chaos and utter destruction. (Which is, by the way, a BIG issue in “Shakespeare” as well …) It is also a key issue in the “Making of England” series where there is this clash between a heathen and Christian moral system, heathen being often equated with “immoral” in our age but, of course, it isn’t. It is just that the “heathens” were much more practical about moral values – which I would recommend strongly in some cases to improve our implementation of moral values. To stubbornly uphold moral values that are impossible to establish is rather a way of questioning their right to exist. And I think that “Vanity Fair” is a world which actively displays a structure to implement morality in people. Because, even though Thackerey makes fun of moralists in the most thorough way imaginable, he is of course himself a moralist. Thinking about it, to implement moral values in people outside of a religious context appears to me to be one of the most important reasons for creating fictional worlds in this early age of great English novelists. It is all about this parallel structure which makes us SEE things. But Thackerey is a very “advanced” moralist, probably even reformed his “trade” to the finest and most advanced it can be. And of course I am very pleased to see that it works on myself, as a child of the twentieth century, probably differently, but as strongly as it might have worked on his contemporary readers. At least for me there is no doubt that the part of the world that comes into “Vanity Fair” is a fundamentally immoral world. Not because it is devoid of moral values – or a world where moral values as such are systematically questioned and weakened to set something else free, as in “Hannibal” – but because people are completely and fundamentally ignorant and deceitful about themselves. This structure displays, in my opinion, exactly why moral values don’t have the slightest chance to be implemented within “Vanity Fair” – the one of the twenty-first century no less than the one of the eighteenth. And the key structure to make this work is to prove it on characters that are “real” people – not kind of “social types” to embody good features or vices. Because this makes it kind of tragic, and makes it genuinely work, making “us” understand what an ugly world “Vanity Fair” really is. I understand ALL OF THEM, as to who they are, what their predicaments are and where they come from, and in which way exactly they are “trapped” in this world. Even such horrible pricks as father and son Osborne, for example. They are truly “human” nonetheless, and if proof was needed for what I just wrote I could refer to the great BBC adaptation from 1998. Because this is what great British actors do best: examine these characters as to their humanity, find out exactly what these people are made of, and play it in a way which couldn’t be more convincing. And, by “being right” about every single character, the series turns out to be as great as the book, with the additional treat of seeing beautiful acting. But in this case I enjoyed reading the book - being more of an explorer myself in this world - slightly more.

So, unlike the “Spooks”, “Vanity Fair” contains this dynamic structure which corresponds with something “within” me and might create something lasting. Maybe it is not much: just making me feel better about the decision to live permanently outside this world of double standards and deceit. Which certainly isn’t a big thing for me because I am not good enough at any of these “accomplishments” to thrive in it. Certainly, the only person the narrator doesn’t ridicule in any way is Becky Sharp, and “we” are probably travelling with her while travelling in this world. But, honestly: who wants to “be” her?

But, even though the “serial” structure as such is not enough for me to create a fictional world, it is unlikely for a single novel – or play – to achieve that. If only because of the fact that I can stay in this world only when I am reading. Whereas the world of a series is extended automatically beyond the current episode because of my looking forward to the next episode, and the second series, and so on. When I made an inventory of my fictional worlds I forgot “Austen” – probably because this world is currently “inactive”. But it certainly still resides somewhere within me as a store of language, and structures, and pleasures. As there is a whole string of novels, not only one, and, not least, a lot of great adaptations by the BBC, the process of reading can be extended almost indefinitely, and, in a way, is still going on. I am still looking forward to anything new in this field, and will certainly read the novel again, if there is a new screen version of any kind, and probably be surprised … 

So, there is of course something that makes series the ideal candidates for fictional worlds, and a big part of my fictional worlds – temporary or permanent – are series, like “House of Cards” or “Hannibal”. The obvious reason is that it is easy to “stay” in them. I just have to watch. Nonetheless most series, like the “Spooks”, though I have spent a lot of time in it, didn’t become “worlds” because they are structurally weak. Whereas “House of Cards”, for example, certainly is a ”model” series but is structurally very strong already on the level of plot. This is usually a weak point of all series – except those that are adaptations of books, of course. And, in a way, “House of Cards” is, though there is no novel or book series behind it but some kind of pattern which is, I think, ultimately derived from Shakespeare as this kind of “wheel of fortune” or “rise and fall” plot. Interestingly, this is just what I EXPECT - and did, from the beginning - not having seen the fourth series yet. And I just realized why I am rather pleased instead of disappointed when a series comes to an end. It is because I put structure first. It is mostly structure that makes a text special and satisfactory, and “strong” enough to interact with me in a “serious” way.

So, series often make me feel as if I was in a fictional world, watching them, because I am spending so much of my time “in” them. But quite often I am “just” spending time, being rather passive, sometimes even wasting time, as I am not really watching, letting my thoughts wander instead. A lot of it might be more about how much I like to be in a fictional world, giving me the illusion that I am. But the totally different way watching some of them makes me feel is proof that there is a fictional world “at work”. And when that happens – that I have this exciting feeling of been drawn into it, feeling the vortex movement of a world being created – I know that I have to FIND A WAY of staying in it. I have to find out where my place in this world is, and how to “fill” this place. And this is the decisive criterion for me that I “am” in a fictional world. In the case of “Shakespeare” it appears as if it was the only world where JUST READING is enough. There is so much to read, and reading Shakespeare in itself is WORK. Of course, the crowning experience is to see productions of the plays, kind of like the reward for all the work. Without it, or without at least imagining them to be performed, there would be no point to the reading. So, there is a different kind of activity involved to “extend” the world beyond the reading. And I think that the simple concept of “work” is a very good one to explain what I mean. I am always so impressed and pleased if I find out HOW MUCH WORK an actor has probably done to create a certain character. And I suppose this is the one thing I really envy them, at least the only one which I can admit to, because envy is something I usually stay clear of. But it can be productive as well, and is, in this case, because it motivates me. It motivates me to think that I can be in this world AS WELL though I have to find my own way of “doing” this.

And, though most of it has to be done through a combination of reading and writing in my case, my ways of staying in different worlds have been very different as well. It usually involves some kind of “stronger” reading. In “Shakespeare” I always start reading aloud, usually when I am reading a play the second time. This has probably brought me back to something I liked a lot when I was an adolescent and had a younger sister I could read to. In the case of the “Making of England” series I re-discovered this as a means to intensify and “slow down” my reading. And it makes me add another dimension to the characters. When I read “Winnetou” to my sister I discovered that I was able to create voices for all these different – mostly male! – characters. In fact, I had to because there is a lot of dialogue in these books without any “he said” and so on in between the respective utterances, so that I had not only to figure out who was speaking but to make clear who was speaking by “doing” different voices. And I usually managed it, which I was proud of. And I am disproportionally proud of being able to do this still. And creating voices for the characters from Cornwell is not just such fun but provides them with an additional dimension which I came to understand better just yesterday when I observed clearly that one of the characters had spoken “himself” instead of me “speaking him”. It really happens when it goes well, when I have actually managed to CREATE characters by creating voices for them. By adding something of my own to Cornwell’s true-to-life personnel I had done something to bring the world to life, and, for me, to be closer, to be more involved in it.  And, of course, reading aloud makes me spend much more time “in” these novels than I would just reading them “in my head”.

So, the most important thing about creating fictional worlds, for me, is how much work I do “in” them, actively re-creating them for myself, kind of putting the world together. Concerning “Middle-earth” it was mostly writing my own “fan fiction”, in a way making sense of the history of the dwarves and their inclination to go on “suicidal” missions. (In fact, there are at least four of them. Besides Thráin’s and Thorin’s rather lunatic expeditions to the Lonely Mountain there is Thrór, entering Khazad-dûm to be killed(!), and Balin, doing the same thing, to be killed as well, although not right away.) Of course I was disproportionally proud of being able to write a hundred pages of fiction in English which I thought to be good writing. I am not so sure of that now, but at least my “mission” was successful. The dwarves and their lunatic pattern of behaviour finally made sense to me, and, together with the films and reading much more of Tolkien than I would have read without this project, it made me spent several years of my life in this world.

But this is still nothing compared to the work I did appropriating the world of the Icelandic sagas. There I practically (re)created the world “behind” the stories from scratch. There might not be many people who wouldn’t see my fan fiction as a lunatic enterprise, but kind of “pasting” together the world behind the sagas through making a file about all the inhabitants of this world, their family trees and stories about them, which is currently over 2000 pages long, over a period of twenty-odd years, certainly beats that. The project is still ongoing, even though I don’t experience much excitement at present, being in that world. But I had so much invested in it, and it would be such a pity to leave it after I finally learned Old Norse to be able to read the original saga texts. This is certainly very complex, but I kind of never really knew why I was doing it until I went to Iceland for the first time, in 2013. Maybe not even until I found “Kötluholt”. Though I was incredibly excited, of course, to see Thingvellir, to see the lava Snorri Godi sparked on, and to discover all the places seen and named for the first time by Skalla-Grim. All this was great beyond imagination, but when “it” finally happened it was quite an inconspicuous moment. I had been persuaded by the literature that the sagas were mainly “fiction”, but assumed that it might be possible to tell which characters had been real people, founded on how firmly they were rooted in this web of a real world which I extricated from the text. This might still be so, and probably is, but a little discovery gave me second thoughts about it. It was about the character of the witch Katla which appeared to me being invented for reasons of plot, the typical scape-goat you can pin the guilt on, so that more important characters might be exonerated. Travelling along the north coast of Snaefellsnes, I was looking into my map and found the place named “Kötluholt” at the exact spot where, according to “Eyrbyggja saga”, Katla’s farmstead was located. And I know this kind of experience is impossible to relate: but I had finally “hit” the “material” deposit of reality on which these stories are based. The moment I had become so excited about them had been when I had “got it” that they were about REAL people. And I had started to look for them, as this window into a past I was interested in but knew I would never have access to, regardless of how much I would read about it. And it appears that, at that moment, I had finally found what I had been looking for all this time, and somehow knew that not a minute of this incredible amount of time I spent “there” had been wasted.

And I really regret that I have to add a paragraph because this last sentence would have been such a great ending for this chapter about “living” in a fictional world. But, reading it again about three weeks after writing it, it has just made me realize completely why this issue of fictional worlds is so important to me. I DID know, of course, from the moment I came upon my second favourite quote by Richard Armitage from an interview about the “Hobbit” films, where he said that what he really wanted from his carrier was the opportunity to “investigate a character like this”. And when I realized: that is EXACTLY it! That is what I had set out to do: INVESTIGATE this world. And that was why it felt important, and why having to leave it for good felt so bad. And when there is pain I tend to examine it to find the cause, maybe to find a cure as well – which I did. – And, even though I didn’t really know that, I have probably always seen reading as “participation” – not as exclusion from somewhere I couldn’t really be because this world doesn’t belong to a “public”- which I might be a part of – but to some inaugurate minority who knows everything about it anyway. And this is exactly the reason why I almost stopped bothering with “serious” literature, using this term as an equivalent of “Ernste Musik” = “serious music” – which actually exists in German! Though I don’t think it is used anymore, having generally given way to the broader term “Klassik”. But Shakespeare or Austen are “classics”, and they are JUST NOT the kind of text which you are not supposed to understand unless you have somehow wormed your way into the author’s brain. I have had a lot of this kind of experience as well, and I think it has been important to understand how far people are able to travel using language as transport. But I have never really been interested in “literature”, which basically means: in authors. I have always mainly been interested in texts, and how they work, and what they do to me and why. And the most compelling thing they can do to me, and, I think, to most people, is to draw me in in that way. And, when I come out again, at least “something” will be different. I don’t come out of that process as the same person. Sometimes this doesn’t last, and then there is probably no permanent world created from this amalgamation of a text and myself. But when this actually happens, when this world is created through reading, there is no experience which I would prefer to it, and I want to repeat it over and over again. Except writing fiction myself, probably, but I might have forgotten by now what this was like.    

Suwa – the third episod

Again, another episode of Suwa, and, before that, some remarks about the new series of „The Hollow Crown“, and the last, of course, because it ends with „Richard III“. This just because there were some ideas that came into my mind, having now read the three parts of “Henry VI” again. (Yes, I had forgotten that there are THREE parts! I ALSO thought that there were two …) Of course this has nothing at all to do with Suwa but with two others of my fictional worlds, and how they still “proceed”.

First of all, I was extremely pleased to have the opportunity to see the whole story of the War of the Roses (including the Hundred Years’ War reduced to what felt like about as many seconds) in succession and am now looking forward to reading all the plays from “Richard II” to “Richard III” again and then watching the complete series as a proper celebration of the anniversary year. This experience of seeing such a substantial part of English history come to live was, I think, what got me into the “histories” in the first place, so that they, as a corpus of plays, are still my favourite part of “Shakespeare”. It began when I accidentally started on Shakespeare’s plays with “Henry V” because I remembered the Kenneth Branagh film and then remembered having always wanted to read all the “histories” (and, when I did, found out that I already had, twenty-odd years ago …) And I kind of had the same experience, watching them in succession in the old version by the BBC from 1978- . In a way it was even better, though the acting and the productions are mostly mediocre at best, but there is practically ALL that Shakespeare has written. Watching “The Hollow Crown” I was totally pleased to see all these great actors, many of which I knew from other significant roles, but I was disoriented as well. In the beginning I wasn’t even able to “pick up” the text without subtitles which irked me. And I don’t understand that now because it is actually very well and clearly spoken, in most cases. But I suppose it was because especially the beginning of “Henry VI” is totally mangled, and I just never knew where I was until I read the play again. But this is kind of what always happens to Shakespeare’s plays being made into films. There are lots of great fights and battles - and here, I think, the filming is even more extraordinary than in the first series - but the text is virtually missing. For example, I was SO PLEASED to see Philip Glenister as Talbot, and then he just says a few sentences and is dead! It is such a pity, and always appears to me to be a waste of great actors not to “let them lose” on that text! I am always looking forward so much to what might happen. And I cannot help being disappointed WITH THEM for not being “better” where it isn’t at all their fault. It sometimes appears as if they have to leap without being granted neither time nor space for a proper start. 

But I know that there is absolutely no point in lamenting that loss, and that I should be grateful for what is there – which I am! For example for Keeley Hawes playing Queen Elizabeth, giving me the final proof that she really is as good as I thought she could be, the way she dealt with that text! Or for seeing Ben Daniels as Buckingham, who plays one of my least favourite characters in “House of Cards”- as virtually the only British actor I could detect in this series! – playing him very well, of course. And Geoffrey Streatfeild, the only new character who made it worthwhile in my opinion to watch the tenth series of the “Spooks”, as King Edward! Though, disappointingly, he has very little to say … 

Nonetheless I came to think at one point: Had they but made a SERIES! Because, in the same way as in former times the fate of a story was ruled by its being turned into a play, into a novel or into a long poem, it is in fact always the format that determines which content can actually be produced and what it will look like. And, in the case of an adaptation, if it will match the depth and quality of the original. Of course “The Hollow Crown” basically IS a series, but it is not a typical serial format. It is a succession of “cinema format” films, each of them encompassing one play, or even one and a half, in the case of “Henry VI”. And, especially when I am thinking of “House of Cards”, I’d like to take up the cudgels for series. It was about the time when I read the “histories” that I took up watching it, and it reminded me of Shakespeare from the start. And now I finally know “completely” what the real reason was – both for reminding me of Shakespeare and for me becoming so fond of it. And it isn’t even always having to imagine Kevin Spacey as Richard III – even BEFORE I knew he actually played him! (Which might be the one thing in my life I became aware I missed irrevocably and which I kind of cannot accept that I did … shitttt! By the way, it might not have been as great as I imagine it because it depends very much on the production as well, and, judging by the few fotos I have seen, I have my doubts. Still … But now I have Frank Underwood instead – on dvd!) 

The real reason is that now, knowing the series so well and having read “Henry VI” again, having had the occasion to compare the “depth” of the play with the “shallows” it becomes being turned into films, I am sure that I was right about my first impression: that, if Shakespeare lived today, what he would have produced wouldn’t have been for the stage but would be something almost exactly like “House of Cards”. And there is not an ounce of overstatement in this, from my point of view, because the dialog is incredibly well written, and clear and profound – just “twenty-first century style”. And the characters are as complex and manifold and true as Shakespeare’s. Only the style has changed to this incredibly fast “action-based” pace we are used to. (Much too fast if you are not a native speaker …) Though, taking into account that the Elizabethans probably performed the whole text on stage - because, what would have been the point of writing it if they didn’t? - and that the plays couldn’t have taken that much longer than they do today … well, maybe they did, and people just had a longer attention span – respectively took breaks repeatedly to do whatever they felt like doing during the plays. In any case they couldn’t have taken THAT much longer nonetheless, and so the actors must have spoken the text incredibly fast. (Which, by the way, based on self-experiment, is the best way to “swallow and digest” big chunks of it …)

And I don’t just think that Shakespeare wouldn’t probably have bothered with theatre but would have produced films and series – as a typical tragedy, like “Lear” or “Macbeth”, or comedies of course, wouldn’t have been series but films – but that, not outwardly but “intrinsically”, Shakespeare’s “Richard II – Richard III” is a serial format. With the wheel of fortune coming full circle again after so many rounds! To produce them that way was not an option because the format didn’t exist then, but I am sure he would have written them as a series, not as eight films, if he lived today. At least this would have been the ideal way, and in fact the only one, to get all this complexity of action and characters, who are all of them historical entities with rather complex back-stories, onto the screen. And I am sure that the “histories” are what “House of Cards” is based on, and the reason why it is so good, why the writers knew so exactly what they were doing. At least in the beginning - from a certain point onward something like this becomes self-sustaining. (I meant “intrinsically” again – as to plot it is (of course!) based on an old BBC series with the same title – which might have had some “Shakespeare” in it as well, but I am in no position to judge.) There are obvious features as well which link the series to Shakespeare, especially the “aside” speaking which is turned into Frank Underwood speaking directly into the camera (and which they took from the BBC series as well). And it is certainly not coincidence that, watching it, I always think I know what to expect – where this is going. Though they might still surprise me in the end?

I wrote in one of my last blogs something about “Shakespeare” becoming a standard for me – for what I think to be great and what I want to read - which usually nothing can really match. Not even, usually, any production of his plays! And “House of Cards” is probably my best example so far of what this means because this series is the only “text” I have encountered so far that can. It is EVERYTHING Shakespeare has written in “Richard II – Richard III” – within a contemporary context. Of course I realized this from the start but became fully aware of it taking up “Henry VI” again, with all the reading experience I have had in the meantime, and was struck anew by the way Shakespeare could turn historical complexity into “digestible” fiction. Which can be great fun as well, even where it is really gut-wrenching. But, apart from being fiction and not history, “House of Cards” is exactly like this – to the point of being the only production based on “Shakespeare” which matches the expectations reading Shakespeare triggers in me completely. So, I am looking forward to the third (and last!?) series coming out on dvd in December as kind of a crowning experience of the “Shakespeare year”.

Episode 3: Opres und der Blutprinz

Als sich alle Gäste von dem Königreich und den Limaris verabschieden, gibt es noch ein Hurra für Sama und Opres. Danach wird Opres zum König ernannt.

Opres und Sama haben Lust, sich wieder auf ein gefährliches Abenteuer zu begeben. Sie spüren, dass der Blutprinz dort sein wird. Doch sie wissen, dass es dabei noch eine Frage gibt: Wo steckt Ulsoro?

Opres hat sich mit seinem Gold ein Haustier geholt, das daran gewöhnt ist, im Eis zu leben. Deshalb hat er künstliches Eis mit ein bisschen Kraut. Aber er weiß, wenn der kleine Wurm nur ein bisschen zu viel davon frisst, wird er ein 1,56 Meter großes Viech werden. Deshalb füttert Opres ihn nur zweimal am Tag.

Opres und Sama fliegen mit dem Raumschiff nach Blutlas, um dort gegen den Blutprinz zu kämpfen. Sie kriegen bei der Raumschiff-Fahrt noch Nachrichten von anderen Völkern, die ihnen davon berichten, dass der Blutprinz von Blutlas auf den Planeten Ulsora fliegt.

Auf einmal bemerkt Opres, dass hinter ihnen ein Schuss ist, der von dem Raumschiff des Blutprinz kommt. Opres und Sama stürzen mitten auf den Planeten Blutlas. Als sie angekommen sind, nehmen sich Opres und Sama einen Eimer aus Eisen, mit dem man sonst Lava aus dem Feuerplanet herausschöpft. Sie benutzen ihn, um sieben Kilogramm des Sandes von Blutlas mitzunehmen. Sie stellen ihn in ihr Raumschiff.

Sie laufen über Blutlas.

Opres sagt: „Das ist ja ein Planet mit ganz schön viel rotem Sand.“

Sama antwortet: „Da hast du Recht. Dieser Planet besteht aus Sand. Doch hier gibt es auch noch etwas anderes. Wie auf unserem Planeten gibt es hier Leben.“

Auf einmal strömen winzige Würmchen aus einem kleinen Loch auf Blutlas.

Sama sagt: „Das sind Tiüf-Würmer. Sehr intelligente Tiere.“

Opres antwortet: „Die sehen aber nicht so intelligent aus. Mehr süß.“

Sama antwortet: „Ja, die sind tatsächlich so klein wie Regenwürmer.“

Opres fragt: „Kann man die anfassen?“

Sama sagt: „Ja. Die sind ziemlich harmlos.“

Opres nimmt sich einen auf den Finger. Doch mit einem Kriecher ist dieser Wurm sofort wieder auf dem weichen Sand gelandet. Dieses Mal nimmt Opres seine ganze Hand, um den kleine Wurm in die Hand zu nehmen. Dieses Mal klappt es. Opres merkt, dass er vergessen hat, die Tür von seinem Haustier zuzumachen. Gerade will es einen Bissen von dem Futter nehmen, da nimmt es Opres in die andere Hand. Der Tiüf-Wurm freundet sich dann mit dem Haustier von Opres an.

Opres hat gar nicht bemerkt, dass der Blutprinz eingetroffen ist und dass er gegen seinen Vater kämpft. Opres kämpft mit. Zusammen schaffen sie es, dem Blutprinz eine Panzerung an seinem Bein abzuschneiden. Gerade als Opres versucht, dem Blutprinz das Bein abzuschneiden, wackelt der ganze Boden. Der Blutprinz bricht in ein höhnisches Gelächter aus. Sama und Opres bemerken, dass Ulsoro eingetroffen ist.

Sie wollen gerade Ulsoro angreifen, da zeigt Ulsoro ihnen auf einem kleinen runden Bildschirm, dass Arinn und Geen in Gefahr sind. Opres sieht, dass ein Krieger, den Opres noch mitgenommen hat, das Raumschiff repariert hat. Der Blutprinz und Ulsoro haben das nicht gedacht. Dadurch schaffen es Sama und Opres wegzufliegen. Ulsoro und der Blutprinz wollen sie aufhalten, doch sie sind zu schnell.

Als sie auf dem Feuerplaneten, auf dem die beiden Krieger in Gefahr sind, landen, merken sie, dass es auf einmal sehr still ist. Ein Drache liegt tot am Boden. Doch als sie bei dem Drachen sind, bemerken sie, dass der Drache es geschafft hat, Arinn zu töten. Geen schaut mit einem traurigen Blick auf den Boden.

Opres und Sama sind sehr traurig, weil Arinn getötet wurde. Sie versprechen Geen, dass sie ein Trauerfest feiern werden für den besten Freund von Geen, Arinn.

Aus dem steinigen Boden schießt auf einmal ein riesiges Wesen heraus. Es ist der Vater von dem Drachen. Mit einem Brüller schleudert der Drache Geen zurück. Der Drache spuckt Feuer und trifft Opres fast. Doch der weicht aus und nimmt mit einem flinken Griff sein Energieschwert, zündet es an und springt auf den Drachen. Opres sticht ihn in die beiden Augen. Der Drache kann nichts mehr sehen. Er geht in die Richtung, wo Sama war, doch der weicht aus. Der Drache geht weiter und schlägt mit seinen Klauen überall hin, da, wo er Opres spürt. Doch der weicht immer flink aus.

Sama sieht, dass der Blutprinz sich auf dem Drachen befindet und ihm was ins Ohr flüstert. Dadurch weiß der Drache, wo er seine Klauen hinschlagen muss, um Opres zu töten. Doch er weicht so lange aus, bis ihm die Kraft ausgeht, und springt dann mit seiner letzten Kraft auf den Kopf des Monsters und sticht ihm einmal in den Kopf.

Opres springt von dem Monster herunter. Sama und Opres kämpfen gegen den Blutprinz. Es entsteht ein langer Kampf, bis Geen es schafft, eine Luftkraft zu entwickeln, um den Blutprinz zurückzuschleudern. Dann fliehen sie. Der Blutprinz schnellt ihnen hinterher.

Gerade als sie bei dem Raumschiff sind, sehen sie, dass Tirra, eine Hexenfreundin von Opres, gegen den bösen Zauberer Galvoss kämpft.

Galvoss war schwach, weil er so gut wie keine Gestalt mehr hatte. Doch dann wurde er mächtiger und wurde dazu ernannt, Tirra zu töten. Opres will ihr gerade helfen, doch da schwingt der flinke Zauberer seinen Stab und tötet Tirra. Als Galvoss bemerkt, dass Opres und Sama da sind, fliegt er mit seinem Monster mit Flügeln weg.

Opres sagt: „Schnell, ihm hinterher!“

Doch Sama sagt: „Nein, dein Volk macht sich schon Sorgen um Geen, Arinn und uns.“

Geen, Opres und Sama fliegen zurück nach Galnzes, um dort wieder ein Fest zu feiern. Das Trauerfest. Sie stellen das Restliche von Arinn in ein Feuer und verbrennen es. Danach feiern sie ein fröhliches Fest.

(Episode 3: Opres and the Blood Prince

When the guests took their leave of the realm and the Limaris they cheered Sama and Opres. Afterwards Opres was appointed king.

Opres and Sama are getting keen again to set out on a dangerous adventure. They anticipate that the Blood Prince will be there. But one question remains: Where is Ulsoro?

Opres has used his gold to buy a pet which is used to living in the ice. For this purpose he has brought artificial ice with a small amount of herbs. But he knows that, if the little worm only gets a little bit too much food, it will turn into a monster of about 60 inches. Because of this he feeds it only twice a day.

Opres and Sama are travelling in their spaceship to Blutlas in order to fight the Blood Prince. The are getting messages of other peoples during their voyage which relate that the blood Prince is on his way to Ulsora.

Suddenly Opres feels that they have been shot at from the spaceship the Blood Prince is travelling on. Opres and Sama crash onto the planet Blutlas. After having arrived, they pick up a bucket of iron which usually serves to collect lava from the Fire Planet. They use it to collect seven kilos of sand from Blutlas which they put into the spaceship.

They are walking on Blutlas.

Opres says: “There is a lot of red sand on this planet.”

Sama answers: „You are right. This planet is made of sand. But there is also something else. As on our own planet, there is life.”

Suddenly there are tiny worms streeming out of a small hole on Blutlas.

Sama says: “These are tiüf-worms. Very intelligent animals.”

Opres answers: “They don’t look that intelligent. They look sweet.”

Sama answers: „Yes, they are in fact as small as earth-worms.“

Opres asks: „Can I touch them?”

Sama says: „Yes, they are not dangerous.“

Opres gathers one of them on his finger. But with one crawl the worm has again landed on the soft sand. Opres uses his hand to gather up the worm. This time it works. Opres realizes that he has forgotten to close the cage-door on his pet which is just trying to get at the food. Opres gathers it up into his other hand. The tiüf-worm and his pet become friends.

Opres hasn’t realized that the Blood Prince has arrived and is fighting his father. Opres joins the fight. Together they manage to cut some of the armour off the Blood Prince’s leg. Just as Opres is trying to cut the leg off the earth begins to shake. The Blood Prince sneers at him. Sama and Opres realize that Ulsoro has arrived.

They are just about to attack Ulsoro when he shows them on a small, round screen that Arinn and Geen are in danger. Opres sees that one of their men has repaired the spaceship, which came as a surprise to the Blood Prince and Ulsoro. Because of this they are able to escape. Ulsoro and the Blood Prince are trying to stop them, but they are too fast.

Having touched down on the Fire Planet where the two warriors have been fighting, they suddenly realize that it is very quiet. A dragon is lying on the ground dead. As soon as they have reached the spot they can see that the dragon has killed Arinn. Geen is standing there sadly, his eyes fixed on the ground.

Opres and Sama are very sad that Arinn has been killed. They promise Geen to arrange a funeral feast for his best friend Arinn.

Suddenly a giant creature emerges from the rocky ground. It is the father of the dragon. With a roar he pushes Geen off his feet. The dragon is spewing fire and almost hits Opres. But he side-tracks the dragon and, swiftly drawing his energy sword, switches it on and jumps on top of the dragon. He takes out both of his eyes with the sword. The dragon cannot see anything. He approaches Sama who side-tracks him. The dragon marches on, striking in every direction with his claws, wherever he can feel Opres. But Opres side-tracks him swiftly.

Sama beholds the Blood Prince on top of the dragon whispering in his ear. Because of this the dragon knows where to strike to kill Opres. But Opres side-tracks him until his strength is gone. He uses his last energy to jump on top of the dragon and pierce his head with his sword.

Opres jumps off the monster’s back. Then Sama and Opres are fighting the Blood Prince. A long fight ensues until Geen manages to develop an air power to fight back the Blood Prince. They are able to get away. The Blood Prince follows them.

Coming back to their spaceship they see that Tirra, a witch and friend of Opres, is fighting the bad wizard Galvoss.

Galvoss had been weakened because he had lost his shape. But then he grew powerful again and was appointed to kill Tirra. Opres is just about to help her when the wizard suddenly wields his magic wand and kills Tirra. When Galvoss realizes that Opres and Sama are present he escapes on the back of a winged monster.

Opres says: „Let’s follow him!“

But Sama says: “No, your people is already worried about Geen, Arinn, and us.”

Geen, Opres, and Sama return to Galnzes to celebrate Arinn’s funeral. They burn Arinn’s remains. After that they feast.)