Eternal twilight of the uncertain LAN

I have limited or no mobility. I don't know if that means i'm merely limping or completely bedridden due to hangover.

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Bacchju.

Aah! what a name! it's the first thing that every one of us individually pondered about on meeting the mahl'oo. Apparently he came to be thus known due to a slight miscommunication between the stork and the turtles.

Bacchju is not (yet) one of the inhabitants of Treeoven. He lives with an indestructible bubble called Shak'D, much closer to the Aerth in a place called Elvenix.

Maamuh arose while I chronicled. I suspect he won't be able to survive the day if he doesn't brush after waking up - even if it's only an hour-long nap. Ahhhh... good habits! the logic evades me...

Treeoven has seen a fair amount of activity of late. Currently, it accomodates 5; originally the domain of Maamuh and the bikjer Stydo, the latter was quickly replaced by Self at the beginnings of Being at Ecks L'rye. Tash'we has been here longer than i can recall; however, in recent time Rushta lost his ways along the galleys of Tridfluur and decided to call Treeoven his home, abandoning his fellow raamrawi Urek in Tridivonvon. To add to this gathering, Windrea moved her belongings up Ji'chovn to Treeoven over a strategic whitewashing procedure called Essipi.

Essipi also effected Bacchju, and he has temporarily relocated to Wentione where Jalal and his manic coboarder Jaikishen Furnando (also a mahl'oo) live.

And now, one Rising later, I return to tell more tales of Bacchju...

Bacchju had a fairly simple childhood in the south of Ynd, in the village Chinuk. He said his prayers, did his homework, and ate his sprouts and strawberry milkshake like the good little mahl'oo boy that he was. He didn't trouble the girls, or tie firecrackers to the tails of poor puppies, or do any of the naughty vile things that little boys are infamous for. No; he is Bacchju the Sober, so named due to his dislike for all things intoxicating, like desire, power, anger, and yes, Drink.

How he developed this zenist attitude to vice, can, well, be described better pictorally.
And so, there, in the depths of the cauldron, Bacchju's unmuddied infant brain saw vice for what it truly was: the corruptor of humankind. He tasted the poison like no other mortal shall ever know, and it swam through him and he through it till it coursed his veins as blood. From those depths arose Bacchju the Sober, Bacchju the Uncorruptable, Bacchju the Sticky, and he promptly toddled off to take a bath.