Friday, June 30, 2017

Wizard Razzmorten Visits Demonica

Atlantic Puffins

Razzmorten appeared in the moonlight amongst the tall basaltic rocks of Demonica's keep on Head (or Pennvro). He clambered about with his staff, listening to the pounding surf far below as he paused here and there to feel for the presence of magical wards and protections set by Demonica. "Well, Razzorbauch's not here," he said. He removed his hat, and for a time stood with his face fixed into the breeze, feeling the air. At last he found a place amongst a tumbled colonnade of stones and went to sleep until morning. Just before the sun, he awoke to find himself in the midst a colony of very agitated puffins. He was on his feet at once, clambering up the rocks.
The towers of her castle rose behind the crown of the great barren prominence as he climbed. There was no drawbridge. Her portcullis was up, in fact it was unlikely to have been closed that night. He could definitely detect magical wards, but none laid for someone afoot. He walked right in. He found her reading a letter as she sat in her great
scarlet and white chair on the dais, legs crossed, having egg in a hole and tea. She looked up with a gasp.
"Good morning," he said.
"Good thing you explained that," she said. "I'd never have considered any morning 'good' which had you standing in the middle of it. Now how would you like for me to arrange your death?"
"Oh go on, Dee! We both know better. I'm not here to arrest you. You made that more difficult than it would ever be worth years ago. And besides, I stepped in here fully prepared to turn your head into a cinder at the first sign of trouble. I'm only here for a
brief chat."
"You went to a good deal of trouble."
"Well, yes. Years ago, you told me that you knew of a tribe of heathens (as I believe you called them) who were supposed to have gotten through the plague which killed the First Wizard without any deaths at all. Do you remember anything about that?"
"Well no, dear. It's very difficult indeed to recall anything at all for the likes of you or Niarg. Does anyone there have the plague?"
"I have," said Razzmorten as though he were merely speaking of tickets in his pocketbook, and now you have it as well. So if you wish me to come back and cure you, it might be best if your memory returned."
With a yowl, the snow white cat sitting in Demonica's lap shot across the throne room and white-female-persianvanished. Demonica stared off into the distance for a moment. "Ngop," she said, heaving out a sigh. "The Ngop, 'way down the west coast, here. The plague simply decimated everyone throughout the continent, everyone except the Ngop. It's said that
they came out of it completely untouched. Down the coast. Talk to their shaman. I think
he goes by Ngerrk-ga. And talk to their chief, Dort-da."
"Ngerrk-ga!" cried Razzmorten. "I know him. He and Dort-da were the Aboriginals I once met at the Hanter Koadou. They mightn't have worn clothes, but they were well respected."
"Well, you've managed to disarm me, Razzmorten. You always did have your skilled moments. Do me a favor. If you were indeed telling the truth, would you be so kind as to return with the cure? My cat needs someone to feed her."
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Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

Laora the Little Dragon Shares a Vole with Ceidwad the Diatryma

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"I think this is what you don't grasp," she said with polite patience. "Most of nature is profoundly logical without consciousness. Just being conscious does not make one profound. All of dragondom is not big enough. Now, I hate to be rude but Mary is in
peril. Have we discussed this enough that...?"
"Absolutely," said Spark, springing to his feet. "I'm off to the council. I'm guessing that they'll agree at once to Mary's request. Meanwhile, please feel free to enjoy our hospitality and make yourselves at home. I'll be back immediately as soon as I know."
Ceidwad and Lladwr gave dignified nods as he dashed away, leaving them with sitting with Lipperella. At once Laora and Edward scurried forth and plopped down directly in front of them. Lipperella looked at Laora and raised an eyebrow. Laora looked at the grass. Bit by bit she began studying Ceidwad with rapt admiration. It was quite something to be recognized as 'pretty' by such a large and important bird. She saw something in the grass. "Got 'im!" she said, snapping up a vole. "Would you like half, Ceidwad? I'll split 'im with you."
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"Oh, thank you sweetheart. Don't mind if I do." she said, neatly snipping off and swallowing the squeaking end. "They're delicious."
"Edward doesn't like them, so I guess I get to share one with somebody."
"Well, he wouldn't dear. Humans like things like this cooked...don't you, Edward?"
Edward looked up from his piece of stick with a wary nod.
"And you're very lucky, since you're able to do things I couldn't possibly manage..."
"Like what?" said Laora with astonishment.
"Well, you have hands on the wrists of your wings for one thing," said Ceidwad. "so that means you could cook Edward a nice, fat vole...with your momma's help, of course. And not only that, you're going to be coming into your flame soon, and then you can toast 'em on the spot."
"Your..." hollered Spark, as he lunged into view, out of the cavern entrance, "Your request has been granted!" Everyone looked up as he hurried over to the grassy spot. "However, the council feels that it can spare none other than Tors and Kast and me, and that's only two thirds as good as you might think, since I can't spout fire!"
"We're certainly most grateful for all the help we can get," said Ceidwad, "but why are so few of you able to come?"
"The clan's preparing to move us to the Black Desert and since our survival seems to be at stake, they're afraid to let go of very many," he said, pulling a grass stem to chew on.
"But you've been here above three hundred year," said Ceidwad with wide eyes. "What has caused this?"
"I reckon you and the White Witch haven't heard from Elves nor Niarg since your return, aye?"
"Oh, oh!" said Ceidwad. "This has to do with Demonica in some way, doesn't it?"
"Well, Spitemorta, to be exact..."
"Actually," said Lladdwr, "Mary had hoped you'd 'ave heard from the Elves, since the only safe place she could think to flee to with her enchanted ones was Jutwood Forest."
"I see," said Spark. "Well, according to the Elves, Spitemorta and Demonica have convinced the people of Loxmere-Goll that we dragons carried out plans laid by Niarg and the Elves to set fire to all their sukere fields. Right now they're preparing for war with
Niarg and the Elves. When you showed up Tors, Kast and I were getting ready to leave
for Niarg to see if taking the entire clan to the Black Desert is warranted. Meanwhile, the
whole clan is being made ready for an immediate flight the moment we return. So, the
council is sending the three of us to your aid before we go to Niarg, provided we set out
immediately."
"Things are deteriorating far faster than we'd expected," said Ceidwad.
"They only approve if we can be gone within the hour," said Spark. "Are you two right ready for a return journey?"
Ceidwad and Lladdwr nodded in unison. "Let's go," said Ceidwad as they sprang to their feet and gave their feathers a thorough shake.
Spark drew aside for a farewell with Lipperella, Laora and Edward and the Mob that they knew would end the moment Tors and Kast appeared up the stairs. They had scarcely had hugs all 'round when the pair came bounding out into the open with bags and gear. Spark gave Lipperella an extra squeeze and started off.
Ch. 42, Stone Heart

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Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps

Monday, June 26, 2017

Abaddon Meets Longbark

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Abaddon went quite speechless as he studied the looming tree, only looking down here and there as he stepped along behind Lance in the thick dry grass. Like some spreading burr oak in a pasture, Longbark was scarcely fifty feet tall with great long horizontal limbs reaching out from a trunk that was better than twelve feet thick above the buttressing roots. "But Lance, it's got its leaves in the middle of winter."
"Some kinds of oak are like that. The mothers told me that evergreen oaks used to be right common in the Forest Primeval..."
"Lance!" he whispered frantically. "They're mad! They're crazy! They're petting it like it was a dog or a cow or something."
"You'll see," said Lance with a grin and a shake of his head as he took him by the hand and led him forth to stand before Celeste.
"Ther be no thyng heere at al for to fere, yonge Abaddon," said Celeste with a kindly smile. "This beth Longbark, and she the moost eld of yere and wyseste beynge a-lyve in Glan Da ybe. Hit nis ne evene possible hir for to harme thee in the leste." She took him by the hand and drew him up to a branch that stuck down from a limb low enough for him to walk up to. "Come. Takest hold of this heere lowe braunche and lette hir thee yfele."
"Why, this is frightening him," thought Lance, as Abaddon turned to him with wide eyes. "You can manage all right, Abby," he said with a smile and a nod of reassurance. "Celeste would never, ever do anything to hurt you, and that old tree won't even give you a rash." He watched Abaddon give in and reach for the branch. "Ah, for all his meanness, he's just a little boy after all," he thought.
"So what?" said Abaddon with his customary brashness. "It's just a plain ol' stupid tree..."
"Juste myndest that thou halt fast for a tyme if thou wouldest," said Celeste as she keenly eyed the branch.
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Without warning, Abaddon felt as though someone who did not approve was looking all through him. At the very same time, each glossy green leaf in turn folded shut like a book, as its respective petiole went utterly limp, collapsing like a row of dominoes, all the way up and all the way down the branch away from his hand, except for the leaves on one small twig, which remained open and up. "Not fair!" he shouted. "That was no fun at all!" He yanked off a twig with a loud snap, flung it at Lance, picked up a stone the size of a grapefruit and heaved it at Longbark to bounce off with a deep resonant thud. "It's just a stupid ol' tree! Why are you idiots all staring at me? You think you're smart? You're going to die for trying to make a fool of me by having me touch it! It's just a dumb stupid tree!" With that, he dashed away through the weeds and vanished into the lava tube.
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Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps





Friday, June 16, 2017

Elves in Search of Bondmates

Excerpted from ELF KILLERS


It was still dark when the dour Elf woman gathered up the skirt of her leine and stepped into the wet big bluestem grass. “Would someone tell me why we have to be out in theelves-1Strah before the crack of dawn?” she said. “Isn’t this when the shawkyn spooghey begin their daily hunts?”
“You volunteered with the rest of us, Brede,” said Vorona, as she waded through the grass behind her, “so it’s our turn first. And as for the chosen hour, I’m sorry to say, but the strike falcons determine that. Olloo says that the only time both birds leave the nest is right at sunrise. One of them goes out to hunt and the other one comes back right away to sit on the eggs all morning.”
Brede fell silent and made a childish face which was ugly even in the dark, but filed into the tall grass with everyone else.
“The wild strike falcons make grass nests a foot and a half across in the middle of big mounds of grass and sticks, maybe three feet high by about ten feet across,” said Olloo as he walked, looking from side to side at Vorona, Roseen, Kieran, Oisin and Doona, Brede, Nessa, Markus, Donachan and Martyn to see if everyone was hearing him. “They place these in loose colonies, ten to twenty rods away from each other in all directions. I’ve been watching an especially large colony not quite a league north of here, so that’s where we’re going. I just hope we’re not too late getting started.”
images“So what do we do when we get there?” said Oisin as he held Doona’s hand and tramped along beside him.
“I want to leave everyone in a group,” said Olloo, “armed and ready and out of sight of the colony while I scout about the nests to see if the birds are away. If they are, I’ll gather eggs and fetch them out, two or three at a time.”

They fell silent right away as they struggled through the grass, trying to keep up with him, since he was quite afraid that they were late. Just before the sun peeped over the Eternal Mountains, he made them kneel in the grass back to back with their bows ready and then he disappeared into the waving grass. A redwing blackbird circled overhead, scolding. He was back in short order with four eggs, which he handed to Vorona, Roseen, Nessie and Markus before vanishing once more. Right away he returned, catching his breath as he handed out eggs to Brede (who beamed with delight in spite of herself), Donachan and Martyn.
“Hey!” whispered out Kieran as he pointed away through the grass. “Isn’t that a nest, yonder?”
“That’s dangerous!” whispered Olloo, suddenly wide-eyed. “We’re not outside the colony at all.”
Kieran jogged over to the nest at once, held up an egg and dashed back with it. “I hope it’s alive. You think so?” he said, handing it to Olloo.

“It’s warm and dry. I’ll bet it is.” he said, as Nessie and Markus trotted out of sight.
Suddenly, there was a shrill screeching. Olloo sprinted through the grass to find Nessie and Markus at the edge of a nearby nest with two baby strike falcons shrieking with all their might as they stood in their shell fragments. “They’re going to get us killed if I don’t do them in…” he said, grabbing for his knife.
“No!” cried Nessie as she lunged at the babies and scooped them into her shawl,golden-girl-photographyquietingthem at once.
“They stopped screaming, all right,” said Olloo, but they might not bond with you if you take them. Either way, they’ve already made their noise, so we’d better get out of here, now.”
“My egg’s in the nest, Markus. Would you get it for me?”
“We have to go, or the parents will kill us,” said Olloo. “Come on!”
“I’m calling her Cronney. I want to give my egg to…”
“We can figure it out at home. Let’s beat it, kids!”

Monday, June 12, 2017

Glimpse into the Home life of an Elf Killer Family



Fnarry-irrny was Dyr's sow, which allowed her to choose the best place in the biggest cave to spread out her things, rear her children and to attend to Dyr's whims and needs. She chose an airy alcove just inside the mouth of the Hooter Cave, well out of the weather, which allowed her the most convenient access to the fire just outside and the best place to flaunt her wealth of beads, shells and skins to all the envious sows who were forced to pass by her on the way to their respective spots further back in the cave. One troll evening (which is just before dawn), she rolled her bushy red head from side to side, gnawing and tugging on an Elf leg as she watched her family eat.
            "Boof!" cried her eldest son as he spat out a great cud of chewed Elf onto the ground. "Gnydy hee-hee-grabbed my grab-up-squeaker rump. Everytime, I get shin-bone-meat! I eat rump."
            "You think like rump," said his younger brother. "You snuff-snuff  like rump..."
            "Gnydy juicy-champs my rump, Da, and you let him," said the eldest, as two wolf-dogs squeezed in to bristle at each other and snatch up his cud of Elf. "You be easy-let, Da. Gnydy will head-smash you, then he'll be Thunder-man. And if Gnydy be Thunder-man, then I'll no be Thunder-man. I'll be hoo-hoo-crawl-animal." He turned to the younger. "But you'd be hum-dee-dumdle with that, Fnana-fnyr. You already be crawl-animal for yuck-champs. Poofy-letter Da grand-showed you..."
            "Rump-jaws, Fnanar!" roared Fnana-fnyr as he shot to his feet to run at Fnanar's head with a furious kick.
            Fnanar ducked as the kick flew by his ear, flinging Fnana-fnyr onto his back, the arm of Elf he was eating smeared all up one hip.
            Dyr stopped chewing and glowered at his sons from under his bony brows.
             "Ooot-ooot! ooot-ooot! ooot-ooot!" cried Fnanar as he flailed his chest with his fists. "That be proud-show rump-trick!" He wheeled 'round to leave the alcove and stepped right into Dyr's stony fist which put him flat on his back, seeing stars. 
            Dyr was a-straddle him immediately, furiously strangling him. 
            "Duda! Nyr-vyr-nirr-trad!" screamed Fnarry-irrny, ropes of beads and greasy breasts flying about as she sprang at Dyr to claw at his gnarly hateful fingers. "No! Stop!" 
            "He's begged for-this ever-since he wet-held Fnana-fnyr under the fast-water," he said, growling spit between his teeth as he gave an extra shove and stood up. He tramped out of the Hooter Cave and past the glowing fires.
            Dyr paused to glance at some kids who were poking sticks and giggling at an Elf child who was well beyond utterances of any kind, tethered and trembling uncontrollably as she awaited her turn over the coals. "No be Fnanar and Fnana-fnyr," he sighed. "Never-once have Fnanar and Fnana-fnyr giggle-romped that well-together. I can't even hunt with them-together."   
            He shook his head and walked out under the stars. A shivering owl called. "One-thing I know-be with all head-nod," he said. "Fnanar has-had his last greedy-champ in the Hooter Cave. Let him yank-bite squeaker-rump from Gnydy. He got his hairy-face new-name cold-time, cold-time, cold-time, cold-time ago.
            "But I have-to slip-let Fnarry-irrny pincher-twist me so Fnanar gets-to stay until he's giggle-grabbed a sow. But he grabby-wants the biggest milksow. Mudful hollow-head! He drool-dreams the wrong end. Hoof! He has sly-kids in every-other cave but the Hooter Cave and diggy-fingers his nose at me.
            "Ooot!" he bellowed into the echoes, silencing the owl. He gave his chest a good three thump drum. "And let Gnydy come at me for a good head-smash. He needs his thunder-stamp, too."  

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Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps

Friday, June 9, 2017

Minuet Sends a Surprise to Spitemorta

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Captain Bernard peered about at the landscape of Cwm Eryr, wincing here and there at recollections as his massive march streiciwr brenhinol stepped carefully amongst the tumbled armor and bones, staying abreast of Queen Minuet on hers. "I can't believe her grit," he thought, pretending not to glance aside at her. "She's almost serene, all decked out in her gleaming armor astride Vindicator's snow-white twin sister."
"Captain," said Minuet. "look yonder, by the dead tree. Could that possibly be...?"
"Ol' Brutus?" he said with a grunt, as he dismounted to go see. "Oh, you got that one right first try, Your Majesty. Has to be, head and all. Right where King Hebraun left him, though someone's been along in the last day or two and smashed him up pretty good. And that someone probably knew him, don't you reckon? Well, I mean Brutus was one of those as never could get beat up enough to match what he had a-coming to him..."
Minuet dismounted and removed her helm, letting fly her fiery red hair in the breeze. "Did you think to pick out a bivouac on the way down here, Captain?" she said as she thoughtfully rocked back and forth Brutus's smashed hauberk, gorget and breastplate with her toe. "I realize it's early."
"I'm afraid not, Your Majesty, for as you said..."
"Well what I need for you to do is to position them out of sight over that rise, yonder and come right back here without them. It doesn't matter how you do it."
Bernard left her where she was and set about at once getting the troop beyond the rise. Presently he returned to find her carefully examining the smashed skull and helm.
"Well," she said, standing up and brushing her hands as he dismounted, "guess what? There are some person's tracks all over, which I think you already noticed, but did you see the bird tracks? Big ones and little ones. Come look. Couldn't they be crow and sparrow? And here's a nice big black feather."
"Oh, that's them. I'm surprised that this amount of smashing up Brutus's remains is all..." Suddenly he had lost track and was gaping at what Minuet was doing.
She knelt and slapped the helm, leaving her coronary seal glowing and smoking in the metal. She set it beside the rest of the armor and smacked breastplate as well, leaving her seal to glow and turn blue as it cooled.
"My!" said Bernard, shifting to his other foot. "That's..."
"Ffwrdd a ni!" she roared, springing to her feet with a fling of her arms, sending the armor leaping into the sky to shoot away south beyond the horizon.
Bernard looked wide eyed and pale.
"I didn't mean to alarm you, Captain. I just thought Brutus should return to his queen. Do you think she will be pleased?"
"You sent those bones and armor clean back to Castle Goll?"
"They're already there."
"Oh!" he said with a spreading grin. "I think that was a right noble gesture, Your Majesty."
"Yes. And it's between us. That's why you moved the troop."
"I always knew you were Razzmorten's daughter, but I swear I never knew..."
"I vowed not to use my powers as queen, Captain, but their time has come, and I don't The_Burgeoning_Cover_for_Kindlewant it known, yet. Did you give the order to bivouac?"
"No."
"Then let's go. This is no place for us to be. We might actually have enough light to stop at Ash Fork and pay our respects to Hebraun."
Ch. 22, The Burgeoning

Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps

Friday, June 2, 2017

Spitemorta Has a Tantrum

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Spitemorta sat forward and grabbed up a hot cinnamon bun from the tea table just set before her, tore it open and dropped it onto a saucer to steam as she found the fresh butter and honey. "Oh," she said, licking her fingers and leaning aside to give the bell pull a yank. She went right back to her bun and took a huge bite, closing her eyes with a images (3)xdelirious moan.  
A young page came and stood at quiet attention beyond the table.
"Hey Piffant," she said through her mouthful of flying crumbs, when she finally noticed him.
"Your Omnipotence," he said with a deep and gracious bow.
Spitemorta took an eye-rolling moment to chew. "Listen Pissant," she said with a strained swallow, "go find General Coel and have him here this very hour."
"Anything else, Your Omnipotence?"
Spitemorta dug at the wad of bread in her cheek with her tongue and shook her head. 
"I live to serve you, Your Omnipotence," he said with a parting bow.Pearsons-renaissance-shoppe-childs-costume-300x300
"As long as you see that you do," she said. She wanted to see Coel at once, but it made no difference to her in the least whether or not Pissant managed to live. All that really mattered was her coming coronation and public executions of Queen Minuet's army.  
"Your Omnipotence...?" said her skinweler in a wee voice from it's hollow on the arm of her throne.
She put milk into her cup, slipped off the cozy and picked up the teapot. "Damn you, Pissant!" she bellowed into the echoes, hurling it across the room to smash on the marble floor. "Thanks to you, it's gone stone cold. Or maybe I need to boil somebody's stinking head in the kitchen..."
"Uh, Your Omnipotence...?" said the skinweler as a hired woman peeked in from a side door.
"Hey!" cried Spitemorta, "Get me a fresh pot!"
“This looks exciting and all, dear, but shouldn't you be showing some interest in the rest of your empire?” said Demonica, appearing with her fists on her hips by the shattered teapot. 
"Now!" hollered Spitemorta.
"My word!" said Demonica, walking right up to her. "Your first steward is waiting for an audience as we speak."
"So? Send him in."
"It is indeed nice to find you taking me seriously for once, dear," she said, cocking her head to look her over closely, "but you seem to be forgetting that you're the only one who sees me. Besides it's your skinweler. Your steward in Gwael..."
"Oh poop! How would I have time for those heathens with my coronation almost upon us? What would be as important as that? After all, I am the first one in history to rule the entire world."
Demonica drew a wide-eyed breath. "It might not hurt to ask him," she said with a nod at the skinweler. "I mean, he's no further away than the arm of your chair, and convenient as it is, it would be an act of actually ruling the world, don't you think?"
"You do it. I'm busy. And Coel will be here directly."
"Well I would, dear," she said with another nod at the skinweler," but you're forgetting that I'm dead."
"Your Omnipotence?"
"What!" said Spitemorta, thrusting her face at the skinweler.imagese
"Aah!" said the steward, jerking back from his ball. "Forgive me Your Omnipotence, I wasn't quite..."
"Well? What is it? I'm right busy here, and you're not likely to have anything important."
"I beg your pardon for my asking you to indulge me over this trifle," he said, pausing for a breath as he thrust out his chin, "but we've a situation here that's plainly on it's way out of control."
“What are you talking about, Irmen? What is going on there?”
"King Vortigern had a brother, Catigern, Prince of Pow Jyantylesk, who had a son before he died..."
"Osulf. So?"
"Well, Osulf claims the throne."
"What?"
"Now that sounds like something I remember talking about," said Demonica. "Or weren't imagesdemonicayou listening when I was...?"
"Shut up!" screeched Spitemorta.
"I beg your pardon, Your Omnipotence. I'm not sure I heard right..."
"What's he thinking?" she said, grabbing up the skinweler and pressing her face into it. "He can't do that. Artie died, which made me queen. I'm still queen. I may be empress of the world, but I'm still queen. And I left you on the throne."
"Yea. But he says that you never ruled Gwael before you became empress. According to him, you never once sat on the throne, and that left him next in line to rule after Artamus. In fact, he's sitting on the throne right now. And his coronation is tomorrow..."
"Horse shit!" she shouted, flinging the skinweler well beyond the tea table to hit the carpet with a muffled crack and go rolling away toward the entrance.
Irmen jerked back from his skinweler and rubbed his temples.
Spitemorta heaved herself to her feet, ran after her ball and grabbed it up. "So what kind of steward allows someone to come in and take the throne?" she said, catching her breath.
"One who's in his chamber, free to use his skinweler to reach you, if you don't mind my putting it that a-way. They took me by surprise. Had I not cooperated, I'd be dead or sitting in the dungeon and you'd not know a thing about it."
"I'll be right there..."

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Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps