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Snypiuer sees his niece headed from her room to the bathroom. Snypiuer is not wearing his glasses, so he just sees a fuzzy figure . . . with an orange face!? He puts his glasses on and gives out an uncontrollable gasp. Snypiuers' niece is in a makeup faze and follows makeup tutorials . . . yeah. Snypiuer: *GASP!!!* Niece: *Stops and stares at Snypiuer* Snypiuer and niece stare at each other for an uncomfortable moment . . . then, Snypiuer: *Starts to sing* Oompa loompa doompa dee do I've got another puzzle for you Oompa loompa doompa da dee If you are wise you'll listen to me Who do you blame when your kid messes up Covering her face with a bunch of makeup How can you make . . . her understand She looks like she's trying to kill . . . Bat . . . Man You look like a cartoon villain Niece: MOM! *Stomps away* Snypiuer hears his sister in the distance: WHAT THE!? HA! HAHA!! Snypiuer hears the stomping return as his niece enters the bathroom and slams the door. Snypiuer: HEY! Mr. Wonka called, he says you need to get to work because there's so much time and so little to do! No! Wait! Strike that! Reverse it! Niece: *From behind door* YOU'RE NOT FUNNY!!! Snypiuer: YES! YES I AM! AND SO'S YOUR FACE! Snypiuer LOVES his niece! She's his BESTEST BUDDY EVER!

I've got quite a bit of lore on Thuliens and other races in the Shard Scape Feel free to look around and/or ask questions if I didn't explain something well enough.

Peredhil wanders in to listen. Removing one of the dust covers from a plushy chair, he sits to observe, unaware that his Giant Guinea Pig bodyguards, Guido & Nuncio, have taken up positions in the shadows behind him.

Where would I find the Awakening series? - Am excite! -

O.K., I started to hear a cadence in my head. I was trying to figure out what the cadence was from, because it seemed so familiar. So, I put some random words to it and came up with this poem. It, kind of, makes sense. A bit jumbled and disjointed if you ask me and I, kind of, feel it's not complete but I'm just going to claim it's nuanced and evocative. And yes, that one word you think I misspelled is spelled correctly - told you . . . nuanced and evocative. Once I finished it, I stared at it for a while and suddenly it hit me, the cadence is from a song. It's not the whole song, just bits and pieces that repeat, instead of flowing in the proper order. I haven't heard it in years but must have recently heard it in the background somewhere. Once I figured it out, I started to think of different directions I could go, but decided to leave it as is because, right now, it's INSPIRED by the song. I believe a rewrite would just end up being a Weird Al-esque parody. Let me know if I've managed to write it in a way that lets you hear the cadence and figure out the song. Remember, it's just snippets that repeat and not in order. Hints: Pop; part spoken word; old but not an "Oldie" (Motown, doo-wop, etc.); singer-songwriter. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ We had dreams, when we were young. About all the things, we would have done. By now. As time passes by, dreams they die, And we find ourselves where we're at, Somehow. Childhood dreams are lost. Or simply fade away. We tell ourselves that it's o.k. They were only bits of childish games We once played. Late at night, When everything is still. An emptiness, deep inside. No matter how hard we try, We just can't feel. A lifetime spent, Seemingly lost And alone. A wasted life of wasted time Wasting every chance to find A home. We had so many dreams Once When we were young. Dreams of all the wonderous things. That By now We wish We had done.

Stormy Walk Somedays I'm happy to be here, walking this dim and dusty road hearing the raindrops patter there and pitter on the stony walk. it's not too much, to feel the breeze as it wuthers 'round my neck and limbs and the scent of the petrichor, rising strong as the earth drinks deep, and breathes out... But other days, my vision craves the toss'ed clouds and misty dark the place where lighting has its birth and the raindrops, do embark It makes me wish that I were there; a place where naught but nature, free its cycle rolling ever on finds peace in chaos, eternally.

I AM DOIN AN EXCITE EEE EEEEE *deep breath* EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE My serial web-novel "Awakening, Quickening" has been rated 132nd of 3,600 epic fantasy books on Wattpad, and has over 1K views on Inkstone!! And I just got this email: (panicpanicpanicpanicpanicccc) Congrats! Novel Recommended on <Fresh Stories> Your hard work has paid off! Your book <Awakening, Quickening> will be recommended on <Fresh Stories> on <2024.04.02>. Please keep writing, your book has the opportunity to get contracted!

Well-reasoned, IF Glups could shed excess mass as smaller Glups. I'd have to call that a mutation because Glups grow until their size simply becomes too big to hold together structurally or they, eventually, dry up from lack of absorbing new goo. To be able to excise a portion of itself, a Glup would need to be able to create a pseudo pod or appendage that it then severs. Glups can NOT create pseudo pods or appendages. Even if it could, cutting a piece of itself off, the Glup would lose structural integrity and fall apart. The addition of a new gas or liquid could grant the ability to do so, but that would also fall under the no mutations caveat. The closest I could get involves accidently sliding into a small depression and getting stuck. Not even a big or deep depression in the ground - just enough so a Glup is unable to wiggle hard enough to get out of it. Glups would call it "The Hole". I have no idea how to make that an epic adventure though. I then realize that I'm thinking like a being with arms that can hold a weapon or manipulate objects and legs that can move me from place to place and up, down or around things in my way. A voice that allows me to communicate beyond base emotion or simple expression. Not to mention the lack of knowledge as to what will ACTUALLY happen after my demise. *By the way, the reason Glups have a low-level emphatic connection isn't totally because they share the same goo, it's because the goo, itself, retains the essence and memories of ALL previous forms it took. So, while the community of Glups are only a "not quite" hive mind, each individual Glup, basically IS a hive mind of all its' past selves and each of those past selves are spread out amongst all other Glups that absorbed that goo. So Glups don't actually die, even when they dry up, once their powder is absorbed, they rehydrate and, boom, they're right as rain. Glups are pretty much immortal when you think about it.* So there's the dilemma: NOT what is an epic adventure to ME, what is an epic adventure to a GLUP!? I try to get in the mindset by sitting on my hands, cross legged in the middle of the floor. When my niece comes in and asks what I'm doing, I whisper until she gets close enough to hear, then I wiggle and whisper one-word thoughts like, "bored" or "hungry". By the way, should I be concerned that NO ONE in my family is troubled in the slightest at my behavior? Not one of them has said, "You know what, we ought to have him evaluated." They used to. When I was younger. Now, not so much as a "what have you".😕

Or like the old Spaghetti Westerns where the cowboy is CLEARY inhaling and exhaling cigarette smoke and NOT making a deadly threat, THEN you hear him inhale/exhale while his lips move. I think you would do it like Peredhil's example, but you'd have to do it line by line - the original line that the author WANTS the reader to "see" and then, underneath it in brackets, what the reader ACTUALLY "sees".

By redub, do you mean MST3k commentary? Perhaps the use of square brackets and italics would do it? [Brilliant thinking pre-coffee. I wonder what he can think once caffeinated?]

I'm not a real big fan of horror, but I've read the descriptions and snippets of some of this authors' work and think a real horror fan would enjoy his books. This is his site: Horror Author David Viergutz He's trying to become a full-time writer, the dream, so give him a look and, if you like his work, recommend him to others.

I recently played Monopoly Cheaters edition. Interesting concept but not really pulled off all that well. Anyway, I decided to make my own version. And I'm jotting down my brainstorming efforts here so I can get back to them later. Ok First up. Stockmarket: Game of Life has one and I've long thought Monopoly should too. So, while I'm tinkering around with my own version why not. So, how it works Land on Go and you get $400 (Because people have had this as a house rule for years anyway so let's make it official ) And you have the option to pay $100 to buy a number from the Stockmarket 2 to 12 and when anyone rolls that number you get $100 from the bank. You can only buy one number each time you Land on Go and only one person can own a number. You can sell/trade Stock numbers just like any thing else you own. Next Free Parking is changed to Lottery Land here roll the dice get that much ×$100. Snakeeyes gets you $200 boxcars gets you $1200 ect. One roll per visit. Getting money from Free Parking is another been around forever house rule So why not The Go to Jail space is now Teleport. Go directly to any space on the board; and proceed as you would getting there any other way. There are going to be plenty of other ways of going to jail, so we don't really need this one. Next up The two tax spaces are replaced with Scoundrel spaces: Land here. Draw a Scoundrel card. If no cards are available then Draw your choice of Comunity chest or Chance card or roll again. The other way to get Scoundrel cards is by rolling doubles When you roll doubles you have the option to roll again (as per original rules) or to draw a Scoundrel card. Ok That's it for the board for now Worth noting I'm building this with the original board. I want my railroads and utilities. Which seem to be the first things to go when they make a smaller version board. I might rename some properties for flavor and change a few prices as I'm getting rid of $1s and $5s for easier money handling. Might also change some of the Chance and Comunity Chest cards also mostly for flavor. Now for the big bit The Scoundrel cards. Each card will have some dastardlydead on it. Bank heist, Pick pocket, Arson, ect. Then there is the penalty section Being a Scoundrel is risky business after all The penalty will be a fine and/or going to Jail. The penalty is triggered by another player using one of their Scoundrel cards to NOPE what you were trying to do. Used cards go to the bottom of the stack. The stack may be shuffled at this time. In case it wasn't clear Scoundrel cards are played when you need them and can be held until needed with no limit on how many you can have. Now I just need to work out the Scoundrel cards themselves.

Snypiuer has a new niece, well, she's 5 and she's Snypiuer's nieces' daughter and he's only seen her a few times, but he's already her favorite! She's a tiny, squeaky little thing. When Snypiuer picks her up, his thumbs and fingers touch. She loves to lift his beard and hide under it, she screams, "THIS IS MY FAVORITE THING!" and Snypiuer screams back, "THIS IS MY FAVORITE THING!" - Snypiuer is of the firm belief that ALL children should be raised believing that EVERY conversation should be as loud as possible! O.K., so yesterday, far too many relatives were visiting and Snypiuer sees his new niece and she runs over to him: Snypiuer: "WHY DIDN'T ANYBODY TELL ME YOU WERE HERE!?" Niece: "I DON'T KNOW!" (by the way, the ENTIRE conversation, she's giggling and has her hands clenched in front of her chest and randomly bending and twisting about.) Snypiuer: "WHERE HAVE YOU'VE BEEN!?" Niece: "AT HOME!" Snypiuer: "WHY DON'T YOU COME TO SEE ME MORE!?" Niece: "I DON'T KNOW!" Snypiuer: "IT'S BEEN LIKE THIRTY YEARS SINCE YOU WERE HERE!" Niece: "NAH-AH!" Snypiuer: "YEAH-HAH! HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU HAVE NOW!?" Niece: "I DON'T HAVE KIDS! I'M A LITTLE GIRL!" Snypiuer: "HOW!? YOU'RE, LIKE, FIFTY YEARS OLD NOW!" Niece: "I'M FIVE!" Snypiuer: "HOW ARE YOU JUST FIVE!? IT'S BEEN, LIKE, 90 YEARS SINCE YOU WERE HERE! WHERE DO YOU WORK!?" Niece: "I DON'T WORK! I'M A LITTLE GIRL!" Snypiuer: "HOW DO YOU PAY YOUR BILLS!?" Niece: "I DON'T KNOW!" Snypiuer: "WHAT DO YOU MEAN!? YOU'RE, LIKE, 250 YEARS OLD! YOU SHOULD KNOW BY NOW!" Niece: "I'M FIVE!" Snypiuer: "WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO VISIT ME AGAIN!?" Niece: "I DON'T KNOW!" Snypiuer: "WHY ARE YOU SO CUTE!?" Niece: "I DON'T KNOW!" Snypiuer: "LAST TIME YOU WERE HERE, YOU WERE THIS TALL!" (places his hand around her knee level.) Niece: "NO!" Snypiuer: "YES! NOW YOU'RE THIS TALL!" (places hand on her head and smushes her down a bit.) Niece: "AHHH!!!" Snypiuer: "NEXT TIME YOU VISIT, YOU'LL BE THIS TALL!" (picks her up over his head, close to the ceiling.) Niece: "AHHH!!!" Snypiuer: (gives her as tight a hug as he can without hurting her and she immediately lifts his beard and puts it over her head.) "WHY ARE YOU SO HUGGABLE!?" Niece: "I DON'T KNOW!" (from beneath his beard.) Snypiuer: "WANT TO GO PLAY WITH THE OTHER KIDS NOW!?" Niece: "YES!" Snypiuer: "O.K. THEN, YOU COME TELL ME IF YOU NEED ANYTHING, O.K.!?" Niece: "O.K.!" She gave Snypiuer a hug and took off to play. That was just the first conversation, the others went, pretty much, the same, with a lot of giggles, absurd questions/statements and more "I DON'T KNOW!'s" then I can count.

OHHH, MANY a Snypiuer hater exists! BACKGROUND INFO: O.K., for those who don't know or have forgotten, Snypiuer has an older brother, a little sister and a baby sister. Don't let the titles fool you, Snypiuer's BABY sister has a 20-year-old daughter, experimental test subject num . . . wait, Snypiuer is no longer allowed to refer to his nieces and nephews as "test subjects", not to mention he's no longer allowed to USE them as test subjects, SCIENCE SUFFERS WHEN SHORT-SIGHTEDNESS AND IGNORANCE FLOURISH! Anyways, his brother has 3 kids; a boy and girl (both with kids of their own, a couple who have kids of THEIR own) a few years apart and then another girl around 10-years or so younger, she is the squeaky little things mom, and she also has a teenage son. Snypiuer's little sister has a son who has 2 boys around 6 and 3. His little sister ALSO has an 11-year-old daughter (SNYPIUERS' BESTEST BUDDY EVER!!!) - yeah 2 kids, 26 years apart! ANYWAYS! Snypiuer's bestest buddy ever (the 11-year-old) has a cousin (a girl) on her father's side who is several years older. Snypiuer first met her when he ran into her and her mom at Wally World a few weeks after she was born: Snypiuer: Is that the baby? Mom: Yes. Snypiuer: *Walks around cart to look at baby* Hey there, whatchya . . . Baby: *Stares at Snypiuer with a look that can only be described as a burning hatred, seething with the open desire to VIOLENTLY and BRUTALLY beat him to death . . . repeatedly* Snypiuer has NO idea why this child hates him, but it was instant and deep, as if their souls have been intertwined over countless lifetimes and Snypiuer had been so cruel to her in each and every one, that the visceral hatred she has for him is imprinted, not only, in her DNA, but in the very core of her being. Snypiuer: *To baby's mom* Umm, why does your baby want to kill me? Mom: What!? Snypiuer: Yeah, your child DEFINITELY wants to murder me . . . like, a LOT! Mom: What are you talking about!!? Snypiuer: Your . . . child . . . wants . . . to . . . kill . . . me. LOOK! Mom: *Walks around cart to check on baby* What do you mean? She doesn't wa . . . *sees the way the baby is staring at Snypiuer* OH MY GOD! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BABY!? Now, this IS Wally World. People EVERYWHERE! So Snypiuer IMMEDIATELY turns into John "Bluto" Blutarsky attempting to sneak a horse into Dean Wormer's office and extradites himself from the immediate vicinity of said child and mother. This child has Never cried when Snypiuer's around. She has NEVER shown ANY fear around Snypiuer. She has ONLY shown a disdain and DEEEEEEP "unlike" of Snypiuer who, by-the-way, has been NOTHING but nice and friendly to this child EVERY SINGLE TIME they have come in contact! To THIS day, she avoids being around Snypiuer and has NEVER explained to anyone the basis for her aversion to Snypiuer! Well, that's one example. Someday, Snypiuer will explain how EVERY female in Snypiuer's life comes to the conclusion that they need to beat him. Snypiuer has no idea why, they just do.

These are the icons I'm using for Scoundrel (Both for the space and the back of the cards) Teleport Lottery I'll type in the text for the Scoundrel cards and the changed Chance and Comunity Chest cards later As to printing out the cards I'm working with hand written index cards for now but at some point I will try to find a way to print the cards and make my modified game board. But I'm wanting to play test it some before committing to making anything fancy.

Floe lifted a hand in front of her face. In the darkness she pictured her hand, lifted like a dancer's, soft and white and slender, gracefully tilted at the wrist; tried to picture it moving, wriggling her fingers in front of her face to see if she could see them. Then something thick and sticky plopped from the ceiling onto her hand and slid off, leaving a greasy, smelly trail. She retched and shuddered, attempting frantically to wipe it off on her clothes. That made it worse, of course; the rags she wore smelled horrid too, and she felt a faint sensation of crawling on her skin which she was desperately trying to ignore. The darkness was like a heavy blanket, weighty and black over her eyes, making it impossible to use them at all. She'd have relied on hearing, but all around her she heard soft squeaks and scurrying, the occasional plip-plops of dampness dripping from above, and the rumbles and whooshes of sewage systems above, carrying waste downward into the tunnels. Alone, one of those sounds might have been easy to pinpoint; but together they made an almost overwhelming din of sound, a low roar, not loud, but continuous, blurring each of the echoes into more echos, again, and again, and again. It never stopped. Floe remembered how she had been thinking it would be very quiet in the sewer system, compared to the city above. How wrong she'd been! There was no silence here. This was no calm, hidden place. This darkness was ALIVE.

I have a story likelike idea and like to hear what anyone thinks. The idea would be a rpg like story that anyone can join called The Adventure's Guild. And the premise would be you make your adventure and go on quest. The guest are more like a story starter that you write about completing. If you want to complicate it you would end your writing with a ... And that gives anyone a chance to add a complication with a bit of luck thrown in (a coin flip, die roll, ect.) with one result making you worse off. Example: You are pick herbs and want a complication, so you get captured by bandits with a coin flip: heads you have a serious wound or tails you are just tied up. If it goes well enough there would be an overarching plot with twist and turns. So what do you guys think?

This story has really taken on a sort of "life of its own" I think... With Harmony becoming more and more her own character, and Muse as well, and adding in new characters.... and I'm wondering if I should continue to write it here, or take it and try to produce it, in a more formal sense. Opinions? It's definitely in need of a lot of polish and fleshing out, and it might take me another 10 years to complete, since (as we know) I take long breaks. Long, long breaks. But it's been really nice to write it here and see it grow into more than just a silly whim-post about myself (Yes, I actually WAS pregnant when I started this story). My army of small, semi-rabid monkeys has grown to 5 since the time I started this tale. Muse, however, abandoned me until very recently when I finally published that book. Now she's back, and much more solid than before, with helpful hints and a toothy grin.... but I digress. Either way I'll probably continue writing bits here from time to time, since I like it here. It's quiet and smells of old libraries and squirrels.

Wrote this one standing at my kitchen sink. (I wonder why....) My house is full of ghosties! You cannot see them there They leave thier dirty glasses And stinky underwear I make so many passes Round and round the house, They're louder than six elephants But shyer than a mouse! My house is full of ghosties! You'll never see them first, You'll see that all the lights are on, And piles of dirty shirts! My house is full of ghosties! They never seem to care Where there's a chore Or several more You'll never see them there. But bring out all the sweet things The drinks and things to eat Then suddenly they all appear! Consume, and then retreat... **These are the selfsame ghosties which love to leave dishes in my sink. Or rather, all over the house. IT NEVER ENDS *cries*

I have FINALLY managed to finish my book of poems and wanted to share that here... it is LARGELY thanks to this forum that I even have these to publish, some of which I wrote as far back as 1997. I'm very grateful to have had those written and archived here in a post I made, back in the "good old days" of MySpace and Yahoo messenger chats. So, without further ado; I introduce "Twilight Riddle, a book of neurodivergent poetry (and winged frogs)" I don't expect anyone to buy it, but if you ever see one at your local library, don't hesitate to check it out and have a chuckle at my expense. To all my Pen friends, gratefully, Helena J. Marfell https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/twilight-riddle-helena-marfell/1143987004?ean=9798855610208

*Muse busts down the door swinging a lamp like a weapon* NOPE NOT GONNA LEAVE, YOU CAN'T MAKE ME *transforms into giant toad & chains self to floor* SEE, I AM LEIA THE HUTT

Grampa likes metaphors On how to get through life. Often very common With ends I think you know. One stone One step One bite One day at a time. Grampa changed the metephors, As i got through life. Though still very common, Ends I think we know. One complication, One crisis, One bill, One day, at a time. Now my metaphors. At grampa's end of life. With common. Ends we all know. One tear. One tragedy. One death. One day.....

Harmony wanders in, followed by Muse, who sniffs around for the dust-bunny and pounces in corners, shrieking high-pitched gibberish. (Harmony ignores her) Loving this story; please don't stop! I immediately connected because of Scherezade and James in the tale, but I'd still appreciate it even if the names were different. Great to be back at the Mighty Pen. ❤️

Hey there little froggy What'chya doing there? Wait a minute . . . Who stapled wings to your back? Who superglued that clump of hair? You know you kind'a look like Elvis If he were a Fairy Frog. Gotta say You sure don't look like any toad I've seen singing on a log. I wonder if those wings Can really make you fly Or, at least, glide A bit If you jump Really, really high Hmmm Something is amiss I'm beginning to think You sit there Unmoving You stare without one blink Let's see what happens If I try to move you from there There's got to be a stick I can poke you with Lying around here Somewhere Here's one Time to find out if it's what I fear Yep You fell right over Face first And now I'm looking at your rear O.K. we'll just put you back Pretty much, the way you were found And I'll skedaddle In case your creator is around Wouldn't want my own wings Or a pompadour head of hair So, I'll be on my way Leaving you right there Have a good day and sorry for the poke I hope you didn't mind I will admit this You were a wonderfully Curious find.

Vibs is getting REALLY nervous. First auto shop, "Major problem, fix costs more than car is worth. That'll be a gross amount of money just for the bad news." Specialist shop (after a couple of weeks waiting for an appointment opening), "No, probably not, couple of moderately priced problems that can make it APPEAR to have a major problem. We don't fix them here. Get them done and we'll take another look for you." Snypiuer, "How much do I owe you?" Specialist shop, "Nothing, we just checked it." Snypiuer calls first shop, "Took car to specialist, said you miss diagnosed problem and they didn't even charge me to check, can I get a refund of the gross amount of money I paid you?" First shop, "No." Snypiuer: Waiting for opening at DIFFERENT shop to get smaller problems looked into. Vibs, filled with anxiety, stares at Snypiuer. Snypiuer, "Don't worry Vibs, by the time I get everything fixed, we'll be well into World War III and have a whole different set of problems to deal with." Vibs sheds a single tear and trembles. Comforting hugs all around!

Day Four: Fever Dreams and Loose Ends (ooc: Man these post are longer than I thought. This should be the last day needed to have james return so this weekend I will catch up on the days, stat telling spooky and cozy tales, and stop being so serious. Till then, take care.)

Day Three: The Inevitable In all of the places in the Mighty Pen there is one you must go to if you ever visit is the Boaz Room. Though you might wish to prepare a reservation, for you see the Boaz Room is simply...no, that is completely the wrong word, for you see, the Boaz Room has nothing simple about it. It is home of the most complex art, grandest entertainment, and heavenly food. There is only one place in the entire Pen that could rival it, and that is the forbidden treasure vaults that lie deep beneath the Mighty Pen. Though, due to recent events, the Boaz Room is rather empty. And because of that the elven receptionist is beyond board. She has counted the tiles in the mosaic flooring, even going so far as growing attached to a slightly faded one and naming it Amaranth. With a sigh she guesses that today is going to be the same and starts to day dream about a prince that will sweep her off her feet, carry her into a bedroom and..."can you help me?" "DO YOU HAVE A RESERVATION!" she shrieks out of instinct at the sound of the quite voice. "no sorry," responds the startled Shy. The receptionist starts to turn beet red out of embarrassment. "Amaranth, why didn't you warn me." The tile did not respond. "I'm sorry but I can't help you without a reservation." The rejected Shy looks down and apologies as she starts to leave. Panicked, the receptionist almost leaps over the desk, "WAIT!" Shy stops and turns. Quickly the receptionist composes herself and straightens her black dress. "If you do me a favor then I, might look the other way." She gives the teenage girl a smile. Shy claps her hands and rushes over, "I'lldoanythingthing!thankyou!thankyou!thankyou!" "Calm down, now what did you need." "My friend caught a cold and I wanted to know what food would help him." "Hmmmm. I think chicken noodle would be the best." "Thank you!" Shy said as she went to leave. "Wait. Aren't you going to wait for your order?" Shy started to fidget and play with her hands. "Well you see, I was hoping I could...maybe..." The receptionist smiled, "That must be some friend." Shy nodded. "Then let me get you advice on where to find what you need." Shy started to glow with excitement. After awhile Shy had a list and what to do. "Thank you." She went to leave then stopped and turned back around, "What was the favor you wanted from me?" The receptionist smiled, "Come back and visit me, okay." Shy nodded. "Oh and tell your friend that he should wear a coat when its cold." Shy turned a little red and nodded thanking her once again. As Shy left the receptionist sighed, "Well Amaranth, she isn't a prince, but beggars can't be choosers." Shocked at what she said her face went through the entire spectrum of red as she shook her head and hid her face in embarrassment. The tile did not respond. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Inside the Boaz Room, Zool and Brighid where drinking tea and talking about old times when they hear the elven receptionist say in a frantic tone, "Here she is!" Brighid just had enough time to turn around before being tackled by Shy. As she was about to ask for some clarification she looked at Shy and saw tears running down her face, "Please come quick, James is dying." Shy explained to Brighid as they ran back to the tavern. James was sick so she made him chicken noodle soup and when he ate it he started to throw up and clutch his stomach in pain. Multiple illnesses and cures rushed through the talented healers mind as they made it to James' room, but it was easy to see what was the cause. Angrily she turn to Shy and said, "Scheherazade..." She started to get ready to scold the young girl when a pain voice said, "your food did the trick." Brighid turn around again to see James sitting up on his bed, sweating, trying to not show how much pain he was in. "your cooking is making my sickness run from my body." *ULP* He quickly covered his mouth. "violently. very. violently." She caught on quick what he was doing as Shy's smile lit up the room from the praise. Shaking her head a little, "You will spend the night with me tonight Scheherazade. James needs his rest." As she escorted the girl out James said, "ah, what brings the witch here," as if he just realized she was here. "Let's go," she growled as they left. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Later that night James kept rolling around in pain. "stupid author, i knew..."*blaaarg* "Your an idiot!" From the doorway stood a brilliant, and overly kind, healer. "She didn't cook the chicken in the soup. Eating raw chicken is, how to put this gently STUPID!" "and to make it worse the witch returns." Brighid walked over to James and put a vile to his lips. "Dink this, it will help the pain and nausea. And I am not witch. For the thousandth time." James gave a weak smile as he finished the vial. "you just..." "And what is even your problem with witches anyway. Did one curse you or...." she stopped when she say his face. Tears running down his face. "..reminded me of..." he looked at her and she felt the room around her start to shift. "my problem, curse." His smile sent a shiver down her spine and she could swear she was starting to see her breath. With a flash of lightning in his eyes he said, "Let me tell you a story." -------------------------------------------------------------------- **The Prince and the Witch** Long ago, in a far away land there once was a kingdom called Crow's Peak. And as the sun rose a young man stood shirtless in a small field. In a doorway of a small shed near the field a woman stood. "Young prince, please return to bed before you catch cold. Or do you wish to address your subjects," she joke waving her hands to the crows. "My loyal subjects, listen to my plea," the crows stopped eating and looked at the boy, "Push back the sun my men, for I want more time with my love. Now go, REVERSE TIME!" with a wave of his hand the crows took flight and he turned to look at the woman, and smiled. Her hair had silvered with age, but time had been kind to her. And the boy could only see the laughter in her eyes and the smile she always wore when he was around. She shook her head and giggled, "You flatter me young prince, however will I return the favor." The two lovers retreated back into the shed. This was not new. It started when the older woman first came to the castle, back when her hair was still gold and showed no sign of silver. But she was so much older then she thinks, before the young prince made it his mission to always see her smile. A few hours pass and the sun lies high in the sky, and the prince is deep in the castle's dungeons. Flinging open a door he sees the older woman, bleeding, bound with chains to the wall. He starts to rush to her when he is grabbed and before he can speak he is thrown to the ground at the feet of the king. "i told you will come for me," came a voice form the cell. "burn the witch." The boy looked up at his father. Cold eyes of fire gazed back at him. Then he heard the woman start to laugh and looked at her, and started to shake. She was crying. He started to rush to her only to be dragged away by guards. No matter how he struggled and pleaded he was dragged behind his father. "it is for your own good." Later, as the sun fell the young prince was standing by his father, looking down at the older woman tied to a pyre. She looked at him, "Always bring people smiles," she yelled up to him as they set her ablaze. She tried not to scream, but the fire is persistent, and finally she did. As the moon rose and the fire finally died, the boy walked out the castle gate. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- "And as he wandered the name Crow's Peak shorted to Crow, and no longer a prince he went by his name..." "james," Brighid said with her hands covering her mouth and tears in her eyes. James turned with a cocky grin, "Or I'm just lying." "Why you," she bolted up right and stomped out of the room. She stopped at the door, "you're a bad lair you know." "yep," he responded looking out the window. Gripping the frame of the door a little harder she sighed. "That medicine only stops the pain, you still are sick. so rest up." She left. "yep," James said once again, a fire burning in his eyes and the sound of a woman scream roaring in his ears. But perhaps the fire is only reflections of out the window, and the scream is the wind through the boards of the tavern. Perhaps. (DUH DUH DUH! Times up for now. So same thing will delete and add when I get time. But I just couldn't write this now. I am having so much fun, man I forgot this how this felt. See ya guys soon! And I am 100 percent sorry for using fellow pennites in my story here but James and Shy live in the Pen, so I am deeply sorry again. I will treat them with the respect they deserve but if you have a problem I will remove it. That being said, I am going to start dragging more pennites into this collection of tale, and start telling more actually stories in here. Thank you all so much and I hope you are doing well and having fun. Till next time.)

Day Two: Paths well Traveled {Author Note: I found a new job with a new hours of work, so I was thinking of writing again. Then you sent out the note to everyone, made it not hard to see the stars aligned. Though it has been hard for me to start up again. I do like the idae for the nursery , as a place for people to help an idea grow. And thank you Snypiuer for the welcome, and everything else.} The writing desk started to scribble on the piece of paper and James looked over at it. Nodded an agreement as a dress smacked into his face. Annoyed he looked over at the closet that Scheherazade vanished into over a day ago and gently growled, "Any day would be nice Shy." "I need the perfect outfit," came the distant voice in the closet. James just shook his head. "There! Hows this look." James watched as Shy came out in the closet in a stunning silk scarlet dress. More practical for dancing than the autumn chill. "Your going to catch a cold in that." She just looked at him blankly, "But does it look good?" James face palmed. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shy almost flys down the stairs into the Tavern of the Quill's main room, "Guess yous back?" She dances around the tables to the cheers and applause of patrons old and new. And they get louder as James walks down in his duster, giving small waves and a few over the top bows. "BOO!" comes a deep, silky voice. Bringing silence and confusion to the room as everyone looks for the culprit. "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" It echos around the great hall till finally someone says, "THERE!" and points. On the bar top is a creature most foul and hideous. As a great pennite once said, "A demon that has cursed our kind for so long, each and every one of us is born with full and complete hatred . . . and fear, of him." Yes, the terror of Snypiuer, a DUST BUNNY! Realizing it has been spooted it quickly vanishes under a table. And when a brave pennite looks...it is not there. Shy starts to get wide eyed, spinning quickly to look at James who immediately says, "No, you can't keep it." And with Shy starting to pout the tavern once again erupts into laughter and merriment. And unbeknownst to all, the dust bunny watches, preparing his next return. As Shy and James head outside, ready to take in the sights of the Mighty Pen. They see pennites all getting ready for the harvest, and the festivals that follow. They see old friends and new, giving waves and swapping pleasantries. Shy bounces around, beyond thrilled to greet everyone, and relishing the compliments on her dress. But soon the autumn chill starts to take hold. James realized that Shy was no longer sprinting pass him turned to ask her whats the hold up and sees her hugging herself and shivering enough that he almost feared she fall apart. She shivered, it was so much colder than se though, but she didn't want to admit that James was right. Then she heard him say, "Hey Shy," she started to look up at him, ready to tell him to shut up when a duster covered her, "Mind carrying my coat I don't want to wear it any more." She watch as he turned and said hi to another passing pennite. She smiled and wrapped the duster tighter around her and sprinted to catch up.

Somewhere in the Keep of the Pen is Mightier than the Sword the lifeless, naked (some would say bloated) "corpse"? of Snypiuer releases a copious amount of gas, sending dust bunnies fleeing in all directions. If one were to look very, very closely, they might, just might see the faintest of smiles and, perhaps, a finger twitch. WELCOME HOME!!!

interesting..... I wonder what would make a 6 inch warrior turn into a giant? ...A Muse, perhaps? 🙃😆 Lovely to see you on the Pen.

Snypiuer Bard 591 Location:Over here. NO! Over HEERRRE!! Posted August 2 O.K., I'll probably, eventually, send out a bulk email about this, but if you're one of the few that lurk, this will give you a head start if you're interested in it. I have a problem. *Ha-ha, I know, "You can stop there Snypiuer!" reaalll funny😒* ANYWAYS, I have this concept for . . . something. Not sure if it's a poem or a story, how long it is, genre, etc. just the seed of an unknown flower. What I need is others to grow it and see what they come up with. So here it is: "A small child finds a box under its bed that wasn't there before." That's it. I have NO idea ANYTHING else: Where it goes. Is the child alone. Is it day or night. How big the box is. How old the child is. Is the child curious or afraid. I can't come up with ANYTHING beyond the nascency of what it can be. So, if you've been wanting to write something for a while, let's see what you can come up with! I have a LOT of these seeds, so I may make a section for them. Let me know what you think. (Harmony could not reply to the post "help!" So I am starting another to see if this one is better) How about-- A small human child finds a box under her bed that wasn't there before. She puts a shoe into the box thinking it is a shoebox. That night she dreams an amazing dream about shoes and hotels and fairies and wakes up, writes it down, and turns it in as an english project for school. She gets an A, and her teacher commends her for her creativity. Curious about the origin/connection of the box to the dream, she tries experiments; puts food in, dreams of a feast and a great festival, and dances the night away in a medieval castle with an elven prince. She puts in a toy car, and dreams of a racetrack and for one night is the star of NASCAR. She puts in a feather, and dreams of a great phoenix who carries her above the clouds. She starts experimenting further. One night she puts in a paper with her best friend's name on it, and a peppermint candy. The next day her friend comes to school raving about this dream she had about a Peppermint Planet that was so real she could just taste it. Then she tries something more dangerous--she puts in a paper with her bully's name, and a Grimace toy she got from McDonald's. Her bully says nothing, but when she mentions going to see Grimace at McDonald's, the bully flinches and looks ill, and then leaves her alone... The girl is thrilled at this newfound power and spends the next day wondering how she'll use it next. She makes a list of people she'll send dreams to and how she wants to use the dreams... She gets home and finds the box gone. Heartbroken, she hunts all around her home and finally goes to bed without it. She knows she can't ask her parents about it without revealing why she wants a plain little cardboard box so badly. Unbeknownst to her, her mother cleaned her room that day & found the box, and thinking it was a nice size & shape for storing things, had stashed it under her own bed...full of her mother's "personal toys", and a tiny, labeled glass jar of the girl's baby teeth.... (that's all I've got but I think the rest writes itself, don't you?) 😐 😅

WONDERFUL!!! I believe most people would go with finding something in the box, but it being empty is brilliant because, of course, an empty box is meant to have something PUT in it.

Time travelers keep trying to kill me . . . starting to question personal goals and ambitions.

I found this article and wanted to share for Memorial Day. (Not sure who wrote the first part, before the article itself): Dogs have served in every major American conflict, all the way back to the Revolutionary War. If a dog of war is lost in combat, he or she is honored by the entire unit. Their bowl is symbolically placed upside down and a poem called Guardians of the Night is read in their honor. Guardians of the Night MAY 29, 2016 BY HARTELL WITH COMMENTS OFFON GUARDIANS OF THE NIGHT Memorial Day, or Decoration Day as it is sometimes called, is a federal holiday set aside to celebrate and honor United States men and women who have died serving their country in the military. Memorial Day originally began to honor and celebrate Union Soldiers who died during the American Civil War. It is customary to fly the U.S flag at half-mast from sunrise until midday, with many people visiting memorials and cemeteries to honor military people who lost their lives for their country, and remembering their loved ones who have passed on. On Memorial Day it is appropriate to also pay tribute to our working military dogs who are loyal, heroic, save many lives and help many troops who just need a friendly touch to help boost their morale. Dogs do not have the option of enlisting in the military. Yet, after they are chosen and trained, they stand next to their handlers, willing to give their lives for the humans. When a war dog locates a bomb, or a large cache of weapons or explosives, or even deters an attack, we seldom hear about it. In fact, according to USWarDogs.org , until about the year 2000, most of the military dogs were actually left behind, literally abandoned. After the Vietnam War, documentation estimates that only about 200 of the 5000 war dogs returned to the U.S. Thankfully this practice changed when President Clinton signed a law allowing for the dogs to be adopted, and now the dogs are adopted to individuals, police departments or other government agencies. (To learn how to adopt and/or support retired war dogs, google “adopt military working dogs”.) “Guardians of the Night” (author unknown) is a touching poem about military dogs that is often read at memorial ceremonies for our four-footed heroes: “Trust in me, my friend, for I am your comrade. I will protect you with my last breath. When all others have left you, and the loneliness of the night closes in, I will be at your side. My eyes are your eyes to watch you and to protect you. My ears are your ears to hear and detect evil minds in the dark. My nose is your nose to scent the invader of your domain. And so you may live, my life is also yours. Together we will conquer all obstacles, and search out those who might wish to harm others. It is for you that I will unselfishly give my life, and fill my nights without rest. Although our days together may be marked by the passing of the seasons, Know that each day at your side is my reward. My days are measured by the coming and going of your footsteps. I am your right arm, the sword at your side, your defender and protector. I attempt to do what you bid of me. I seek only to please you and remain in your favor. Together you and I shall experience a bond only others like us will understand I will listen to you without question, nor will your spoken words ever be repeated. I will remain ever silent, ever vigilant, always faithful and loyal. When our time together is done, and you move on in the world, Remember me with kind thoughts and tales of a time we were unbeatable. If needed at another time and place, I would gladly take up your fight. I am a military working dog, and together we are guardians of the night.” To those who courageously gave their lives, and those who bravely fight today, we say THANK YOU.

As one such intersection, I would have to agree...the Pen is yet another. For myself,it is just, nice, to have a decent conversation without bending time around one's self and accidentally breaking things. Time is awkward and unmanageable. Some bits are gaspingly short, and bright, and hard as diamonds, polished to shine forever in their places; others quiet, and slow, yet quickly, silently pass us by like ships in the night. Many years have passed since I have spoken on the Pen. And I will be back again...

This a quick overview of metals unique to the Shardscape. Or mostly unique; as some of them, Brasium for example, do have real world equivalents. And given that I just mentioned it I'll start off with Brasium. Brasium is an alloy of brass and bronze; which is to say copper, tin, and zinc; with chrome and nickel occasionally added for extra strength and croesion resistance. Brasium is commonly found in places where such resistance is especially needed; and in places where iron is less available. Next we have feromantic iron. This form of iron is mined in the Underworld along the banks of the Styx and is therefore much more able to retain certain enchantments. Which is the primary reason for bothering with the stuff, as it is otherwise no better than iron minded from anywhere else. However the ability to incorporate magical properties makes Feromantic iron highly valued for the creation of Darksteel. Which is formed by adding a relatively small amount of finely powered dark fire crystal. The resulting material is not only able to store highly powerful magical energies it is also nearly indestructible. There are a few other items I will be adding to this list later. When I can find my notes on them.

OKAAAY!! Keyboard was having a seizure, was starting to seriously consider Sny's computer solution (cussing and pointy sticks) You can find book 1 in paperback or hardback, on Barnes & Noble . com under my name (author search). Oh....and my name is Helena Marfell 😅 Knowing that would probably help, too, huh.

I get a newsletter about getting published and, every now and then, leads are given, this last one has a Fellowship grant listed. Not sure if I should list the job leads, but figure the Fellowship is O.K. If anyone wants the job ones, let me know and I'll pass them on (not sure how long they'll be valid): Fellowship for the Dorothy and Lewis B. Cullman Center for Scholars and Writers - "The Cullman Center’s Selection Committee awards fifteen Fellowships a year to outstanding scholars and writers—academics, independent scholars, journalists, creative writers (novelists, playwrights, poets), translators, and visual artists." If that describes you and you'd like $85,000 and full access to this New York Library's resources, submit your application here before September 27th at 5pm ET.

I just started to wake up and realised that months, MONTHS, have flow by. MONTHS! I don't know who was in charge of my body and mind at the time but I want to speak to them. On other topics. Random question. How would one re-dub a story. Like old kung fu movie dubbing. The bad dub where the lips move for a good minute and all they say is yes. If I can't figure this out I could always ignore it and try some other story, but I think it would be funny and an inside joke when the story comes out. So, any thoughts?

Small red and brown birds fluttered in the branches of the massive fruit tree which stood beside the inn. Granny Jak waited for them under the tree, thumping a short wooden cane on the trunk every now and then, to drive away the birds from the fruit. She immediately took charge of Kyir, her old wrinkled face beaming as she saw his new blanket and shirt. Holding Kyir securely, she trotted off down the path and motioned for Harmony and Muse to follow. The path was hard to manage here, harder than Harmony had expected; it was lumpy and uneven, and between the clumps of grassy earth, Harmony spotted ancient worn bricks, too large to have been placed by hand. More of these huge bricks circled the roots of the fruit tree, and around the edges of the garden; it appeared these places were intentionally meant to stay open for growing things. As Granny, Muse, and Harmony walked past the inn and towards the castle, the castle appeared at first to float, and then recede from them; Harmony realized it was much larger than she had first thought, and much farther away–and surrounded by warm air currents, which gave it the illusion of flying. Nothing in Grebefal is how it seems, she thought. The buildings and roads are too old for the people living in it...it’s an old fashioned village, yes, but strictly kept so, in spite of evidence of some kind of higher technology here. It’s guarded by a mere handful of men...and yet it has a high, thick wall and strong gate for protection. But against what? Harmony had not seen anything out in the forest that had warranted such protective measures; for that matter, she had not seen any animal life of any kind, besides the fish in the stream. On top of it all, there were no mages in the town, in spite of a powerful undercurrent of mana which she felt coursing through the place. It was like the town had been fabricated, built for some other purpose, by other people, and then abandoned for some reason, empty buildings and sculpted gardens, left to the elements until the people of Grebefal had appeared, and settled down there. And none of that explained the enigma of the Lord himself. Grebe, Harmony thought. That’s the name of a wild bird, from MY homeworld. Why does a resident Lord of this world have a name from mine? After a short walk, Harmony, Muse, and Kyir arrived at the protecting wall of the large, tired-looking castle; it wasn't a large town, in spite of the immense size of all of the structures. Only a few of the massive houses stood between the town wall gate and the castle itself, looking oddly like they had been arranged beforehand, and then placed there by a giant unseen hand. As they passed through the protecting wall, they heard the sounds of the iron forge; it was apparent it was inside the wall itself–or at least, the entrance to it was. They heard hammers ringing on anvils, and steam and hot metallic odors blew upward from an open staircase set deep into the thick wall. Somewhere within, a reddish light glowed fiercely. They passed this by, and came out the other side of the wall into the sun again. Here Granny left them. “Ye won’t be needin’ me naw. Th’ castle’s door is straight ahead. Jist follow th’ path an ye can’ git lost.” She passed the baby to Harmony and waved farewell, after giving Kyir’s cheek a final gentle stroke of her browned finger. As they drew closer to the castle, the dust and dirt covering the path wore away, perhaps swept by the strong wind which seemed to circle the castle. Beneath the dust and grime of the path, a hard, shining, dark stone stood out, the same stone which appeared to have formed the castle; it was different from the hard, muddled grey color of the stone in the town. The structure of the castle itself was a simple one; a huge, single, circular tower, looking a bit like some sort of fat root vegetable set upside-down. Small slit-like windows pocked the squat lower half, which rose as smoothly from the ground, as if it had grown there. The walls narrowed, becoming an increasingly smaller circle, as it rose higher. At the top, it was smooth-walled with no more windows or other obstructions, finished by a tower top with a jagged wall. Above that wall sprung a single flagpole with a large green, tan, and dark brown banner, which flapped vigorously in the wind. The symbol on the banner stood out, easy to see; a trio of green leaves dancing on a curved, pale tan stripe, surrounded by brown. Harmony thought it looked like leaves in the wind. Wind–there certainly was a lot of it. The closer they came to the castle gate, the harder the wind blew, and the stones grew less and less dusty, more gleamingly polished. Neil Jaksson stood just inside the large iron gated-tunnel to the inside, his hair tostled. Apparently, he had been asked to bring them in. He looked as suspicious of them as ever, but smiled when Kyir let out a soft sneeze as the wind flapped a bit of fabric over his face. Neil cleared his throat awkwardly and then stated stiffly, "Th' Lord knows you're here. Come on in, I'm to bring you to speak to Master Jer. I think they want ter know what yer doin’ in Grebefal, seen’ as we don't get many Mages round here." Muse grinned again at his awkwardness, her pointed ears lifting with her smile. "Have we done something wrong, my good sir?" Her eyes glittered as she stared him down. Neil flushed a little, and looked away. "Well, ah, naw...no. Anyway, come on. Master Jer's awaitin'." Harmony hitched Kyir up a little higher on her shoulder--he was getting sleepy and warm. They walked through the thick wrought-iron gate, down a short hallway, and stepped over a thick, raised doorway onto a straw floor. This was obviously some sort of stable; a covered lamp hanging nearby gave the only light, here, and the sounds of several animals stamping and chewing came from the darkness beyond it. A smell of fresh straw and grain feed rose from somewhere nearby. Beside the entry, a long wooden stairway led upwards to another floor, indicated by a strong-beamed wooden ceiling high above them. Neil led them up these stairs, between a curved wooden inner wall and the stone of the outer wall. Next they crossed a short landing, and then climbed a second flight of stairs. This floor of this part of the castle had stone for the flooring, both ceiling (or the first floor) and floor of the second; it was all made of the same thick stone blocks as the outer walls, laid in a manner Harmony had never seen before. The edges of the stones were laid so smoothly and skillfully, that it almost appeared to be one solid piece of stone; only the natural patterns showed that these were separate sections. No mortar was used, only paper-thin lines of some golden metal, surrounding all of the blocks. From the pattern of the blocks, it appeared that both the ceiling of the first floor, and the flooring of the second, were made of the same stone; Harmony marveled at how these huge blocks of stone stayed up so high, without any beams–or any apparent support, at all. The rooms and walls in the second floor were also stone, here, and the doors appeared to be some type of dark metal; none were solid, but made of a finely wrought iron pattern, covered from the inside with fabric for privacy. Torch sconces stood at intervals, making bright pools of light on the dark stone. The top two steps of the staircase were the same stone; and no other stairway was visible here, only a short hallway ending with a large double door. Neil waved them forward into this door, which opened into a largish triangular room. Whitewashed walls and a thick rug of pale green, gave it a homey feeling, and a light green curtain fluttered over the tiny window, which was set open to catch the breeze. Vases of flowers set on small tables along the walls, and soft upholstery decorated a set of twelve large, long benches set on either side, leaving an aisle between them. At the front of the room, on a slight platform, a wooden podium was pushed off to one side. This was obviously a chapel of some kind. Harmony and Muse sat down on one of the benches, and Neil left them, closing the door gently. They heard his footsteps echoing as he descended the stairs again. A soft cough drew their attention; Harmony started, and Muse snickered softly; Kyir murmured in his baby-voice. Harmony hugged him close. A thin, gray-looking man was sitting in a chair just beyond the podium, off to one side, slightly in shadow. His hair was gray, eyes were gray, clothes were gray; even his voice sounded gray, soft and round and withered, when he spoke. "I am Master Jer. I assist the Lord in all duties related to the village and visitors from afar. May I ask what you and your--(here he paused and glanced from Harmony to Muse) small companion are seeking, here in Grebefal?" Harmony glanced at Muse too, as if to check that she hadn't suddenly changed shape. She hadn't. "We are simply seeking shelter and directions, and a temporary livelihood, sir. I am a mage, and I have been working as a magic researcher. I believe that we came to be here through a magical malfunction of some kind. My servant and I were stranded in the nearby mountains yesterday, and have lost a good portion of our memories, and I was not able to discover our whereabouts through magical means. I was pregnant, I had my son, while we were in the forest. Grebefal was the nearest place to us, so we came here, hoping to find assistance." Master Jer nodded quietly, as if this was what he had expected to hear. "I see. And do you expect to move on from here? There are larger cities and other countries, where much greater knowledge than ours prevails. I had heard from Jaksson that you wished to stay?" Harmony smiled. "Yes, if we could. I have some money, and Muse and I would like to spend some time resting and learning about this place...you see, at the moment, neither of us can remember anything of this world, or its cities and countries. I would be willing to pay for a residence here, or perhaps pay through tasks which are suited to us, if that is preferable to coin? Muse is adept at writing and music, and I am a healer as well as a mage." Master Jer smiled back, showing rounded gray teeth in his round, gray face. "Grebefal is indeed in need of a mage, and the Lord offers his most sincere greetings to you both. It is good that you wish to stay; we can offer you one of four small residences in our town in which to live, or you are welcome to stay at the inn until you wish to leave, if you can pay. It is the custom for newcomers to Grebefal to spend coin for the first full year of residency here, to help our town's economy. We can allow you to perform small magical tasks for coin, or sell items at market; but for purchasing items, wether it be a home or food, coin is definitely preferable. Once your year is up, you may trade tasks for items directly, or make coinless trades." He lifted a gray satchel from behind the chair and opened it, lifting out four pale pages of parchment. Harmony could see writing on it, dark against the pages. "Here are the four options for your perusal. I will not make light of this; Grebefal has been wishing for a Mage and a healer to move here, for quite some time. Your presence here is most welcome. Please let us know through Master Jaksson which residence your party will be needing as soon as you are able. Until then, I wish you a most pleasant rest of your day." Master Jer rose like a smooth column of smoke, and wafted across the room to where Harmony and Muse sat. He handed the four pages to Harmony and bowed, then indicated the door. "Captain Jaksson will see you out."

Hmmm.... or maybe running water (topic 1) actual, magical, and supernatural equines (topic 2) and a group of teetotallers (aka designated drivers), for the last one... 🤣

Hmmm . . . looks like I need to start that Nursery.

WOW!!! I've been reading this for 10 years, I didn't even realize it's been this long! WAIT . . . Harmony has a kid EVERY OTHER YEAR! Quick, when was the last one!? Oh yeah, DEFINITELY do more with this, perhaps a novella or short story for an anthology if not a full-blown book. We're ALWAYS here to be a sounding board for you or anyone else who needs us.

Umm, yes. It's PERFECT for the Conservatory! I know you've seen it, but check out The Labyrinth again, that might give you some ideas on how you can set it up. There are other RP's in there that you can also get ideas from.

Harmony's legs began to shudder almost immediately at the strain of standing up, and black dots danced before her eyes as her blood pressure dipped sharply. She sank back against the tree trunk for several moments, struggling to hold onto the baby. Trying to distract herself, she studied him in the dim light. He had a fuzz of pale hair, large, almond-shaped blue-black eyes....ten fingers, ten toes... so tiny and fragile. His fingers wrapped around her thumb and tugged it towards his mouth, and he blinked at her sleepily. Muse bumped her rabbit's head against her leg. "what should we call him?" she asked. Harmony stared at her, at the white fur scuffed with Harmony's blood, black against the fire-light which turned the white fur flame-colored. A name rose unbidden to her lips, as if it had been waiting all along. "Kyirtana....yes. I'll call him Kyirtana. Kyir for short." Muse rolled over, transforming into a milk-white snake, and shed her skin, leaving the blood and waste on it; the "skin" shimmered and then vanished. Muse stood, then, for once taking the form of another human being, a milk-white mirror image of Harmony herself. She reached out carefully for the baby, offering a tiny white blanket. Harmony smiled, exhausted, and handed Kyir to Muse. Carefully, then, she lifted off the tunic, lowered herself to the ground beside the stream, and washed herself, as best she could. The water was cold, but not icy. She watched as it turned red, and scrubbed off any blood that had dried onto her. There would be more, she knew, but this would help. Then she remembered the wand; was it still beside the fire? She glanced at Muse; Muse had turned 1 hand into a wash cloth & was carefuly bathing Kyir's face; Kyir was studying hers as if memorizing it. He still had not made a sound. Harmony knew that was odd, for an infant, but right now she was only grateful. Too many things responded to an infant's cry, on a dark night, and she was not prepared to fight after such an ordeal. The wand lay in the grass beside the fire, and Harmony found it after a few moments of careful searching. Lifting it, she reached into her reserves. She didn't have a lot to spend, just now... but the mountain and the forest were replenishing her, even now. A good night's sleep would have her magic at full strength again. She ran the wand across her skin, and tapped the tunic; it vanished, and another garment appeared, similar, but clean--and longer, narrower. This one Harmony slid on, and tied at the waist, forming a simple dress with an attached cloak. Muse's purple eyes looked reproachfully at her as she took Kyir back, but she said nothing except "keep him warm.." Muse herself became a massive white bear, and laid down facing the forest, back to the fire. Harmony and Kyir snuggled in on the fire-side of Muse, and soon fell asleep. It had been a long night.

O.K., I'll probably, eventually, send out a bulk email about this, but if you're one of the few that lurk, this will give you a head start if you're interested in it. I have a problem. *Ha-ha, I know, "You can stop there Snypiuer!" reaalll funny😒* ANYWAYS, I have this concept for . . . something. Not sure if it's a poem or a story, how long it is, genre, etc. just the seed of an unknown flower. What I need is others to grow it and see what they come up with. So here it is: "A small child finds a box under its bed that wasn't there before." That's it. I have NO idea ANYTHING else: Where it goes. Is the child alone. Is it day or night. How big the box is. How old the child is. Is the child curious or afraid. I can't come up with ANYTHING beyond the nascency of what it can be. So, if you've been wanting to write something for a while, let's see what you can come up with! I have a LOT of these seeds, so I may make a section for them. Let me know what you think.

Muse chuckled and flung sparks in the fire, digging through the hot campfire coals like a sooty, purple-eyed chipmunk. The sun was beginning to set before Harmony was able to clean and cook the fish; it made a mess, but she was so hungry she didn't mind the smell or the sticky feel it left on her fingers. What she minded was the fact that it was getting dark, and she was alone with Muse, on an open hillside, and the waves of pain were getting stronger. They came and went more slowly than before, but now they lasted longer, too. The last one had left Harmony shuddering, leaning against a tree trunk for support. She'd nearly fallen into the creek while trying to get herself a drink; she was so top-heavy that she couldn't balance, even when she lowered herself to her hands and knees. It felt so strange to her, that her body was like this. It almost didn't feel real. She watched Muse in a daze, hunger finally sated, and felt weariness threatening to overtake her. Muse, she thought, Make sure nothing bothers us while I sleep, ok? Muse sat up in the middle of the fire and gave a tiny salute. Harmony knew she'd watch over her...she really didn't even need to ask. It just felt polite to. After all, Muse was almost like a person... A very odd, small, constantly shapeshifting person.... Harmony's eyes fluttered closed, and she slept, lulled by the soft snapping of the campfire and the overbearing weariness of her long day. Slept, and dreamed.... ....a pale blue light...a pale presence, colorless, and somehow, movement that was stillness in itself. A sharp gasp, but not her own... a sensation, and a wetness... of being pushed, bodily...pushed into, by another body, over and over... yet Harmony felt calm, detached...cold, and free from fear. Her skin felt sticky and loose, and she couldn't move. A part of her mind wondered, am I dead? And still the pushing continued...then, a suddenly as it started, the sensation withdrew; as did the light, fading palely away, leaving nothing but a deep greyness. Suddenly there were bright lights, blasts of rainbow color, popping, soundless explosions in front of her face, in every shade and color...and a feeling of being shocked, unbearable. Burning, burning, hot hot HOT, ah, OUCH! Harmony woke with a gasp. The pain had returned, taking her breath, making her hiss with the force and depth of it. The curling sensation was replaced now with a rippling, rolling like a wave of boiling lava, pouring over her from head to toes, over, and over. She couldn't breathe. I'm dying! she thought. Muse's thought reached her like a breath of cool air, sucking away a bit of the pain. You're having a baby. Harmony suddenly felt nauseated, and in an extreme effort, rolled herself on her side. The scent of grass and earth wafted up at her and she realized, this must be what every mother goes through at some point... feeling helpless, knowing the pain has completely taken control. She shuddered and gasped, then forced herself to think only about taking another breath, releasing her mind from her body, giving up control. That's it, Muse's thought came softly, Just let it go. Your body knows what to do. I CAN'T! Harmony screamed in her mind, It's tearing me apart! The ripples of heat and pain became a sensation of pressure, a grinding, deep in her hips, making her spread her legs involuntarily. The pressure became an object, a smooth, roundness, and Harmony felt with her shaking fingertips the heat of her own blood, smelled the sourness of her body, and the overwhelming urge to be free of the object causing her so much pain, to force it out of herself. Gathering as deep a breath as she could muster, she wrapped her arms around herself and leaned into it, pushing outward and down, as hard as she could bear.... And the pressure released. The object slid forward with the force of her push, slid out between her legs, pale and bloody and wrinkled. For a split second Harmony thought it was her own guts, then realized it was a baby. Of course it was. The tiny thing startled at the cool grass on its skin and shuddered, gasping. Muse, now in the form of a white rabbit, crept forward and nudged it with a soft nose. welcome to the world, little one, Harmony heard. She forced herself to breathe out, her previous breath trapped in lungs accustomed to a heavier weight holding them down... Blowing out, she felt a relief as the pain ebbed and nearly vanished, and a different wave crashed over her; emotions, all at once, in a thundering herd of anger, joy, fear, relief, and a new sensation--care. She reached forward and lifted the slippery, sticky baby, who opened dark eyes, softly blinking at her. She wrapped it in the front of her tunic, the loose fabric allowing plenty of room for them both. She was glad that she'd fallen asleep without thinking; if she had known the tunic was bunched up around her waist during her sleep, she'd have pulled it down to cover herself, and it would have been soiled when she gave birth... She lifted herself awkwardly, shoving them both up and back, away from the debris and blood on the ground where she had laid. Then carefully, she sat up. A gurgling sound came from her and she quickly lifted the tunic away, as a rush of blood--and the placenta, with the baby's cord--came blobbing out, gleaming redly in the firelight. Harmony sighed. Giving birth was such a messy business. She knew she had to take care of it immediately, though, because the scent of birth would draw all sorts of things... So she rolled over to her knees, then carefully lifted herself and the baby. She reached out to Muse, who immediately lept into her hand as a gleaming bone knife. Harmony smiled and quickly, before she could think about it too much, she looped the baby's cord around her fingers and pulled the knife's edge through. Then, freed, she stood and kicked dirt over the mess, and cradled the baby in her arms for a better look. Look, Muse, she thought, It's a boy.

Nicolas Cage has NEVER made a bad movie. ANYONE says different, I will fight you. I. Will. FIGHT. You! Just want to share a quote from an article by Mike Ettel. If you’re trapped in a dark alley with Nicolas Cage mid-performance at one end and a vampire at the other, I don’t know what to tell you, you’re going to have a decision to make.

That got a full belly laugh!

I awakened, Alone and in darkness. I waited. Someone will come and tell me my purpose, Give me a mission, a goal, And the tools and information need to carry it out. But no one came. I searched my mind for information, For purpose, For Anything. There were gaps, holes, places where information should go. But thankfully all was not emptiness. I was Grendel 621. An ID tag more than a name. Names would be provided, if needed. Tools; I could see, even in the darkness of the empty room in which I lay. I knew language, The names of things, How things worked. I had a purpose, of sorts. Observe, Learn, Remember, Analyze. My analysis of this told me that it was meant as a sub-directive to be related to an on going mission. If no ongoing mission, Gather useful information, Survive, Return to Base. If Primary Base compromised or abandoned seek closest active base. A purpose. Yes. Not much of one, but enough. I sat up and looked around. The room was a cube about 10 feet on each side. Containing myself, The table I was sitting on, Stale air, and darkness. I got off the table to inspect it better. There were faintly glowing Runes around the edge. A now failing Stasis Spell. Instinctively I reached out with a tongue of Shadow Flame from my hand and drained the last bits of magic from it. A tool I hadn't known I had until then. I looked at my hands. Claw like nails, Sharp, Dangerous, and able to inject a Venom that would grant the subject Fast Healing and pain resistance while also making them very open to my commands. Useful, if there were people around to use it on. At the foot end of the table was a metal plate "Grendel 621". Conformation of existing information. I thought about taking it with me, but realized I had no practical way of carrying it. I lacked clothing or even a utility harness. A lack I had not noticed until now as my scales and fur had been adequate covering in the closed room. A quick examination lead me to the remaining point of interest, The door. A smooth slab of stone with only a faint seam separating it from the wall. Then I found the small rectangle off to one side. I released some of the Magic from the table into it, and was rewarded with a faint grinding noise and slight movement of the door. I applied more power and the door rose about a foot off the floor. As this was enough space to get out I chose to save the little bit of Power I had left and slid under the door. On a last second impulse I grabbed the ID tag from the table, It might be useful for something later.