Wyvern

The news camera visuals go through several crooked frequencies before maintaining a focus on the walls of CheerMynx’s bedroom HQ, which are hardly recognizable given the odd and extravagant decorations that they’ve been put through. The left half of the cheerline’s quarters is a mess of haphazard pompoms and empty booze bottles, illuminated under the blood red glow of several lava lamps assorted randomly. The right half of the Almost Intern’s quarters, on the other hand, contains only a small refrigerator adjacent to a well-organized table of diet foods and non-fat sodas. The two lonely items are lit under the pale white hue of a fluorescent light, which also highlights a plain boyband poster on the wall detailing some handsome-yet-boring elf dressed all in white. At the center of the room, CheerMynx’s bed sheets have been layered with dark fabrics, and her bedpost has been wrapped in tinfoil so that the centerpiece bears a vague resemblance to a throne. Wyvern sits cross-legged in the middle of said centerpiece, bouncing up and down a bit in excitement as he shifts a cardboard sword scabbard back and forth between his claws. “Ah! Greetingsssss.” Wyvern lifts his head and grins towards the cameras, the red and white lights of the room revealing his outfit in full. The overgrown lizard’s bare chest of scales has been dyed a slightly lighter shade of red to resemble a suit of shifting red armor, and his cheeks are dotted with hand drawn scars that look suspiciously like geld doodles. Wyvern adjusts the ring of barbed wire tied around his horns, then squeals in an excited and unprofessional manner. “Welcome t’Wet Dreams: th’Astral Appreciation Hour, an alternative piece of programming brought to yee by the Almossst Report. In our belated celebration of Zadown’s birthday, we’ll give you the latessst gossip on Astral heros, the full scoop on Chaotic fashionsss and of course plenty of ssspin-off products to sink your ward breakers into. But firssst, a look at the Balance forecast and a few tips on how you free-wheeling planeswalkers might be able to tip the scales.” Wyvern scoots his way off of the bed and wanders to the refrigerator, snatching the balance scales that rest there for calculating the proper number of diet servings per meal. He glances at the scales with a look of disdain, then carries them over to the other side of the room where he sets them on a jumbled pile of pompoms and beauty products. “Medium to medium-high balance today, but nothing that can’t be counteracted with a few sssneaky toolsss.” Wyvern grins as he pulls a small statue of a fat laughing Buddha from between two fluffy pompoms. The reptilian Elder raises the Happybuddha statue with some effort so that the cameras can see it, then sets it on the left half of the scales. The scales promptly topple over and break. “Errr, asss you can see, a figure of the proper weight and stature can tilt the scales to the max. Ssspeaking of which, I’d also like to send a belated happy birthday to Happybuddha, who has generally been underused by planeswalkers in their mystic campaigns. Here’s hoping that the weight of your power will be discovered and used more in the future, 'Buddha.” Wyvern winks towards the cameras, then tightens the barbed wire on his horns and seats himself back on the edge of CheerMynx’s throne-bed. Once he’s comfortably seated, he strikes a toothy grin and reaches for his cardboard sword scabbard. “And now, it’sss time for the Dreamer trivia part of our show, where one lucky contessstant can win an Almost Dragonic Brand Maiden of Daggers Bobblehead™ for being the firssst caller to answer our ‘Wet Dream’ quessstion of the week.” Wyvern pulls a cheap plastic sword from his scabbard and presses a little button on its hilt, evoking a soft mechanical screaming sound. We waves the sword in the air a bit and presses the button until it gets stuck and the screaming sound starts skipping incessantly. “*Ahem* Callers, have your incantations ready. The Dreamer trivia question of the week is: what role did Marchello play in the Dreamer story ‘Descent’?” Wyvern tosses his plastic sword to the side with a frown and reaches behind the throne bedpost, pulling out a cheap-looking copper chalice with the words “Holee Grale” smeared across it in red. He begins pouring a bottle of Bruteweiser into the chalice as he turns his eyes back towards the cameras. “While we’re waitin’ for callersss, I’d just like to sssay Rest in Peace to Gary Gygax, one of the original roleplayers. Check what people are sssaying about him in the Cabaret.” Wyvern takes a long sip from his Holee Grale and raises it to the cameras. “And be sure to ssstay tuned for more ‘Wet Dreams,’ right here on the Almost Report.”

"Oh excccellent." Wyvern looks over the exterior of the folder from all angles, measuring its corners and dimensions with his claws in what could have passed for an Almost Dragonic Brand Pantomime Routine™. "Yes, yesss, this folder will be perfect for filing thingsss like rejected Pen applications. Thanks a bunch, Ciri! Sssay though... how did you know I like bribes?" Wyvern eyes Ciri suspiciously for a moment as she smiles a bit and shrugs her shoulders. He twirls the end of his tail in his claw and glances around at the rest of the bar with an Almost Dragonic Brand Even Dirtier Look™, causing the surrounding pennites to go back to minding their own beverages. Wyvern rubs his claws together and seats himself next to Ciri, striking another full grin and looking her in the eyes. "Now then, sssince I really think you should apply and since you've handed me this neat folder gift as your application, I think it's safe to say that we're ready to discuss the ssstrings attached to this acceptance." Wyvern shuffles through the original pages dropped by Rici and traces a claw down the words while Ciri frowns. He stops at a certain passage and taps it twice, almost tearing a hole in the page in the process. "Says here that you've had temporary employment as the center of the universe. Issat accurate?" "Well." Ciri stares into her drink in a somewhat bashful manner and runs a finger around the edge of her glass. "I suppose, but-" "Ah perfect!" Wyvern snickers to himself and extends a wing so that his conversation with Ciri will be a bit more private. "Lisssten, there'sss this product called Almost Dragonic Brand Universal Tentacle-Removing Q-Tips™ that I've been trying to market, but I'm lacking a spokesperson to give the product the right promotional push. Sssince you were once the center of the universe, you could give the universal assspect of the product quite a salesss pitch. That is, if you'd be willing to sssponsor it? You'd be working without a sssalary, of course. But consider it wisely... the fate of your application may depend on it." Wyvern nudges Ciri with a wink, and opens his mouth to go on about the work hours and geld revenue required of the position. His hissing is interrupted, however, as many of the politer pennites sitting at the bar clear their throats loudly in unison. "*Grumble* ... oh alright, fine." Wyvern snorts to himself and stamps Ciri's application folder ACCEPTED. He glances at her and breaths a smoky-smelling sigh. "You're ACCEPTED whether or not you choose to take up the sssponsorship position... but still be sure to consider it, alright?!" ;-) OOC: While I realize that you still have a story you'd very much like to share, I'm ACCEPTING this RP exchange as your application Ciri. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! I'm really looking forward to reading your story (which you should now post in the Assembly Room) and anything else you have to offer us in terms of your writing. I also think you did an awesome job of roleplaying on the spot in this thread, and am really looking forward to more off-the-cuff RPing with you in the future! I'm sure we'll be seeing much more of each other here, but for now I'd just like to once again welcome you to the Pen! I hope you find it a very friendly and welcoming community of creative-minded individuals.

Moving to new locations and leaving old friends behind can definitely be a tough thing to deal with, and as someone who's moved around a bunch I greatly sympathize with the theme of this poem Kikuyu. :-) As you note in the second to last stanza, it's important to remember that many of the bonds will "never truly sever," and that you'll probably have opportunities to see each other again in the future. I like the way you wrote the poem, with the third stanza about "minotaurs to ninjas to a man named D" standing out to me for its personal details. I could hear the crying refrain put to music as well. Anyway, thanks for sharing this here Kikuyu... I hope that you're doing well, and that these thoughts of distance haven't got you too down.

A deep snoring echoes across the walls and paper stacks of the Recruiter's Office, its sound slightly muffled by the position of a Naughty Nymph magazine on top of Wyvern's sleeping snout. The reptilian Elder snorts awake as the rustle of paperwork and fallen books drifts from the hall outside the Office, the combination of sounds suggesting fresh new marketing prey for Almost Dragonic Products. Wyvern brushes the magazine off of his face and grumbles to himself with a sleepy smack of his lips, reaching for a bottle of Bruteweiser and downing the last fourth of it as a wake-up call. He shifts his feet from their position on his desktop and hops out of his chair, maneuvering past an obstacle course of crumpled scheme piles before arriving at his closed Office door. The overgrown lizard presses the side of his head against the door to try to listen to what the new prey might be saying, then lowers his eyes to Woody's keyhole only to have the Office door block his line of sight with a fragment of wood. Wyvern growls and tries pushing on Woody the Office door's handle to greet the prey, only to find him as jammed and uncooperative as ever. "Dammit Woody!" Wyvern hisses and kicks the Office door. He yelps at the feel of a strategically placed splinter, then clenches his teeth and flaps his wings once to let off some steam. "Fine! I'll continue to do thisss the hard way, as usssual." Wyvern hops on one foot to the Office window on the other side of the room, almost slipping on some sheets of paper detailing designs for Almost Dragonic Brand Extra-Firm Slippers™ in the process. The overgrown lizard squeezes his way out of the window, crawls down the wall into the Pen's Courtyard with a clumsy slip or two, then marches around to the entrance of the Pen Keep and enters through the front door. He storms down the halls of the Keep in an agitated state, passing by a woman in a large cloak without so much as a glance and eventually arriving at the other side of his Office door. Wyvern kicks Woody the Office door from the other side and stubs his toe with a yelp, then kneels down to inspect the mysterious trail of papers that seems to have been left by his latest prey. He picks up each sheet and reads them with increasing curiousity, calculating the value of the crystalline sphere and the fees that Rici might charge for counseling in his head. He pauses when the trail of papers finally ends at Ciri, who is seated at the Pen's Cabaret bar awaiting a drink. "'Sssscuse me." Wyvern clears his throat of a few ashes. "Wyvern, nice to meetcha. You mussst beeee..." Wyvern shuffles through the collected papers in his claws, tearing at their edges a bit in the process. "Ciri!" Wyvern claps his claws together. "Welcome to the Pen. Lissssten, I don't sss'pose there might be any chance that you'd be willing to let me consssider these pages as a Pen application? I mean, I see in here that yer thinking of not applying, but I think thisss would more than suffice as an application... with only a few of the necesssary strings attached, of course." Wyvern strikes a grin full of razor-sharp teeth and rubs his claws together, shadowing Ciri a bit with his wings...

An excellent teaser for your new story, Tralla, I love it so far! :-D The concept of a budding lycanthrope learning of her new urges in a veterinary clinic is very creative and original, and really captured my imagination. The scene that you set at the clinic is vivid in its depiction of the process of giving animals shots, with some details drawn from personal experience I'm sure. ;-) The way that Jack's thoughts about the animal gradually become more feral was very nicely done, and really got me curious about the direction that the story was taking. Its refreshing to read a story in such a unique and unusual setting, and I hope that you continue to incorporate the vet as Jack comes to terms with her ailment (IF she comes to terms with it). The only part of this initial post that I didn't like quite as much was the last line, which is cute but kind of drains the dramatic impact of the three lines that precede it. Anyway, I'm really looking forward to a continuation to this and enjoyed this first segment thoroughly. Great to read something new from you, Tralla! It's a pleasure to have you back. :-)

Wyvern glances up at the snap of CheerMynx's claws only to gape straight into her ample breasts, which hang in front of his snout as she bends down to see if he's paying attention. The overgrown lizard chokes as he gets a taste of what being part of the Oscar paparrazi must feel like, his brain desperately trying to register her sentence by overriding the image of her cleavage as it tests the limits of her torn gown. He finally gets a grip when her tail accidentally swats against his snout, and scrambles to his feet as CheerMynx straightens herself with a huff and a frown. "Ch-ch-cheerMynx! Of courssse I'm listening, WELCOME BACK! Here, jussst sit back down a moment, we'll fix this right up." Wyvern lets out a squeal of glee as he watches CheerMynx seat herself again, overwhelmed by the very sight of her. He stamps his foot down and claps his claws twice. "Spinky! Puffdrag! Get over here and give our favorite cheerline the pampering she dessserves. Errr, jussst 'ixnay on the essdray' for now, OK?" Wyvern taps his foot as he waits for the troglyodyte make-up artists to arrive, gulping as he watches CheerMynx cross her legs and lean back in the reclining chair again. The overgrown lizard clears his throat loudly and tears his eyes away from the attractive sight for a moment to gather his thoughts in his excited state, ignoring the news crew as they arrive and begin straightening CheerMynx's fur and doing her nails. "CheerMynxie, really, I misssed you soooooooo much!" Wyvern pauses and coughs as he notices that the cheerline is casually rocking her right leg back and forth in front of her while Spinky and Puffdrag work their make-up magic. He shakes his head in the hopes of keeping himself focussed. "S-s-seriously, it hasn't been the sssame without you... I was about to resort to giving a troglyodyte a pair o' mop heads jussst to add a lil' cheer to the Report again." Wyvern pauses and fidgets with his claws as he watches CheerMynx move her right leg up and down to rub at an itch on her other leg. He clears his throat and opens his mouth to say something, only to lose his voice as CheerMynx slowly slides her right leg up from its position and tilts it to the side. Wyvern goes bug-eyed as the cheerline spreads her legs wide apart, revealing... Snuffles, who rests peacefully in front of CheerMynx's torn silver dress. The kitten minion stretches a bit and hops onto the arm of the reclining chair just as CheerMynx crosses her left leg over her right, much to the jittering Wyvern's disappointment. "*Ahehe-hem* A-a-anyway, I'm sssorry f-for th'm-mishaps, w-we'll be sure to g-give you a fan ward next time ya h-head out to an Oscar event." Wyvern digs his tail stinger into Tralla's rug nervously. "I uhh, heard a r-rumor you got sssome offers from some other s-sponsors n'stuff. I just wanna say th-that before you accept anything that would pull you away from the Report, I'd be happy to-" "Uhhm, Wyv?" CheerMynx tilts her head up as the make-up crew dries her hair and puts some finishing touches on her nails. Snuffles squints from his armrest with a glum twitch of his whiskers. "Like, your fly." "Who? Him?" Wyvern points to a butterfly resting on his shoulder and promptly brushes it off, waving at it to go away. "Don't worry, we're not acquainted." "No, Wyvie." CheerMynx lets out a little sigh and motions downward with her paw, turning her eyes towards the ceiling for a moment despite it making no difference given Snuffles' stare. "Like, your other fly." "Oh... OH!" Wyvern bites his lip and goes a deeper shade of red, reaching down and fumbling with his safari pants until the zipper is back in its proper position. "Ahaha! *AHEM* Hah. L-l-l-lisssten CheerMynx, j-just to show you how much we appreciate you on the Report, I'd be willing to-" Wyvern is interrupted as the troglyodyte make-up crew help CheerMynx to her feet, escorting her to a portable dressing curtain that has been pulled out with a white bath robe type thing hanging from it. Wyvern curses quietly to himself, then raises a claw to his snout to call after her. "I'm gonna raise your Almost Intern Fashion Fund to 10% of earnings!" Wyvern cringes at the thought of the financial impact for a moment, then raises a claw to his snout again. "I mean, at least for a limited time only or something." ;-)

Interesting story thus far, E.S Raynes-MacLeod. :-) I like the idea and set-up that you've created here, with Lylith's labs being presented as a common farm and the family situation with Kane being unaware of his sister's experiments. The revelation of lightning striking the facility during the storm from Kane was a cool twist, and I like the ominous mood that you've set around the sleepers of the facility... particularly Jason, who seems to be all doom and gloom concerning the situation. I'm looking forward to seeing what direction you take the story in, and am especially curious about the mysterious shadow figure that seems to be giving Lylith the shivers. In terms of potential things you could improve upon in the continuation or in future revisions, one thing that I longed for a bit in this segment was more descriptive details to draw me in to the setting and characters. Some of the initial barn details were nice, but they kind of peetered out when it came to the facility and the characters. A few distinguishable details for each of the characters and a bunch of details to draw us into the halls of the facility would be awesome, particularly if they showed the time period of the setting a bit more. Another thing that you might consider expanding upon is the family interplay going on between Lylith and Kane... I found Lylith's fear of letting Kane in on her experiments very interesting, and wondered where it stemmed from. Perhaps if we had more insight into the thoughts and feelings of Lylith, the relationship element would become more prominent. I was admittedly disappointed with Kane's reaction to seeing the experimental facility for this reason, though I'm interested in seeing how you develop the story and his character from here. Thanks for sharing this story, E.S Raynes-MacLeod, and welcome to the Pen! :-) I'm looking forward to seeing more writing from you, and hope we can have a chance to collaborate on creative things in the future as well!

Darkness dissipates from the camera lenses in what looks like the silhouettes of a thousand tiny flapping wings. The cameras pan across a wide spacious room with large windows that let the sun flow in, getting a clear shot of the extra fluffy brown carpet design before stopping to focus on a large chair with a red and white figure strewn across it. Wyvern sniffles to himself and tips up the brim of his white hunting cap, only to twist his snout and pounce back onto his feet as he spots the news cameras moving in. “Oh *aherm* err, was just takin a little, y’know, observation lesson. Welcome to the Almost Report!” Wyvern strikes the toothiest grin he can muster and stretches his arms out like an enthusiastic game show host in an attempt to save face, ruffling the already-wrinkled white fabrics of his suburban safari attire. He turns so that the cameras can get a clear view of the pole and net strung to his back, and he flaunts them like a third wing. “Sssince Tralla’s been prancing out and about at the Pen as of late, we figured we’d take this opportunity to invade her personal ssspace for our weekly Pen quarter exclusssive. Hope ya dig her beautiful view of the courtyard as much as I dug napping in her deluxe lounging chair.” Wyvern winks to the cameras, then turns and wanders up to one of the large windows of the chamber in all its sunlit glory. He signals to a troglyodyte news set person, who proceeds to ring a chime that sends troglyodytes racing back and forth through Tralla’s quarters in preparation for something. Wyvern casually flicks the lock on Tralla’s window up with a twist of his claw, and faces the camera once the news crew commotion has settled. “In current ssspecial Pen events, we have a birthday or two to belatedly celebra-” Wyvern pulls Tralla’s window open a nudge, only to fall back as a swarm of beautiful rainbow butterflies soars in and clouds the entire room with its vast array of colors. The news cameras catch Wyvern frantically waving his net around before losing sight of the action in the swarm. They refocus several minutes later once the volume has died down a bit, passing by Wyvern’s broken butterfly net and watching the lizard as he races by with his claws in the air. Butterflies of all shapes and colors flutter through Tralla’s room in a more peaceful manner, pausing ever so often on her stacks of papers and unsorted photographs. “A belated Happy Birthday to you, Annael!” Wyvern pants and gives up on trying to catch the butterflies, opting instead to toss a clawful of heart and star-shaped birthday confetti in the air. Several of the butterflies catch the confetti in their tiny legs and head towards the window, transporting it off to Annael’s treetop. “Hope ya had a great one and that yer doing well. Pennites in the mood for a bit of celebrating should also be sure to join the recent Cabaret drinking party in celebration of Alaeha’s birthday, and why not down a pitcher of booze for Aegon while yer at it? I'm sending a belated Happy Birthday to the two of ya!” Wyvern grins to the cameras and licks his lips at the lingering scent of Cabaret rum, then wanders through a curtain of fluttering butterflies and makes his way over to a counter with sheets of scrap paper leftover from Tralla’s rough drafts. He swipes a mostly blank sheet from the bottom of the scraps, then pulls a bleached ostrich quill from his white safari outfit and begins testing its ink on the page. “In Pen activity newsss, fine ssscribblers of prose and poetry as well as anyone who needs to rant should be sure to check out Mynx’s new Open Letters table in the Cabaret. And yesss, your letters may include odes to all types of Almost Dragonic Brand products… why, you can even sign and deliver’em to specific sssponsors!” Wyvern rubs his claws together at the thought of the potential free sponsorship campaign, then clears his throat and starts scribbling on his scrap paper. “Those who’d like to write an open letter of appreciation to a pennite can alssso continue to do so at the Love Letters table of the Cabaret, though pen people are more capable of responding.” Wyvern pauses for a moment to scribble one more thing and sign his sheet, not noticing the bright array of butterflies that have begun landing on the rim of his hat like falling flower petals. “And to wrap up thisss week’s news, Werewolf XXXIX: a Game of Wolves is now available for character sign up in the Conservatory.” Wyvern lifts his sheet of scrap paper, which contains a doodle of a wolf dressed in excessive bandit gear. “Sssign up should be open till’ around the 9th of this month, so get yer Almost Dragonic endorsed character in before that date if ya wanna join in.” Wyvern grins towards the cameras and lifts a claw to his hat so he can take it off for a finishing bow, only to find that his head is now bare. The overgrown lizard darts his eyes around Tralla’s colorful quarters until he spots a group of butterflies who are collectively carrying his hat towards the open window. The reptilian reporter raises a claw. “Hey!” Wyvern races through Tralla’s room after the butterfly thieves, tottering and losing his balance as his toes sink into the super fluffy rug. “Giveitback!”

Dear Geld, How long have we known each other for now, a good twenty fourty sixty dragon years? You've always come and gone, trading me for other people and sometimes running off and reinventing yourself, but I've always stayed a committed and faithful believer in the two of us. O geld! I had my times with silver and copper, but they sssimply don't compare. I know that there are occasionally things that come between us, like fashion funds and Orlan's reputation for claiming you, but know that there's always a little decently sized corner of my mind that dreams of the two of us relaxing in a little large enormous hord, with me spread out in your lap of luxury. I remember the first time I laid my eyes on you. It was a standard pillage of a poor sorceror's outcrop during the Mage Wars, and you were sparkling through the ashes of some former treasury. I had heard rumors about you out in my volcanic homeland and had focussed my studies on learning to identify, admire and obtain you, but nothing could have prepared me for the real thing. I remember the glint of your cool smooth skin as I brushed my claws against you, longing for more of you, tasting your metallic flavor along with what tasted like a bunch of ash and some dirt and maybe a bit of gravel. I could have buried myself right then and there if the counterattack hadn't occured, and then you were gone as quickly as I had spotted you. I knew then and there that I would ssstop at nothing* to get you back. And I schemed for you my love. O yes, I schemed! Even during the Mage Wars, I hosted films of high-elves, bottled free brew, and recorded dangerous quartet songs all in your pursuit! And after I sssettled in the Pen and learned that there was more to life than you, I still continued searching for your company, with schemes that took me even to the farthest reaches of lingerie cabinets across the Keep (which I admittedly would have explored anyway). I love your golden hue in every form imaginable, be it in those perfect little coin formations that I always crave, in statues and dust, in chocolate wrapping or skimpy cheerleader outfits bordering on lingerie (which I admittedly would have desired anyway). Your possibilities are as endless as my inspiration, which... is not endless. But I love ya anyway, ya big hunk of gold spin-off product! Thank you for keeping me company late evenings when by candlelight I've counted you in careful stacks. Thank you for helping me decide what to invest in in my schemes by showing me either Heads or Tails. And thank you thank you THANK YOU for allowing CheerMynx to stay on top of her game (which I admittedly would have followed regardless), remind me to give that gal a raise at some point! Just hopefully not some point in the really near near fairly close relatively close future. I do still like spending time with you geld.. don't you ever abandon me again! Dictated but not read, Wyvern * 'cept succubi. --- Wyvern sets his open introductory letter down along with several thousand pages detailing open letters to each individual geld piece, then scampers off in search of... well, you know.

Two films that stood out to me recently: "Be Kind Rewind" - Finally, a Michel Gondry film that delivers in full. Don't get me wrong, both "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" and "The Science of Sleep" were very good movies with original ideas and directions, but neither of them quite lived up to the massive hype that was built around them in my book. "Be Kind Rewind" is Gondry's third film, and is his best to date in my opinion. The plot premise alone should clue you in to how delightfully original this movie is: an employee put in charge of a VHS video store panics when his electro-magnetized friend accidentally erases all of the tapes in the store, and they decide to cover it up by re-enacting the films and recording them when people request to rent them. What results is not only an hilarious and quirky homage to films like "Ghostbusters" and "Driving Miss Daisy," but also a strangely touching commentary on the film-making process and the way that we can personally associate with movies. With a cast like Jack Black and Mos Def, you wouldn't exactly think that this film would amount to more than a simple comedy, but it does. And those who liked Gondry's unique brand of cardboard cut-out special effects in "Science of Sleep" will be pleased to see the motif revisited here, this time in the form of makeshift film props. Anyway, I laughed and shed a few tears in this movie, and it dazzled me with its originality and execution... I've only managed to see it via online bootleg so far, but plan to revisit it in the theater next weekend. Recommended. "Gone Baby Gone" - An interesting and thought-provoking movie. It's not extraordinarily well-acted or directed, but it's far from amateur film-making and has a very interesting story and plotline. The movie revolves around the kidnapping of the 6 year old child of a crackhead mother living under her brother in a low income neighborhood, and the police and private eye that go out investigating her kidnapping. It has its shares of twists and turns, and presents a haunting moral dilemma near the end. I have difficulty deciding whether the protagonist made the right choice at the end, really too hard to call... the concept has stuck with me because of that. Having Morgan Freeman as the chief of police and the excellent Ed Harris as one of the police investigators certainly didn't hurt the movie's rep either. This film is also apparently the directorial debut of Ben Affleck, and while it's not exactly a work of vision on the directorial front, he didn't muck it up either as it stands on its own amongst other Hollywood flicks. Way better than "American Gangster," in my opinion, though a little depressing. Check it out

Excellent poem, meowmarino. :-) The structure and phrasing are both great, with lots of colorful vocabulary and plenty of unique details that stand out to me. One thing that I really appreciate about this poem is that it's not predictable in the least, which keeps its direction and subject matter very interesting the whole way through. My favorite part of the poem was probably the final stanza, where the intriguing themes of location and identity in the poem are tied together with the sun rise observation. The whole poem was well done, though... I really like the "pohutakawas" in the second stanza, though the reference to the second person of the stanza as "buddy" at the end threw me off at first. Looking at it again, it is interesting in its placement there for the way that the line reads by itself. Anyway, this is very well done meowmarino. :-) Thanks for sharing it here, and welcome to the Pen!

"Mrf, MMPH, sssooo good." Wyvern rubs his snout against the empty plate again in a futile search for any scraps he may have missed. He curls his tongue around his claws for a moment to soak in the leftover grease. Falcon2001 watches in a somewhat bewildered state, having not managed to touch any of the food let alone taste it. An extra loud stomach grumble causes Falcon to jump, and he looks towards Wyvern with a blank expression on his face. "Barmaid!" Wyvern slams his claw down on the table several times, raising the plate in a clatter. He pats his growling stomach as the waitress approaches, his eyes following the front of her apron the entire time. "Yeah, I'd like to order another cheessseburger and another round of fries and some curly onion cheese doodles on the ssside please. Oh, and a kid's meal for my friend here." Wyvern cocks a claw back at Falcon. "Ooookay." The barmaid takes a step back, reluctant to get close to the lizard given his rude stare and ruder eating habits. "W-will that be all sir?" "Well, if yer gonna put it that way, might as well make it a triple decker cheeseburger." Wyvern grins toothily and slides his forked tongue over his lips. "Sssay, what do you make these burgers with anyway? They're pretty damn good!" The barmaid pauses and pulls out a list of ingredients from her smock. "Well, we use the finest dwarven buns, and the patties are made from 100% grade-A narrative beast. And the special sauce is a secret." Wyvern nods and watches the barmaid's rear as she wanders off, reaching into his mouth to pick at a few tiny hands that seem to be radiating in all directions between his teeth.

A blurry image of what may or may not be a cylinder of some sort appears on screens across the Pen, interrupting Cabaret bulletins and important collect crystal ball incantations everywhere. The news cameras pan out a bit to reveal that the image is in fact a photograph in the midst of being developed. Some clarity begins seeping into the image after an extensive wait, but the photo never fully develops, left at a half-hazy image of a gray roll labeled “Almost Dragonic Brand Photo Developing Solu-” with some additional letters too faded to read. The cameras back up more as a scaly claw reaches down and plucks the photograph from its clothespin, revealing Wyvern wearing a protective plastic suit and a set of infared goggles that barely fit his snout. “Greetingsss, it’s Almost Report time as usual at the Mighty Pen Keep.” Wyvern flails about a bit as he moves through the scarce lighting of the darkroom, his infared goggles providing little help considering the lack of warm bodied creatures in the vicinity. The overgrown lizard gets a line of hanging photographs caught in his wings as he fumbles through the room. “Thisss *urmph* evening, we’re reporting to you live from the *oomph* th’photo develop-*ack*-ing chamber of Silver Wind’s quarters in the hopes of belatedl-*eeeEEee*-y celebrating her birthday. Happy Birthday, Silver Wind! B-day fessstivities are ssstill going *argh* on in the Cabaret Room for anyone who wants to join in *clonk.* I also got her a *clang* got her a *ow!* got her *riiiip* ahhh ssscrew it, just give it a camera shot!” Wyvern steps out from the darkroom into the well-lit study area of Silver Wind’s quarters, moving by piles of accumulated poetry drafts as he lifts the Almost Dragonic Brand Furry Nature Camera Lens™ (made with 50% live squirrel) so that the cameras can see it. He sets the odd-looking circular object on the top of a teetering pile of poetic imagery sheets, gift-wrap ribbon and all. “In further newsss, Almost Intern fans will be disappointed to hear that CheerMynx will be absent from the Report for a bit longer than expected. We don’t have much to go by other than rumors at this point, but apparently the cheerline was held up by a gang of publicists and modeling agentsss during her recent makeover trip.” Wyvern breathes a wistful sigh and turns his eyes to a study wall on the right. The cameras swerve in that direction to reveal an enlarged glossy photograph of CheerMynx’s face with one of her unmistakably exuberant smiles, hanging over an expensive portrait. The overgrown lizard sidesteps his way over to the photo and slides a claw down the cheerline’s cheek affectionately, ripping it a bit in the process. “When she’ll be back depends entirely on the persssistence of the publicisssts and the number of offers she accepts, but I wanna extend my best wishes to her from everyone at the Almost Report… and yesss, that includes the camera men. Fans of CheerMynx may want to take this opportunity to send her a bit of fan mail jussst to let’er know she’sss loved, as I’m sure I speak for many when I say that I’m eagerly anticipating her return!” Wyvern lets his forked tongue hang loose from his mouth at the very thought of the Almost Intern’s return, then proceeds to wander over to the central desk of Silver Wind’s study to examine a variety of writing utensils in a mug with a dark rose emblazoned on it. He pulls a sharp quill from the mug and dips it into an adjacent inkwell, then raises it to examine it, dribbling ink on his goggles. “Ssspeaking of absent pennites, there’s a mini-reunion of sssorts for rare Pen presences going on in the Cabaret Room, at the following location.” Wyvern turns blindly and scribbles “What Happened to the Pen?” on what he assumes is a piece of paper, but which is actually an empty area of Silver Wind’s study wall. The lizard points to the unintentional graffiti with a grin. “Say hello to such venerable pennites as Falcon2001 and Valku D’ur, and don’t forget to congratulate Sssalinye and reverie for their recent accomplishments while yer at it. Eh? What’sss that?” Wyvern lifts the ink-blotted infared goggles as a nearby troglyodyte whispers something a bit louder, and turns to find his leaky graffiti on Silver Wind’s otherwise pristine white wall. The overgrown lizard strikes a nervous grimace, then signals to the cameras in the hopes of covering up the vandalism as best as possible. His claw reaches for the white out on Silver Wind’s desk as the screen goes black…

Nice poem, Silver Wind. :-) I think that you have a good eye for romantic details when it comes to your natural imagery, and your descriptions of the moths here are nicely done. My favorite part of the poem is definitely the ending, though, as the change in tone with the "nightmares" on the moths' wings is an excellent twist, especially with the delicate description you give to said wings. In terms of possible things to improve, the line "so often their beauty misunderstood" irked me a little for some reason, maybe because of the grammar or maybe because the line feels like a more distant and general observation than the other lines describing the moths. Thanks for sharing this, as always Silver Wind. :-) I enjoyed reading it.

I really like this poem, Yog. :-) The "seemingly silly" rhyme schemes of the first lines of the stanzas stand out for their interesting approach, and I like the way that the subject matter gets progressively more serious as the stanzas move along. In some ways, the rhyme scheme compliments the theme of "delusions" at the end of the poem, as it feels almost too happy and perfect to be true. The rhymes all felt like very deliberate choices, though, and never really came across as corny due to the self-conscious way that they were incorporated. Nicely done, thanks for sharing this. :-)

(inspired by Zadown's latest poem and supermarket vending machines) --- $1.25 Penny etch a target to your forehead. A supermarket teen skull, bones of rebellious ideal. The finger white fist, the moon and glow heart of fake cosmos cosmetics. The bleeding yellow grin beaming over mock stitch and bruise. Smiling away the homicide, like so many emoticons on skin. The whore hickey in every shade of sparkle pink. Or the nine digits of your identity. Out in bold, like the latest bank scam or your Card Validation Code. Stamped in Braille and Binary. Permanent.

Wyvern speeds into the Cabaret Room with his snout in the air, passing by Guido and the Grim Squeaker without so much as a glance as he follows his sense of smell. He stops a few feet away from Falcon2001's table of food, taking a deep whiff of the fragrance and practically tasting the fresh meat patty with the tips of his tongue. Wyvern's tail brushes against Tralla's foot as he reaches out to snatch a couple of goodies off of Falcon's plate, starting with more-than-a-little bit of everything. He pauses at the sight of several pennites glaring at him, however, and quickly begins forming a strategy in his almost dragonic nogin. "Greetingsss all! Sssince un-idling seems to be the latest fad, I've decided to return after a grueling 12 hour absence since my lassst Pen contribution." Wyvern raises his claws to his snout and proceeds to blow kisses to the surrounding pennites. "But before you all lavish me with welcoming ceremoniesss, I'd like you to hear me out, because I have an excellent full-proof non-negotiable excuse for my absssence. So take a seat while a spin a lil yarn for ya." Wyvern inches closer to Falcon's food table and snatches one of his fries, popping it into his mouth. "So... I have thisss looonnng post all written out, right? And I'm about to put it up, but then I see Sssalinye and a gang of other notable pennites visiting, so I say to myself 'what better way to sssay hello than to send'em a long post of Almost Dragonic handwriting?'" Wyvern reaches down and carves off a piece of Falcon's burger, stuffing it into his mouth. "Mmf, good. Anyway, I fold the writing up into a paper airplane and toss it in their direction, but a wind current caused by Grimmael's flatulence makes the airplane swerve off-course and out of an open window. I race after it, barging through the Pen's garden gnome recreation center before finding it stuck in the highest leaves of Annael's tree. So, with my trusssty Almost Dragonic Brand Branch Bracers™ in hand, I decide to climb to the top of the tree in record product time. And I break said record by reaching it in only 4 hours and 7-and-a-half attempts. But as soon as I reach the top, Falcon's Reply Raven swoops down and snatches the writing in its mouth. It soars away before I can catch it, what with the Branch Bracers all tangled the way they were." Wyvern takes a long chug of the Mountain Dew tankard, spilling it over the sides of his mouth and onto his Hawaiin tunic. "Sssso, in short, the Reply Raven ate my homework... err, my possst that is. Sssay, you wouldn't happen to have seconds on those burgers would you Ozy?"

Tonight I went and saw Public Radio, Danger Zone, Nu Dekades, and Can't Find a Villain at Blake's on Telegraph in Berkeley. Aside from the fairly close distance of the venue, my main motivation for getting out to this show was the group Danger Zone, which features Ohio MC Bru Lei of Spitball on vocals. He's a good MC and I'd never had the chance to see him perform live, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity to get better acquainted with his stage show. This was also my first time seeing a show at Blake's on Telegraph, though I've eaten there before... their basement area is a nice intimate venue with a comfy atmosphere, small stage and all. There was live art going on throughout the show, which was great to watch between the sets. I really dug it as a concert spot, though there were a few sound difficulties here and there. Danger Zone was actually the first act to perform despite being the only out-of-towners in the line up, probably because the host of the show realized that the local acts would draw more people in the end. Bru Lei and Amos Famous put on a pretty nice no thrills set, and performed a number of tracks from their album "Dangerous Styles." Amos has some nice beats in his arsenal, and Bru Lei is fairly under-appreciated as a lyricist, with a very distinctive drawl in his voice and plenty of clever lyrics and concepts. One highlight of the set was a track based on the history of video game systems and Bru Lei's personal addiction to old school video games, where he pulled out one of those Duck Hunt gun controllers and got the crowd chanting and responding "Nintendo! Sega Genesis!" When all's said and done, Bru's slurred style of rapping might not cater as well to a live setting as it does to a recording, but it was never the less quite a cool and entertaining set. Nu Dekades, a local group that I'd never heard of, came out to perform once Danger Zone had wrapped things up. They were probably the best live performers of the evening, with an energetic chemistry on stage between the two MCs and plenty of catchy and commanding hooks. In terms of beats and lyrical content they didn't interest me quite as much as Danger Zone, but their style did translate better to the stage and made for quite a lively set. They re-used some old beats from classic hip hop tracks for some of their songs which suggests that they haven't fully produced an album yet, but they did tackle the old beats with energy and style. Nice performance. Public Radio were the next to step up and do their thing. I'd seen Public Radio live once previously when they opened for One Be Lo at the Poleng Lounge in San Francisco, though my appreciation for the producer of the group Deedot has risen since then. Still, much like the last time I saw them, their live set was decent though unmemorable. One or two of their tracks stood out for their hooks and flows, but they didn't have the energy of Nu Dekades or the interesting lyrical content of Danger Zone. Nothing about their set was bad persay, but nothing about it really grabbed me either. Can't Find a Villain performed as the final act of the evening and struck me as kind of a bizarre and extremely local phenomenon. Visually, these guys were the highlight of the evening without contest - the three MCs came out wearing a Nixon mask, a wrestler mask, and a ski mask respectively. They continually jumped and raced around the stage and into the crowd while rapping, pouring a huge amount of energy into their motion and visual antics. But in terms of actual MCing skills, these guys didn't strike me as being particularly talented... there were a few notable verses, but nothing really exciting. They were definitely a crowd favorite, but then I got the sense that at least half the people in the room knew the MCs personally in some way. Visually great, but nothing special overall. Decent show in the end... I think it'd rank about average. :-) Here's a lil' video of Danger Zone performing a track, please excuse the horrible visual and audio quality once again:

A few responses: "Russian techno" - I really like the mechanical imagery in this poem... the "growl of the engine," the "rubber feet" and the "technological prayer wheels" all added to the inspiring artificiality of the piece, which I'm sure is meant to reflect the music that the poem refers to. One gets a very positive impression of the techno through the poem, and the technological imagery just seems to add to the "tranquil nirvana" that the music sends the narrator into. The repetition of "heartbeat" is a nice touch as well, though the manner that the syllables repeat doesn't have the feel of a heartbeat to me. Well done poem, though, with lots of interesting imagery. "Ode to Korvapuusti" - Hah! Funny... I was going to ask whether this poem was an ode to a person or an ode to a perfume, but decided to google "Korvapuusti" beforehand and found out about the real subject of the poem. Keeping the true object of the narrator's affection in mind, the poem is very cleverly written, with plenty of references to the real object of affection while still keeping a tone that might suggest an actual person. I *thought* there was something odd about "hot skin" before looking into Korvapuusti further... Tasty, though I prefer Pain au Chocolate personally. ;-D Your latest poem - an interesting comparison. Perhaps if the cyborg prediction proves to be true, mass lobotomy will be the way that people fulfill said prophecy. It's scary to realize that there are things people joke about that are closer to reality than people expect, and this poem expresses that well. I enjoyed reading these, Zadown. Thanks for sharing them. :-)

The news cameras wobble back and forth until they reach a steady diagonal angle, aiming down across part of a slanted Pen Tower rooftop to focus on a scaly red figure. Wyvern rummages through a variety of writing utensils and books that rest gathered in a cozy nook near a rise in the Tower’s roof structure, sitting cross-legged with his tail dangling through an open hole in the roof tiling. The lizard shuts the “Value of Poetry” book cradled in his claws, disappointed at the lack of financial information within, and raises himself to his feet to wave at the cameras. “Greetingsss, and welcome to another episssode of the Almost Report. Voted ‘News Program Most Likely to Require Backup Camera Equipment’ by troglyodytesss everywhere.” Wyvern grins to the cameras and steps forward, accidentally dislodging roof tiles with his tail stinger in the process. “Today, we’re reporting to you live from Cyril Darkcloud’s Tower rooftop alcove for a bit of fresh air, as well as some nice views of pennite babe bedroom windowsss.” A strong gust of wind blows by before Wyvern can continue, muffling his vocals and causing the cameras to wobble back and forth at dizzy angles. The overgrown lizard chatters his teeth and wraps himself in his wings for a moment, then clears his throat and continues once the wind has passed. “To ssstart off this Report, I’d just like to give you CheerMynx fans a heads up that our resssident Almost Intern is off getting an emergency manicure and will probably not be back until the next Report.” Wyvern lets out a little sigh of longing as he thinks of the cheerline, then gestures his claws towards a life-sized cardboard cut-out of CheerMynx complete with attached pompoms. “In the mean time, pleassse accept this imitation CheerMynx for your weekly news ogle, and keep in mind that she’s always here in ssspirit.” Wyvern continues pointing at the generic cheerline cut-out as another strong gust of wind blows across the rooftops, pulling the light cardboard cut-out up in its current. Wyvern bites his lip as he watches the imitation CheerMynx do several twirls in the air before soaring into the open window of Patrick’s Pen quarters. He winces at the possible reaction from the techy tinkerer and turns back to the cameras with a nervous laugh. “*Eehhhem* In today’s Pen newsss, the Almost Report would like to extend it’ssss best birthday wishes to Venefyxatu… not sure how aging works with you necromantic typesss, but I got ya a little gift regardless.” Wyvern waits for another howling gust of wind to pass, then lifts up a small bottle made of zombie muscle with a little spray cap on top of it. “Thisss Almost Dragonic Brand Eau de Putrification™ will be sure to amplify your zombies’ scentsss, and will attract other necromantic types as a result. Hope ya have a great one!” Wyvern turns for a moment to pull out a large cardboard cut-out claw with the words “I <3 Wyvern Fan #1” scrawled on it in an illegible hand. He holds it up for a total of three seconds before another strong gust of wind blows it away. The claw soars through the air before getting caught in a nearby treetop, landing in a position that happens to be pointing in the direction of Tzimfemme’s lodgings. Wyvern chatters his teeth again, then hisses. “In further newsss, members of the ‘I <3 Wyvern Fan Club’ should note that a new free tailoring quest has been issued to the zealous massesss. Become an Almost Report fashion celebrity by having a dress or outfit of yer own creation featured on the show! Jussst sign on the dotted line, next to the bit about ‘100% free of charge.’” With that, Wyvern bows to the cameras, waits for another gust of wind to pass, and moves down to the edge of the Tower. The overgrown lizard pulls out a sketchy map of rooms under the Tower roof and licks his lips, tying his tail stinger down to an area of the roof in the hopes of doing a bit of Pen gal window spelunking. He angles his claws to wear he thinks Appy’s bedroom might be located, then crawls off of the Tower edge with a claws up to the cameras. The lizard’s tail pulls dangerously on the roof tiles that it’s tied to, but the cameras are pulled away by a gust of wind before any viewers can see the result…

"Well, I'm 'fraid that Finnius will forever be consssidered the Patron Saint of Haikusss, but I appreciate the thought Kikuyu!" Kikuyu snaps from her reverie and turns at the sound of the familiar hiss, only to find herself disappointed as she stares at a troglyodyte holding a large crystal ball in his arms. On the crystal ball is the face of the one and only Wyvern himself, broadcasted to the fan club "masses" via live action incantation. Wyvern grins toothily at Kikuyu and Degorram as the troglyodyte grunts and hobbles through the room, nearly dropping the crystal ball several times before setting it upside down on a gold-painted podium. Wyvern blows kisses left and right and spreads his arms, his gestures looking like various handstands given the crystal ball's position. "Thank you, thank you, yer too kind." Wyvern clears his throat of a few ashes, then presses his claws together and flicks his tongue out. "Faithful fanssss, thank you for your donations, constumesss, condiments, donations, words of praise, and donationsss. Come gather 'round, faithful followersss, for your personal icon and sex idol hasss a new mini-assignment and mission for you to look into." Wyvern reaches somewhere off-screen and pulls up what appears to be a linear chart, with figures and increments too complicated to read upside down. "Though we've managed to save for one or two Reportsss, the Almost Report continuesss to fail to generate a large income due to the Almost Intern Fashion Fund (as well as general damages to equipment, but that'sss another story)." Wyvern points to some unidentifiable part of the chart. "In the hopes of generating a bit of income for a Report or two, I am looking for tailors with keen senses of fashion, willing to design fancy dresses and outfits at no geld expense. And what better place to find them than my enthusssiastic fan club, where members are willing to give it their all for only a quarter of the price?" Wyvern pulls his claw away from the chart and points it at the I <3 Wyvern Fan Club members, his sneer looking like a frown upside down. "Sssso here's the deal... if yer interested, I would like you to design a dress or outfit for CheerMynx to wear on the Almost Report. The more detailed and intricate the design, the better. Note that you would only be designing the outfit itself, and it would be up to our resident cheerline to decide how she'd like to wear it. There will be a limit of only one dress submission per fan club member, ssso give yer one outfit desssign your all should you choose to do it. If you decide to make one, pleassse PM the outfit to Mynx rather than describing it here, jussst to keep things surprising. She'll find a way to eventually wear it during the Report or at another event, and will give the credit where it isss due." Wyvern claps his claws together and snickers excitedly, then clears his throat again in an attempt regain his almost dragonic composure. "Of courssse, you faithful fan club membersss will be rewarded with mentions on the Almossst Report, as well as my personal reaction to the dress you tailored. I'd also be happy to pay a much-delayed visssit to the club just to express my appreciation in full." Wyvern pulls on the chart again, and it flaps down off the screen. "Geld income gained as a result of this free tailoring should go straight to the Charity of Wyvern Scheming... though in all likelihood, the Almost Intern Fashion Fund will probably just get raisssed *whimsical sigh*" ;-)

Last night, I went out to see Sleep & Zelly Rock, Josh Martinez, A Brother Named George, and DJ Drez at the Pier 23 Cafe in San Francisco. I was very excited to see this show since I'm a huge fan of Josh Martinez and the Chicharones (his group with Sleep), and the flyer mentioned a Chicharones performance amongst other things. Unfortunately, the show was a major disappointment, since Josh Martinez's flight from Vancouver ended up getting delayed and he wasn't able to make the show. Talk about a let down! I got to the venue early enough to get in for free, though I think I got there a little too early since I probably ended up waiting about an hour too long. The Pier 23 Cafe was a pretty strange venue, for the record - a little Cafe bar sitting beside the Ocean in the Embarcadero in San Francisco, with a makeshift stage set-up outdoors next to the water. You have to take the back exit of the Cafe to get to the spot where the stage is, which I imagine might confuse some potential concert goers, though I suppose that once the music starts up it's easier to find where it's coming from. It was pretty darn cold outdoors which caused some chills at first, but fortunately the venue did have an outdoor heating system and it was slightly warmer by the time the music started up. DJ Drez, a good DJ from the Project Blowed collective, started things off with a DJ mix set. More of a warm up than anything else, but to Drez's credit he did an excellent job mixing and his choices of tracks really flowed well together. His musical tastes definitely fall along the lines of true school hip hop, with selections from One Self and Chali 2na amongst others standing out. Though it was only a mix set, DJ Drez showed that he was better than your average person spinning records at the beginning of a show. Nice mix set. A Brother Named George performed next, with a cup of tea in hand to battle a sore throat that had occured on his way to San Francisco. I'd never heard of him before, but his tracks struck me as being pretty mediocre. The low tone of his voice was sort of interesting at times, but his lyrics, subject matter, flow and beats were all very conventional and didn't really stand out in any way. The last track he performed was probably the best of the bunch, with a slightly harder hitting beat than the others, but the battle raps he spit over it were pretty predictable. And does every underground MC these days need to do a live spoken word piece about the Bush administration? *rolls eyes and sighs* To fill the missing set where Josh Martinez would have been was an MC from Florida by the name of Pegleg. And wow, he was awful. He only performed about 5 or 6 tracks, but by halfway through the second track I was hoping he would just shut up and lay down the mic so that Sleep could get to perform. His lyrics seemed to have something to do with pirates, which is not necessarily a bad thing, but his voice, flow and cadence were all very difficult to tolerate for even a track. MC Pegleg is proof that there are such things as good nerd rappers and bad nerd rappers, because he definitely seems to be picked from the bottom of the bad nerd rap barrel. Arrrrr, where're me earplugs? The show would have been better without his set. At this point in the show, I was rather disheartened by the lack of Josh Martinez and the low quality of the opening acts. Fortunately, Sleep and Zelly Rock did redeem the show a bit, as they put on an energetic and engaging set of tracks that would work great in a crowded dancehall. Sleep is one half of the Chicharones, and is known for having ridiculous amounts of rhythm and energy in his verses... as far as fast rap is concerned, he's your go-to guy. Sleep puts so much of himself into his verses that he constantly looks like he's on the verge of exploding on stage, with a deceptive appearance that'd never make you guess he could deliver such speedy and intricate verses. Zelly Rock, Sleep's partner in rhyme for the evening, has a very interesting ragga dancehall cadence that compliments Sleep's style well, which makes for some very danceable and energetic songs. They performed quite a few excellent tracks from their recent album, though no Chicharones songs sadly since Martinez was absent. A disappointing show overall, redeemed slightly by a very good performance from Sleep and Zelly Rock. Here's some footage I took of Sleep & Zelly Rock performing a track. Poor visual and audio quality, but the talent shines through:

Nice story, Sora Hikari. :-) The concept of a spirit or undead twin assimilating the identity of her counterpart was interesting and original, and the manner that the switch was revealed to Takuma was nicely done. The imagery involving the white haired, black kimonoed twin was also well-incorporated and worked well in giving the story a kind of horror feel to it. The involvement of the seer in the story felt out of place to me for some reason... why would Takuma trust the fortune-teller to the point of isolating one of his daughters? Does the seer have a reputation of some sort, or has the seer accurately predicted the future for Takuma before? Since the story seems to take place in a modern setting, I'd guess that fortune-telling would be considered a thing of superstition. Also, if Takuma is aware that his white-haired daughter died from her cold, why would he be afraid of the other daughter visiting the estate? Is he aware that the daughter haunts the place as a spirit? Anyway, just some food for thought should you choose to expand the piece at some point in the future. :-) In terms of possible church names, I wouldn't choose a name that relates to any element of the story since that might be too blunt... how about a church bearing the name of the place where Takuma and Victoria were married? Or maybe the random name of someone for a memorial church. Nice stuff, Sora. :-) Thanks for sharing it here.

A heartfelt poem (no pun intended), Freya. :-) Seperating with someone who you've invested a great deal of time and emotion into can be a very painful process, as this poem shows. I like the concept of "freedom" being a release from longing in the fourth stanza, as love can certainly be a form of entrapment at times. In terms of things that might be improved upon in future revisions, the rhyme scheme felt a bit forced to me at times and might be restraining the poem from reaching its full potential. The reference to the ex-loved one as "O foolish one" in the fourth stanza was also a bit odd to me, both for the olden language and for the idea of the person who stole the narrator's heart being a fool. Nicely done overall, Freya. :-) Thanks for sharing this here, and a very Happy Valentine's to you. Here's hoping you're doing well.

"Ho Ho Hooo! Why, if it isn't a young cabbage worthy of Nutrition Magazine photo modeling." All eyes turn towards the entrance of the Cabaret Room as a figure dressed in a dark brown overcoat steps into the room, raising his claw-shaped gloves in greeting. The suspicious stranger adjusts the extra-wide top hat on his head, the dark round eyeglasses on his face, and the jumbo mustache on the end of his snout before leaning in closer and striking a toothy grin. He weaves his way past the Researcher and Tanuchan and pauses once he gets to the table, scooting Blby and the Guinea Pig to the side with his gloves in the hopes of inspecting the wiggly cabbage in greater detail. "Ohhh ho ho hooo yes, a fine cabbage modeling ssspecimen. Yes yes, very fine indeed. You'll make the cover, I'm sure." He extends a glove to Chiroq, who backs away instinctively. "Well, allow me to introduce myself. Weeven E. Cookwitgass. Professional cabbage modeler, part time cabbage barber, at your ssservice." Weeven stares at the worried Chiroq for a moment, then squeezes his tail back under his overcoat and tilts his head in Patham's direction. "I assssume that you're this wiggly cabbage's agent? Well, I'd like to ssstart modeling this cabbage as soon as possible. Private kitchen photoshootsss, the works. I'll make him a star amongst vegetablesss, you'll see. Why don't you take a look at thisss contract." Weeven hands Patham a long parchment loaded with tiny print. He then pulls out a huge pair of scissors from his overcoat. "If you'd like, I could give your client a little professional cabbage barber trimming right now while you read over that thing, free of charge." Weeven snaps his scissors twice, then considers his final statement and hesitantly adds. "Well, almossst free of charge.... There is a 5 geld fee asssociated with any of my services, of course. As well as a 1 geld fee associated with my time. Oh ho ho hoooo." ;-)