Wyvern

I really like this poem, Silver Wind. :-) The sensual imagery of nature works very well, with the grass fingers and wind tongue metaphors probably being my favorites. I also like how the imagery is arranged in a manner that builds to a climax, as it definitely gives the poem a momentum that holds the reader's attention. I agree with reverie that the delight in nature is similar to Whitman's work, and agree with Ozymandias that the ties of sexuality and nature in the poem are apparent. Very nicely done, thanks for sharing it.

The news cameras flicker on to the image of a white manila envelope sealed by a violet heart sticker and addressed in fancy cursive characters. The cameras slowly zoom out to reveal that the letter is one of many heart-sealed envelopes in a large stack that rests to the left of CheerMynx’s bed, which has been decorated in heart and kiss mark confetti as well as fluffy pink heart-shaped cushions. As the cameras move out further, the moody red fluorescent lighting of CheerMynx’s bedroom HQ is revealed, complete with a fake burning fire place generated by crystal ball illusion. The cameras shift to the right, passing by the He-Barbarian Hunks poster that rests on the wall at the end of CheerMynx’s bed before reaching Wyvern. The reptilian reporter wears a toga and carries a pointy heart-tipped pitchfork, giving off the impression of a demonic (or at least almost dragonic) Cupid. He adjusts his position on the two kitten minions he’s mistaken for a heart cushion and grins, not hearing their muffled mewls beneath him. “Greetingssss, and welcome a special pre-Valentine’s edition of the Almost Report.” Wyvern flashes the smoothest grin he can muster and raises a glass of wine filled with cheap Bruteweiser beer. “Since we’re promoting love amongst pennitesss, I thought we might take this opportunity to look over some of the fan mail we’ve received here at the Report, jussst as a sort of warm-up. Lessee here…” The cameras move a bit further to the right, revealing a scattered collection of about three or four envelopes at Wyvern’s side that pales in comparison to the huge mountain of CheerMynx fan mail on the left side of the bed. The overgrown lizard licks his lips and tears open one of the envelopes with a claw, only to stare at its contents with a blank expression. The cameras catch a brief glimpse of the letters “IRS” spelled out on the back of the letter before Wyvern tosses it to the side. “*Ahem* To kick off the early Valentine’s celebrations, I’d like to acknowledge and give my deepest regards to two very ssspecial pennites who should be celebrating their birthdays right about now. A pre-emptive Valentine’s haiku for each of ya:” Kikuyu Black Paws: ninja spandex gal/ tickle torturer supreme/ don’t get her (too) mad. Degorram: chick of many forms/ fan club shifter, shape founder/ proud Pen sister too. “A very happy birthday to both of you galsss! Here’s hoping the two of you have great onesss.” Wyvern tucks the two haikus into envelopes and hands them to a troglyodyte courier, who scurries off with them. “I’d alssso like to extend my appreciation to Rhapsssody and Geldrinhor, who alssso celebrated their birthdays recently. If ya ever happen to drop by the Pen, I gotta trunk full of Almost Dragonic Brand Products here just waiting to be chosen as gifts.” Wyvern grins broadly, then pauses and twitches his snout. He raises a claw to the wreaths of thorns coiled around his horns, scratching at them and cursing at the itchy nature of the toga ensemble. Once he’s re-composed his grin, the lizard raises his pitchfork and points it towards the cameras. “On a more general gift-giving note, I’d like to take this opportunity to offer a lil’ Valentine’sss gift to all the Pen ladiesss (and gents) that might be interesssted.” Wyvern reaches into his toga and pulls out a odd-looking tape, lowering his pitchfork so that the cameras can get a good look at it. “Thisss is an archived recording of ‘Any Given Moment,’ a Pen-oriented radio show from back in the day. The episssode, “Eros Literate,” is based on romantic hip hop and features shouts and dedications to Yui, Tzimfemme, Appy, Sweetcherrie, Lady Celes Crusador, etc. as well as on-air interviews with Gwaihir and Silver Dragon of the Pen. The hossst o’this thing, E. Literate, talks way too much and has some really awkward studio malfunctions and conversssations… but apparently, he’s fine with making this thing available for listening, for a limited time only. An Almost Report exclusssive!” Wyvern sets the tape down and claps his claws together, squirming in an attempt to get comfortable on his “cushion” and evoking quite a few kitten yowls in the process. The overgrown lizard sets his pitchfork down on the bed and reaches for a quill and a sheet of paper. He glances in both directions to make sure that CheerMynx hasn’t arrived yet and that no one is looking, then begins scribbling a note about how much CheerMynx has brightened up his life and how she’s turned the Report into a great success and how much he cares about her. Wyvern clears his throat loudly and blushes, folding the letter and sealing it tightly in an envelope. “Don’t forget that you can alssso share your appreciation for other pennites this Valentine’sss at the Love Letters table of the Cabaret Room.” Wyvern shoves his CheerMynx Valentine’s letter into the center of the Almost Intern’s large stack of fan mail, desperately trying to hide a blush and praying that the note won’t be discovered until later. “Perfect ssspot to show someone special you care.”

Freya Baranfinnel Sinome Rae Maethe sighs to herself and shoves a stack of paperwork to the side with one of her feet, glancing over the mess of an Office floor before noticing the absence of a proper Pen recruiter to read over and accept her application. The applicant frowns and turns towards Ozymandias, cocking a thumb back at the Office Rolodex clock and raising her story in one hand. She opens her mouth to inquire about the Elder of Initiates' whereabouts, only to pause as a loud knocking sound echoes from the other side of the Office door. Both Freya and Ozymandias turn as a second set of knocks rings out from the door, until a deep grainy voice bellows: "Could somebody answer that? I'd rather not get a frame ache." Freya takes a step back as she notices the boards of the Office door moving of their own accord and forming a mouth... a mouth capable of bellowing instructions, for that matter. Another set of knocking begins before Ozymandias takes the initiative and answers the door, revealing a troglyodyte in a grey-ish blue delivery man uniform. A large wooden chest sits behind the troglyodyte, measuring up to his full height. The troglyodyte raises a fist to knock once again, stopping his webbed hand mere inches away from Ozymandias' beard. He immediately straightens up and mumbles: "Special delivery for..." The troglyodyte lifts a small piece of paper to his face and twists his slimy nose. "Frrreya... Barafoo- Barfannoo- Baranfinn? Sinora E. Maethe?" Freya hesitantly steps closer to the door as the large chest is shoved in by the forces of the delivery lizardine and Ozymandias combined. She glances at the troglyodyte's delivery card just to make sure that her name is indeed listed as the recipient, then thanks him and signs a delivery receit before watching him depart. She then turns her attention to the chest itself, which appears to be fabricated out of cheap wood and has an inscription on its lid. Freya raises a brow as she tries to make out the words, which have been carved in an unprofessional and near-illegible manner. Insert Gold Coins to Open me The Higher Price, the Greater For Applications Read and Stamped Pay Now or See You Later. Freya frowns and spots a small slit on the front of the box for coins to slip into, then reaches into her pouch to check for any gold currency. She stops, however, as Ozymandias lays a hand on her arm. "Better not, Freya. We don't know, it could be a trap." "Awwwww c'mooon!" Both Freya and Ozymandias turn as the lid of the chest suddenly pops open, along with Wyvern who springs out of it like a jack-in-the-box. The overgrown lizard strikes a toothy grin and gestures to Freya. "Go on, drop sssome coins in, or you'll never be able to open the che-" Wyvern stops short as he realizes that the chest has already been opened, and raises a claw to his horns with a sheepish laugh as he steps out. The reptilian Elder steps up to Freya and shakes her hand, snatching her application sheet up and eyeing it greedily. "Nice to see you applying Miss Freya Baranfinnel Sinome Rae Maethe. Mind if I call ya Freya Baranfinnel Sinome Rae M. for short?" Wyvern carefully reads over Freya's horror vignette, then stamps it ACCEPTED and nudges her with a scaly shoulder. "Sssay, I don't suppose you might be able to give me a few pointers on sssetting up these chest trap thingsss? A trap door with a pay elevator going up could probably draw a profit..." ;-) OOC: An ACCEPTED application story, Freya B. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! :-) I hope that you find us a very friendly and welcoming community to share your writing with, and am looking forward to reading more of your stories as well as to participating with you in collaborative threads when the opportunity arises. Once again, welcome!

It takes a long moment before CheerMynx's question registers in Wyvern's mind, with the feel of the cheerline's fur and scant outfit against his mostly bare scales occupying most of the overgrown lizard's thoughts. The reptilian Elder's tail stinger twists into the floor as CheerMynx pulls back a bit from her position on top of him, her rear skirt lace stretching a bit as it passes over his scales. His wide goofy grin and trail of drool come to an abrupt halt as he notices the quizzical expression on CheerMynx's face, and he raises a claw to the trail of blood dripping from his snout as her question seeps into his brain. "O-o-o-oh-oh-oh thisss?! N-n-nothing much." Wyvern bites his lip as the literal connotations of the response echo through his mind, watching CheerMynx raise a brow and move further back off of him. A soft ripping sound drifts from some unseen area of the lizard's tight pants in the ensuring silence, and he digs his claws into the floor in the hopes of keeping his calm. "Th-th-that isss, ummm... y'see, before the Report I ran into this sorcerer in Knight's armory that turns people into dogs, and ssso he decided to turn me into a mutt, but then I said 'Oh no you don't, CheerMynx won't like a mutt hanging around the Report" and I picked up that hammer from Knight'sss tool table and swung it down on him and he got nailed into the floor ssso bad that there was nothing left. So then I turned back into a Wyvern, but the mutt accessoriesss were ssstill there. Errrr...?" CheerMynx stares at Wyvern with an uncertain expression while Snuffles glances forward glumly, not buying the lizard's poor excuses for an instant. After going cross eyed and distracted over CheerMynx's tight corset again, Wyvern lifts himself to his feet and notices the looks on their faces. He mumbles something under his breath and hisses a short sigh. "O.K, O.K, so it'ssss a historical artifact." Wyvern manages to tear his eyes away from CheerMynx in order to stare down at the ground, blushing and lifting one of his wings in an effort to hide it. "Sssigne chose the design and the dish and, well, I didn't really have much of a sssay in the matter... not that I regret it, sssuccubi know bessst n'all I s'pose." Wyvern freezes up as CheerMynx moves in close again, moving a paw across his neck to inspect the collar and chain with increasing feline curiousity. The overgrown lizard breathes out a happy whimper at her touch, recalling the feel of her arms clutching his back only a few moments ago and savoring the sensation. He stares down directly into CheerMynx's tightly packed cleavage and then at the tilted position of her skirt, whimpering some more as its hem brushes against his leg. The overgrown lizard stiffens up even further, more ripping sounds drifting from the front of his ragged shorts, and he coughs loudly in the hopes of covering it up. "L-l-lisssten, I gotta change into something more comfortable. Pleasssse ssstay right here, just like this. I'll be right back." Wyvern turns just as CheerMynx's shifts his collar chain through her paws, connecting it to one of Snuffles' handcuffs by accident. The overgrown lizard races off to the nearest dressing room in the hopes of solving any major trouser malfunctions before they occur, pulling Snuffles (and CheerMynx's vision) along with him. Wyvern's thoughts are so set on his goal of changing outfits that he doesn't even hear the angered mewls.. ;-)

Very good poem, reverie. It has a personal feel to it, yet is distanced enough to convey a clear image to the reader while experimenting with structure and phrasing. The first stanza was probably my favorite, as the manner that Arty's story is narrated is well done and the emotions that the narrator shows in relation to Arty and his dead friend are complex and intriguing. In some ways, they seem connected to the statement that ends the poem, which feels original and well-incorporated in the manner that it draws upon the selfish aspects of people to better appreciate the friend who was murdered. The story of the friend's death was also well-written, though I wasn't quite as big a fan of the indented paragraph where the narrator expresses his anger at the killer. It's an approach that I feel could work very well in a seperate poem all to itself, but which feels a little out of place in the context of the rest of this poem given the general focus on the dead friend... then again, feelings of mourning are often accompanied by feelings of anger, and that's expressed nicely here. Good stuff overall, reverie. Thank you for sharing it.

The news cameras pull away from the darkness that blinds their lenses, revealing a menacing suit of pitch black gothic plate armor with a sharpened steel visor and barbed wire cufflinks. The cameras pan out further to reveal that the armor is one of many suits standing adjacent to the wall in a long elegant chamber. Angelic coats of arms have been spread over both walls of the hall, and the far end of the dimly lit room has a tall table with a section for enormous tools. A giant unlit blacksmithing furnace stands next to the table at the end of the chamber, gathering cobwebs and dust from lack of use. “Err, g-greetingssss, and welcome to the Almost Report.” Wyvern’s familiar hiss echoes from somewhere in the long hall, and the cameras weave back and forth in an attempt to find him. A few troglyodytes shout to each other as the cameras begin moving past the rows of armor, looking for some sign of Wyvern. The reptilian Elder’s voice continues hissing in background. “I, uhh, we’re reporting to you live from Knight’sss armory this evening in an effort to scope out the finer items of his collection while celebrating his recent birthday. *Ahem* Hope ya had a great one, Knight.” The cameras continue turning left and right in search of Wyvern and begin picking up their pace, only to pause and backtrack a few feet as the lenses catch sight of a tail stinger with a silky black bow sticking out from behind one of the lighter suits of iron. The cameras try to curve at an angle to catch an image of Wyvern hiding behind the armor, but come up short on the visuals. “O-of courssse, Knight’sss birthday isn’t the only one being celebrated and uhh… I sorta- hey! What’re you-?” The news cameras spot two sets of troglyodyte feet behind the armor and hear a chatter of news crew voices before the shoving starts. A screech of metal is heard as Wyvern attempts to grip the back of the armor with his claws, scooting back with his feet as best as he can. “W-wait, I’m not ready! Jussst need to get a lil more comfortable before I face th - I mean - O.K! O.K. Look, ssstop pushing! I’ll come out, geeze…” Wyvern breaths a long sigh as he steps out into the open, revealing an attire that would be deemed questionable by any honorary Pen news reporter. The overgrown lizard is dressed in rugged black pants that have been cut up to the knees, with an extra-large hole in the back for tail space. He wears no shirt or shoes, though a spiked almost dragon collar is tied around his neck with a loose chain dangling from its rear. A silky black ribbon is tied around the lizard’s right horn in a manner similar to his tail stinger decoration… possibly set there as a reserve blindfold. “R-right, wellllllcome to the Almossst Report. *Ahem* Or did I already ssssay that?” Wyvern blushes and folds his wings so that they cover his scaly chest a bit, feeling self-conscious as he lifts a dish with the words “Wyvie’s Dish <3” written on it in a cursive hand. “L-like I said, Knight’s ain’t the only recent birthday. The Pen’s lovable resident succubus, Signe, alssso celebrated her birthday a few days ago, and I uhhh… thought the least I could do was dress appropriately for the occasion. I sent a few Almost Dragonic Brand Waterlily Trimming Flowers™ to her quarters as well, jussst in case. Hope ya had an awesome one, Signe.” Wyvern winks and turns another shade of scarlet before turning away from the cameras and wandering down the long armory hall, pointing out various suites of armor in an attempt to turn the cameras’ attention away from what he’s wearing. “Asss you can see *ahem,* Knight has desssigned quite a few excellent pieces of armor.” Wyvern pauses at a piece of mithril studded steel, and swings his all-too-visible tail as he points it out. “And not always alone, it seemsss. This particular piece of armor seems to have been enchanted by a signature spell from Sorciere, who alssso happened to celebrate her B-day recently. Here’s lookin at you, ‘Sorc!” Wyvern grins towards the cameras and continues wandering down the hall until he reaches a suit of triple layer chain mail. He stares at the armor for a long moment before another Pen news item occurs to him. “The Almossst Report would also like to extend its congratulations to the three pennites who gained new ranks in the recent February Pen Promotions.” Wyvern runs a claw over the material of the chain mail, careful to not get his own chain tangled in it. “The promotions came a day late due to Ozymandias’ case of the flu, which had absolutely nothing to do with him running nekkid through the Cabaret Room and Chatbox in freezing weather… *Ahehehem*” Wyvern moves further down the hall and pauses as he reaches the tall table with the dominion blacksmithing instruments, his eyes going tiny at the sight of the huge hammer and pick. “In further Pen newsss, Man and Superman: a Matrix Werewolf has officially gotten underway in the Conservatory for those who are interested in a bit of alternative reality tag.” Wyvern pokes at the head of the giant hammer once or twice, then moves away from it and breathes a low hiss. “’Ssssuperman’ is definitely the word...” With that, Wyvern clears his throat and turns back towards the camera, reaching down and scratching at an itch in his tight shorts. “Anyway, ssstay tuned for CheerMynx, who’ll be coming on a little later than usual and-” Wyvern stops short as a troglyodyte news person holding a schedule frowns and shakes his head, tapping it and raising it up for Wyv to see. Another troglyodyte crew member dashes up and whispers something quickly into Wyvern’s ear before falling back into his regular position. “Waddaya mean CheerMynx is on her regular schedule?!” Wyvern tenses up as a look of panic falls over his face, the thought of CheerMynx catching him in his current outfit striking more than a little anxiety into his reptilian heart. “You gotta be kidding?!” Wyvern wastes no time, barging past the surrounding troglyodytes and scrambling to find a suit of armor that might fit him. The reptilian Elder clangs through piece after piece with no success, finding all of the suits far too large to accommodate his scaly features…

Cool poem, Degorram. :-) I like how you give the depictions of fierce combat a lighthearted and friendly sort of tone, as it gives one the impression that the battle here is little more than a parry between companions. The first three lines of the third stanza strike me as having a much darker tone, however, and I was a little uncertain of whether the dark contemplations there fit in the context of the rest of the poem. The thoughts of "where the truth has gone to in this world" were interesting, but I wasn't sure what they stemmed from in the poem, as I generally got the impression that the narrator was enjoying the combat. Anyway, thanks for sharing this here Dego. :-) Wyvern makes a note to pack himself an Almost Dragonic Brand Hangman Glider™ the next time Degorram offers him a walk through the woods...

Kikuyu & Dego, I enjoyed reading this piece of backstory from the lives of Kikuyu and Degorram. :-) It's always interesting to read pieces of history from the lives of pennite characters prior to their arrival at the Pen, as it makes for more detailed and developed personas to play off of. Actually, would the two of you be interested in collaborating on a serious (or not so serious!) RP thread at some point involving the powerful necromancer that Kikuyu & Degorram think they've destroyed? I could see an interesting plot developing in a future thread where it turns out that the necromancer is still alive, and then it's up to the Pen to combine its forces to fend him off... Nothing to immediately think about, but I'll let the idea marinate for a while. Also, I really like how you incorporate a bunch of Pen characters into the segment about your arrival at the Pen, and think that you reference them well. :-) I'm also honored to have been chosen as the Pen tour guide for Kikuyu and Degorram's introduction to the Keep *cue scaly blush.* Hope those venus fly traps worked out! ;-) Cool stuff. :-)

Wyvern digs his tail as far into the dirt as his stinger can muster and examines the address for the tenth time to make sure that it's the right place. The overgrown lizard lets out a shaky sigh and flips the address card over with a trembling claw, looking over the three options and jumping a bit at the sound of the rickety window flaps slamming back and forth under the strong passing breeze. The harsh howl of wind is accompanied by the sound of shrieking bats, all of which cause Wyvern to shiver as he takes out a quill and scribbles something below the ever-tempting choice C. "D - Stand my ground and raise up an Almost Dragonic Brand Imitation Slayer Sword Hilt™ in the hopes of luring Anna away from that majorly creepy building and towards my current position." Wyvern claps his claws together and reaches for his Slayer knock-off product, hoping that his former fashion apprentice will recognize him after all these years... ;-)

Nice poem, Silver Wind. :-) I really like the sensual imagery of the blossoms "pulsing... passion's crimson" in the first stanza, as it added to the tone of longing in the poem and contrasted with the icy setting in a very interesting manner. The one word of the poem that confused me a bit was "breath" in the second line of the first stanza, as the grammar there seems off and I couldn't envision the blossoms generating the ice when they seem to long to break free from it... was the word "beneath" intended there by any chance? Nice stuff, once again. :-) Thanks for sharing it here, Silver Wind.

... for a long moment, until the words “Take 3” appear in a white almost dragonic hand against the background. The cameras flicker back to life and focus in on a group of aggravated troglyodytes, who are untangling camera equipment and arguing amongst themselves while occasionally gesturing to the right. The cameras shift in that direction to reveal 50s housewife CheerMynx with her leg knotted in power cord, along with Wyvern kneeling down and inspecting the extent of the entanglement. "Sssfhtddfk" mumbles Wyvern as he feels over the cords surrounding CheerMynx's foot, tugging at various spots in what appears to be an attempt at finding a location loose enough to untie the knot. "Gfragorble ffrcdasz." Wyvern notices CheerMynx's confused expression, and pauses for a moment to swallow the two kitten cookies crammed in his mouth. He clears his throat and begins poking around the ankle area of the cords. "To anssswer yer earlier question 'Mynxie, I think we should consider being a little more careful 'round these Reports." Wyvern frowns slightly and looks Snuffles in the eyes with an expression of genuine concern. "I certainly wouldn't want ya to get hurt. And besssides, a broken limb would hardly be suited for a cheerleading feline such as yerself." Wyvern's claws move up from the shin area of the cords to the knee as he continues hissing. "Of courssse, then again, the danger does kinda add to the whole athletic appeal..." A spout of flame bursts from the still-dangerous damaged stove in the background, causing a billow of smoke to pass over the scene. "I guesss we just need to find some sorta balance. Y'know, kinda like balancing diets or checkbooks or Almost Intern Fashion Fu-" "Ummm, Wyv?" "Yeah?" "Like, your claw. There aren't any power cords around my thigh." The billow of smoke passes and reveals the half-cold, half-bemused look on CheerMynx's face. "How's the knot coming anyway?" "The knot...?" Wyvern considers for a second, then freezes up as he realizes his slip of tongue. He glances at CheerMynx's expression and quickly removes his claw from her furry thigh, cringing at the thought of another perfectly legitimate excuse gone to waste. He twiddles his claws and finally manages to croak. "O-Oh the knot, well of courssse! I'm uhhh, just, y'know, still trying here..." Wyvern bites his lower lip a bit as he sees that CheerMynx is not quite buying it, and his mind races for a way to switch the subject via small talk. He sticks his tail stinger between two of the outmost cords and begins tugging at them in an actual attempt to search for a cord loose enough to untie the knot. "Sssoooo, uhhhhh..." Wyvern's brain frantically picks the last subject he reported on as a means of taking CheerMynx's attention away from the leg thing, only realizing the awkwardness that the words add to the situation after they've been spoken. "How about that Ozymandias nekkid in the Cabaret Room huh?"

The news cameras power on to a close-up of what appears to be a blazing inferno, with flickers of flame dancing left and right like some kind of exotic personal cheerleader performance. The news crew has the common sense to move back when the heat starts making the lenses hazy, panning out until the image of the open oven door and its flaming contents is fully revealed. The cameras make a sharp turn to the left as they catch Wyvern racing in with a large bucket of cider, then shake their way to the right as the lizard trips and tosses the liquid towards the flames with a yelp. The spurts of heat and cries of desperation that follow are too much for the crew to handle, and an explosion of ash causes the cameras to topple over to the point of the image being obscured completely. The screen goes black for a long moment until the words “Take 2” appear in a white almost dragonic hand against the background. The news cameras fade in to a pair of miniature chef hats, which rest on the horns of a certain reptilian reporter’s head. Wyvern adjusts the “Chocolate or Bust” brown bartender smock that covers his torso and raises a charred claw at the cameras. “Greetingssss, and welcome to the Almost Report Culinary Hour.” Wyvern grins towards the cameras and ignores the black smoke that wafts behind him and the soot stains that dot his outfit. He lifts an extremely charred piece of what might have been a pastry and bites into it, crunching on it without flinching. “Live from Celes Crusador’s Café, we’ll give you advice on ingredientsss and beverages to compliment the highlight dish of the season: peeled wiggly cabbage, served half-live with sweet telekinetic sugar swirl and mashed brain ssstem.” Wyvern reaches somewhere behind the billows of black smoke and pulls out an iron mixer, followed by a few colorfully labeled bottles of liquor and a transparent vial of pure liquid red. The overgrown lizard licks his lips and winks towards the cameras as he tosses the various liquids together in a haphazard manner, shaking them up and spilling a solid week’s worth of expensive alcohol in the process. “In termssss of drinks, I thought I’d concoct a lil’ Type-O Typhoon Slammer in honor of Black’s recent birthday. If yer vampiric in nature, this lil’ tonic goes down very nicely to the screams of tortured wiggly cabbages.” Wyvern pours the sloppy mixture into a bat-emblazoned mug, spilling it over the rim. “Feel free to give yer best regards to Black in the Cabaret, and scope out Anna’s Mansion as well while yer at it.” Wyvern turns towards an elegant French cupboard of the Café and opens it, sorting through spice racks until he tosses out a bottle of Black Cactus Flaming Sting Spice and a flat round container of Cabbage Wound Tenderizing Salt. “Of courssse, for any fine Wiggly Cabbage delicacy, you’ll need the right ssseasoning.” Wyvern sets a container of Almost Dragonic Brand Imp Ash Pepper™ on the counter in front of him, setting it on top of the Black Cactus Spice and the Tenderizing Salt so that it’s a visually dominant piece of the set-up. “And ssspeaking of season, voting Pen members should be sure to check out the February promotions vote for free seasonal snack sssamplers. Voting closes on January 31rst, so be sure to drop off yer votes and tassste yer free samplers before then.” Wyvern arranges the three spice containers on the counter so that the Almost Dragonic Brand Imp Ash Pepper™ looks even more dominant, then proceeds to reach into a drawer and pull out some extremely sharp looking cutlery, some of which could easily pass as torture devices. Along with the sharp cabbage shredders, the lizard sets down a tiny mousetrap made entirely out of bone. “While preparing your half-live peeled wiggly cabbage, it’sss important that you take the proper precautions against greedy rodentsss.” Wyvern taps the mousetrap with a grin, only to cringe and grit his teeth as it snaps down on one of his claws. He twists his snout as he pulls it off with a *clack.* “And in case you don’t believe in the rodent issue, jussst check the Assembly Room, where the Grim Squeaker was recently ssspotted chewing on story ending scraps.” Wyvern dusts off his claws, then adds a small chocolate sprinkle shaker and a chocolate saucer to the mix, for no list of ingredients would be complete without at least a little chocolate, Wyvern pats the jumbled pile of extras and equipment before facing the cameras with a toothy grin. “Of course, sssome of you may be wondering where to obtain a wiggly cabbage to cook with. Gwaihir’s greenhouse is a bit of a guarded fortress as far as wiggly cabbages are concerned, so you gotta keep yer eyes peeled for’em elsewhere.” Wyvern raises a doodle sketch of a wiggly cabbage and points at it with a claw. “Jussst recently, an appetizing wiggly cabbage by the name of Chiroq was spotted in the Conservatory. Feel free to give him the finest of Pen greetings, and don’t forget to bring the salt!” Wyvern winks towards the cameras, then sets the sketch down on top of the mess he’s made on the counter and steps in front of the serving area, leaning back against it and blocking most of the smoke. “And to wrap up this sssegment of the Report on a ssscandalous note, Loremaster Ozymandias was recently spotted ssstreaking in the Cabaret Room. This is the first nekkid mage sighting since Tzimfemme’s last appearance in August, and has caused a (rather minor) stir amongst pennites.” Thoughts of nekkid mages give Wyvern a flashback to the close encounters of last week’s Almost Report, which causes him to blush slightly and curl his tail a bit. He leans further back against the Café counter in an attempt to maximize his machismo before CheerMynx arrives, reaching over for the bat-emblazoned mug and narrowing his eyes slyly as he slowly takes a sip. The overgrown spits out the liquid in hacks and wheezes as he suddenly remembers that it’s made for vampires, clutching his throat and retching a bit before slamming it back down on the counter. "*Ahem* Ssstay tuned as CheerMynx gives some advice on how to ssserve this wonderful dish, along with other tassssssssty tidbits …”

"W-W-WRENNY!" Wyvern croaks and bites his bottom lip, the embarrassing nature of the situation fighting with the urge to spend more "quality time" with CheerMynx under the drapes. "W-WHAT A P-P-PLEASSSSSANT SURPRISSSE. Y-y-ya like the uhhh, decorationsss?" No response. Wyvern attempts to tilt his head at an angle where he might view Wrenwind's expression through the light on the drapes, but finds it impossible to look beyond CheerMynx's hypnotic cleavage. The overgrown lizard gibbers for a moment, then clears his throat and lets the thought of Wrenwind scowling get the best of him, hissing: "D-d-d-don't worry, we were just getting u-" Wyvern takes another yank at the drapes in the genuine hopes of removing them, but let's out a high-pitched cry of excitement as it once again squeezes CheerMynx closer to his scales. The reptilian Elder's thoughts go dizzy and he reaches out to clutch Wren's sheets again, only to accidentally grip at the back of his Almost Intern's skimpy Mary Poppins attire. Wyvern breaths out a sharp gasp of air as his claws shift over the lacey fabric of the dress, and the thought that perhaps his geld is going to a good cause enters his mind before the excitement becomes to much for him to bear. He promptly goes faint, a twisted smile curled over his snout and a dribble of drool finding its way down the tips of his tongue...

Wyvern barges through the Banquet Hall on the way to his latest scheme brainstorming session, passing by an abandoned poetry exercise booth and the Banquet Hall's Silver Wind Statuette before scooting to a halt at the sight of Kikuyu's latest. Wyvern scratches one of his horns as he scoops the poem from its position piled next to recent poems by Mardrax and Degorram, and he slowly nods as he reads it over with a flick of his tongue. "Hmph. I might've been there, I think." Wyvern looks over the poem with a puzzled expression and glances over at Kikuyu. He points a claw at the fourth stanza. "One of the lizards, though I was pursuing the supposed gold that the other lizards were talking about and didn't even notice the Grim Reaper of Muse Mishandlers. I remember how disappointed everyone was when the extent of the wealth ended up being some gold eyes that someone spotted... I don't think I ever tried my claw at the hoarding band biz again." Wyvern sets the poem down and grins at Kikuyu, cocking a claw back at the abandoned poetry exercise booth. "Anyway, the ghostsss o' that booth could prolly learn a thing or two from this piece. Don't neglect yer muse, lest yee have experience dealing with nature freaking out before your eyes!"

Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat frowns and taps his fingers on the arm rest of his applicant easy chair, glancing up at the Office's Rolodex clock and blinking twice at the amount of time that has passed since he first stepped in and set his application story on the messy Recruiter's desk. He stands up to stretch for a moment and glances over at the Office door, wondering if any Pen members are wandering the hall and whether they might be able to point him in the direction of the extra-tardy Elder of Initiates. The applicant's worries are answered by the sound of the Office window slamming open, however, along with the sound of scaly wings scrunching their way through a crammed space and a hissy grunt. Wyvern collapses into a pile of half-finished scheme outlines below the window and struggles until he dislodges his tail from the window sill. He brushes a few brambles and sticky glue-related scheme sheets from his crimson scales, then turns to Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat with a wide toothy grin. "Greetingssss, and apologies for the slight delay Mr...?" Wyvern bounces over to his desk and scoops up Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat's application, shoving several important Office doodles and Naughty Nymph Magazines to the side in the process. The overgrown lizard's face goes flat for a moment as he reads over Sir Walnut's last name several times, his eyes slowly narrowing as he stares in the applicant's direction. "Clamhat... No relation to Clam Chowder Head of the Ssspecial Chef Operations Outfit, I hope?" Sir Walnut stares at Wyvern with a confused expression on his face, then slowly proceeds to shake his head. "Good." Wyvern breaths a sigh of relief, then shakes Sir Walnut's application sheet in the air and lowers it to his snout to read the tale detailed there within. The reptilian Elder nods and scratches his chin once he's finished looking over the piece, then turns to Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat with a grin. "Nicccely done. This guy kinda reminds me of a modern suicidal version of Taleth the Black, you should check out some of Orlan's Assembly Room epics while yer over here." Wyvern taps the application sheet with one of his claws, tilting his head and letting his tail sway back and forth. "Good newsss is that, should you tire of living 'round these parts, you can always offer yer services as one of Minta's litch underlings... I'm sure one of our sorcery adepts would be happy to offer their services in rendering ya undead if ya requested it." Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat scratches his head and raises a brow at the offer, then watches as the overgrown lizard huddles near the Recruiter's desk with his application and raises a wing over it to hide what he's doing. He frowns and cranes his neck in an attempt to spot what Wyvern is up to, but calms his nerves when the lizard emerges with his ACCEPTED application story several minutes later. "Thisss'll do just fine." Wyvern hands Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat back his story with a smile, then feigns an expression of having forgotten something in an unconvincing manner. "Oh, and by the way, I found thisss note addressed to you on my desk. I think it'sss important." Wyvern hands Sir Walnut a small sheet of folded scrap paper with some messy words crawled on it in a near-illegible hand. The applicant squints as he tries to make out the supposed message: --- Dear Undydeyeing Asasin, Servent, da other Gawds and US all da other gawds this tyme, have an new asinemint for U. Yoo are too plase all yoor money in Almost Dragonic Inc. via th' I <3 Wyvern Fanclub, pronto cus time essen iz of the esense. This tax task tasc is mos' worthee of you. Don't bee like Equilos and giv a fraktion of your saving, give'em all it. No more tyme, have Gawd things too doo. Luv you, XXX. Sinserely, Covon Coven --- Wyvern whistles to himself and twiddles his claws as a blank expression falls over Sir Walnut's face. ;-) OOC: An ACCEPTED application, Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! :-) I enjoyed reading over this segment from the diary of an undying assassin, and am looking forward to reading more of your works, as well as to writing collaboratively with you in some community events when the opportunity arises. I hope you find the Pen a friendly and welcoming community to share your writing with, and that you develop a communal bond with some of the people here. :-) Once again, welcome!

Wyvern's scales flush from "ever-so-slightly" to "in-a-major-way" as CheerMynx's tightly packed English form falls on top of him with all the delicacy of an Almost Dragonic Brand Pure Rope Bungee Jumping Cable™. The overgrown lizard chokes out an exhilarated gasp as the cheerline's fine fur and lacey outfit press against his scales, his forked tongue falling loose and his wings and tail instantly tensing up. He tries his best to keep his visual focus away from all aspects of CheerMynx's body and her proximity to him, but fails miserably and goes google eyed as he tries to focus on thighs and neckline simultaneously. His jaw finally drops open in a stammer. "Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cheee-" CheerMynx raises a paw to pull off the bed drapes, but her tugs only seem to tighten the space of the curtains, along with the space between the two reporters. The fixated state of Wyvern's eyes tightens as well, and his stammering ends in a rasp as he takes a second to savor the moment in all its nerve-wracking glory. He tenses up even further as CheerMynx shifts forward in an attempt to pull a different part of the drapes, her knee wandering further up his scaly leg and her chest coming dangerously close to his snout. Wyvern clutches at the sheets of Wren's bed as CheerMynx's tantalizing angles shift with each attempt at tugging off the drapes, the proximity growing slightly closer with each pull. "Great." whimpers CheerMynx over an unhappy mewl from Snuffles, who is crushed flat in CheerMynx's bonnet and is mostly only able to see English fashion at this point. The cheerline shifts back down and lays her arms over Wyvern's chest, placing her head on her paws so she can see the lizard's face via Snuffles vision. "What do we do now, Wyv?" Wyvern pants in spite of himself as the sensation of CheerMynx's fur continues pressing against him. His thoughts still manage to register CheerMynx's question somehow, and he slurps up as much drool as he can muster before stammering a response. "o-O-OH." Wyvern's voice comes out much louder than expected in his state of excitement, his thoughts running over what the question might be refering to in his buzzing state of mind. "W-W-W-WHAT D-DO YOU M-M-MEAN?" "I mean how do we get out of these drapes?" CheerMynx looks at Wyvern with a quizzical expression, then pokes at the blue fabric above. "Like, I guess we could cut'em..." "N-N-NO." Wyvern clears his throat as the diabolical logic of the situation suddenly registers in his mind. His voice begins coming out as a squeak that gets more high-pitched as it goes along. "It's w-wrenny's b-b-birthday, w-we can't w-w-wreck her c-c-c-curtainsss. we'll j-j-j-just have to wait t-till ssss-sss-ssomeone sssaves us I g-g-g-g-guess! a-a-and, umm, w-w-we should p-p-p-p-prolly f-find s-s-s-ssssome w-way t-t-t-to k-k-kill time u-until then, y'know?" Wyvern strikes an extra-nervous grin, his thoughts in such an excited state that he doesn't hear the sound of the door to Wrenwind's quarters slamming shut again...

"Ohhhhh, lemme play! Lemme play!" Wyvern rushes up to the scene and, nodding to Norman, pulls a horseshoe from his orc sack. "Lisssten, in terms of geld, we're gonna have to discuss the cost. After all, you got these shoes from one of my brethren, and I think it'sss only right that I should get a test shot free." With that, Wyvern brushes the dust from his horns, licks his lips, and squints as he aims the horseshoe in the Raven's direction. The overgrown lizard levels his hand at an angle, takes three steps back, then twirls forward and swings out with the horseshoe with all his might. The horseshoe soars through the air, missing the Raven by a long shot and ricocheting off of a Cabaret counter. It flies up and hits the ceiling, then soars back down at a diagonal angle and spins around one of the legs of Mynx's table. The shoe then flies back in Wyvern's direction, knocking the lizard on the head and flooring him... but not before the horseshoe makes a few more spins on one of his horns and flies through the air at Norman...

The news cameras fade in and focus on a line of plush white teddy bears, which gradually increase in size as the cameras pan to the right. Each of the teddies holds a particular quill with a size appropriate to its stature, moving from a hatchling feather to a hawk feather to one of Gryphon’s feathers. The cameras pause as they reach a huge white teddy not holding a quill, and remain focused on the bear until a scaly claw reaches down and places a Roc feather in its arms. The image pans out to reveal Wyvern standing near the wide mahogany shelf holding the bears, a gang of feathers in hand. The room that Wyvern stands in is decorated in a bright English country style, with a wide variety of sentimental keepsakes that extend beyond just teddy bears. Decorative quills stick from behind Wyvern’s horns and from positions pinned in his tunic, their cheap and haggard appearance looking somewhat out of place in the fine décor of the chamber. “Greetingsss, and welcome to this week’s Almost Report.” Wyvern pulls out a note card and plucks one of the quills from the front of his tunic. He dips the quill into an old fashioned inkwell resting on a table in front of him and scribbles a few words on the note card, along with some mini-hearts and a few stick figure doodle hugs. “In another pre-emptive Pen birthday celebration, we’re broadcasssting to you live from Wrenwind’s west tower penthouse and are fessstively vamping it up with the appropriate B-day accessories. Hope ya have a great one, Wrenny!” Wyvern grins towards the cameras and unwraps a string of quills from one of his claws, hanging it over a collectible purple lamp that rests next to the inkwell on the table. The overgrown lizard examines the room for a moment before moving towards a pair of fancy swords that hang majestically on a wall. “Of courssse, these particular decorations ssstem from the recent celebration of the grounds of the Pen Keep, which have now been enchanted for 5 years going on strong.” Wyvern reaches up and hangs a large copper quill between the two fancy swords on the wall. He pauses to look it over for a moment, then scratches his chin and hangs a sign over the quill with the words “mightier than the swords” scrawled on it along with an arrow pointing down. “There’sss a lil’ celebration of the Pen going on in the Cabaret Room for any folks interested. Feel free to drop by and tack up a poem piece, eat a bit of blue cake, or jussst watch the friendly Pen troll romp by. 100% free, unlessss you wanna buy an Almost Dragonic Brand Extra-Crunchy Hobbit Bone Yog Snack™ beforehand. Thossse cost extra.” Wyvern turns and wanders over to an oak cupboard, opening it and examining the charming teapot collection within. The reptilian reporter’s eyes wander over floral designs and striped patterns before coming to the conclusion that the collection lacks a quill design. He grabs a plain white pot and begins tracing little quills on it, which look suspiciously like geld piece outlines in his almost dragonic hand. “In further Pen newsss, economic forecasssts show that the Pen’s pharmaceutical industry will boom in conjunction with the rise in demand for both blue and red pillssss for the recent Matrix Werewolf sign up." Wyvern shuts the cupboard and hangs another string of quills over its frame. “The 38th of the longstanding Werewolf Conservatory gaming tradition is certain to be otherworldly event, so sssign up if you want in. Almost Dragonic Inc. hasss started developing a crimson pill to market for the occasion, which should see completion around Werewolf LXXX.” Wyvern raises a claw and taps it along the wall of the chamber as he breezes over the eclectic collection of keepsakes, planting quills in a pot of dead roses and beside a shining crystal ball before making his way into the fancy bedroom of the penthouse. The overgrown lizard whistles as he looks over the various shades of silken blue that color the bedroom, and scratches his chin as he contemplates how to quill-ify it. “Last Pen newsss item of this report is Ozymandias’ latest Pen promotions announcement, which ssstates that the date of the next Pen promotions shall be February 1rst.” Wyvern strokes one of Wrenwind’s bed drapes, licking his lips as he estimates its price. “As usual, we’ll keep you updated on the state of said promotions, and will let you know if any tasssty scandals break.” Wyvern turns to examine the other side of the bed drapes, only to wrap the curtain around him as his tail stinger gets stuck in the fabric. The overgrown lizard grumbles and kneels to fix it, but gets one of his wing tips stuck in the curtain hooks and further complicates his tangled state…

Ah, gotcha Patrick, that sounds cool then. :-) I can only imagine what the concentrated moshpits are like at those shows... when moshpits have broken out at concerts that I've been to, they've generally spread through the crowd rather than having a designated area. I imagine things get a bit more rowdy when narrowed down to one place. Anyway, this evening, I went to see Oh No and Zeph & Azeem perform at the Shattuck Downlow in Berkeley. I'd seen a suspiciously small amount of promotion for this show, and unfortunately it didn't seem that the word had gotten out enough as there was a pretty terrible turn out to the event, possibly one of the worst I've seen. The venue got an ever-so-slightly larger crowd later in the evening, but for the most part, there must have been around ten people there watching it. I still did my thing in the front row, though, and the performers put on some pretty good sets despite the lack of crowd energy or participation. Zeph & Azeem were the first ones to perform, and they did their thing as usual. This must be the fifth or sixth time I've seen them put on a live show, and they always have creative concepts and infectious energy on stage. Plus, Azeem knows how to capture the audience's attention. One of the better bay area rap groups when it comes to throwing a live show, in my opinion. This time around, they brought out Marc Stretch to kick some verses with them, and Azeem played a couple of very good tracks from his older albums that he tends not to perform at live shows. They played a number of their live standards as well, and Azeem handed out a bunch of free CDs to the few people in the audience (I got two). Good set overall, marred only by the lack of crowd. Oh No, a renowned emcee from the Stones Throw collective who I hadn't seen live before but whose material I tend to like, came out next to perform. Oh No is mostly known as the brother of the uber-popular hip hop producer Madlib, though he's a talented producer and MC in his own right with his own distinctive bugged out style. He came on stage wearing a pretty neat Ecko jacket, and also brought along Roc C, another MC from the Stones Throw collective who just happened to be celebrating his birthday that evening. The two of them put on a pretty live set, with lots of beats and hooks oriented to getting a crowd hype in a live setting. Some highlights included Oh No's track "What the F***" with a beat that simply commands people to bob their heads, and Oh No and Roc C's rendition of "Move" produced by the late great J. Dilla. Speaking of J. Dilla, Oh No and Roc C commemorated his passing by playing a few of his famous tracks and rapping along with all the words. Roc C also had a chance to shine with a couple of solo tracks to celebrate his B-day with. Overall, it was a nice set, though the audience once again seemed pretty tame in comparison to what it could have been. I imagine these two performers have liver sets when performing to more enthusiastic packed crowds.

Nice poem, reverie. :-) The subject matter and approach are original and intriguing, and the whole theme of cultural generation gaps and their effects on perceptions makes for a very interesting read. The undertone of religion in the way that the nuclear dump might be interpreted in the future was nicely done as well, and provided some food for thought. I guess my only recommendation would be that the poem could probably be condensed even further to strengthen it... the second stanza in particular might be trimmed (somehow, my thoughts condense that stanza to "millenia from now/ will they still consider it sacred?") and the "Recently, a friend told me about" in the first stanza could be dropped as it doesn't seem to add anything. The third stanza is the strongest in my opinion, as its been cut down to its essentials and delivers its imagery very well. Good stuff reverie, thanks for posting it. It's nice to see you back again, has your volunteer work on the gulf coast ended? Please keep us updated in your "Life Decisions" thread anyway! Hope all's going well.

The cameras flicker back on with a shaky swerve, focussing on the sight of two troglyodyte makeup crew minions attempting to help the entangled CheerMynx to her feet. Wyvern stares off into the distance with his left eye twitching, missing a perfectly good opportunity to catch some interesting Carolina Panther skirt positions as he bubbles with a terrified sort of excitement. Perhaps it stemmed from the thought of CheerMynx's panther pride crushing him in her pounce moments earlier, or maybe he was just letting her balls comment bounce through his head to the tone of cheerline laughter, but either way his thoughts were clearly not on the scene of the camera disaster. The overgrown lizard hisses quietly and leans his head back where he stands, almost tipping over a valuable panther paw sculpture with one of his horns. He awakens from his reverie at the feel of one of CheerMynx's pompoms rustling against his face. "Hunh?" "Wyvvveeerrrrrrrnnnnnnnnn." CheerMynx stares at Wyvern with a slightly scolding predatory look. "I just asked, like, how was I?" "Oh! Great, great..." Wyvern instinctively reaches for the weekly cost sheet from his tunic and clears his throat as he unravels it. His scales seem to droop a bit as he notices the number of digits next to the cheerleader outfit, and he clears his throat again. "Great. J-j-jussst great. Lisssten, now I know the cheerleader look is in, but maybe we shouldn't pass on the posssibility of cheerfollower unifo-" "You don't like it?" CheerMynx sulks a little bit and looks up at Wyvern with eyes that look more like an innocent kitten's than a predatory feline's. "Oh no no no! I jussst errrr, the cost is kinda, that is, uhhhh... well, I just need to tessst it to make sure that it's the real product." Wyvern folds up the cost sheet and suppresses a twitching grin. "Just by rubbing the panther head, y'know, to make sure it's not a fake." "Oh. Well sure." CheerMynx tosses her hair back with one of her paws, then tilts her head back and sticks her chest out for easy access. "Just tell me when you're ready." Wyvern rubs his claws together and lets his tongue hang loose, responding in a mere seconds time. "ready" Wyvern slowly reaches out with a trembling claw to start feeling the panther head amongst other things, only to pause and frown when Snuffles steps out onto CheerMynx's chest with a proud "mew." The little kitten sticks his head up so that his panther head medal dangles in Wyvern's direction. "Yep." Wyvern lets out a dismal sigh as he rubs Snuffle's panther medal in one of his claws. "This is the real thing alright." ;-)

Wyvern passes by and tags Yog's poem with a large smiley face sticker, then tacks a slightly smaller parchment under the poem and begins scribbling words onto it with a quill. Wyvern raises his tail as he writes, nibbling on one of Mynx's cookies which has been impaled on his tail stinger. The fen-like smell from Grimmael's wet paint an insane grin on the Portrait of a saint, tidy brush strokes in polite ancient hand liver than Racouol in "Making of the Band" "Happy Birthday Mighty Pen," embedded in a poem from Dego's favorite fan club to Yui-chan's shadowed home, for nekkid mage and sexy man and cheerful Mynx alike, through high-elven Salinye and Phoenix burning bright. Where Guinea Pig and tigertaur can co-exist in peace wearing zombie skin tunics and samurai fleece. Cool sands of cerulean, Scarlett barbeque be it Silver Wind or Wrenwind breezing on through. Anyway, the bottom line ain't really nothing new: the most important part of the Pen is YOU. Wyvern pauses for a moment and picks a few cookie crumbs from his teeth with the edge of his quill, then snorts and scribbles something extra. Uhhh, so in case you don't have anything better to do you can add on a bit to this poem thing too. That way, if Yog doesn't know where you've been you can make a troll happy and better be seen.

The news cameras pan over a silky black sofa and its adjacent onyx counter, moving to the sound of sophisticated violin recordings in the background. The cameras focus on the portraits of several distinguished-looking cats in elegant attire that hang over the sofa until Wyvern’s reptilian face breaks the trend with its scaly snout and lack of monocle. The news cameras pan out a bit as Wyvern adjusts his position, revealing the full extent of the room’s luxurious décor as well as Wyvern’s scarlet smoking jacket and matching geld-shaded pajama pants. The reptilian Elder kicks his feet and tail up on a glass elk-shaped table that rests near an unlit fireplace, stretching his arms behind his horns with a smug look of almost dragonic relaxation. “Greetingssss, and welcome to the latest Almost Report. This week, to belatedly celebrate the birthday of a certain pennite while expanding our knowledge of feline predators, we’ve decided to broadcast to you direct from Lord Panther’s humble abode.” Wyvern removes his feet from the table and shifts his tail to a less visible position. “A belated Happy Birthday to you Panther, we’ll be decorating this place with confetti over the courssse of the Report plus I gotcha an Almost Dragonic Brand Werewolf-Sized Bear Claw Trap™ for yer RP gaming convenience.” Wyvern tosses a bit of shredded gift ribbon to make the couch more festive, then pauses and picks up a book entitled “The Psychology of Prey” from the elk table. The overgrown lizard flips through it, considers his situation with CheerMynx and the Report’s funding for a moment, then tosses it back down and lifts himself to his feet. He brushes that dark hair that’s naturally accumulated on the sofa from his smoking jacket, and dusts off his claws as he hisses: “And Lord Panther’sss birthday ain’t the only one being celebrated.” Wyvern tosses another clawful of cheap gift ribbon confetti into the air. “Though we’re technically a Monday Report, I’d like to extend my very bessst birthday wishes to Salinye, whose exuberant high-elf ways have filled the Pen with exciting events and a friendly presence for years. We already reported once from yer Hostel so that’s off-limits to our camera crew, but I’ve sssent an Almost Dragonic Brand Geld-Based Life Question Answer Guide™ to your quarters as a gift. All the bessst!” Wyvern wanders out of Lord Panther’s lounging room and sets about examining the rest of his quarters, sprinkling confetti rather than tossing it as his fascination gets the best of him. The kitchen and bar contain several glossy saucers to drink from and a menu of alcoholic beverages, all of which incorporate warm milk in some way or another. The expansive living room has a large window with a cushioned black mattress next to it for camouflaged sunbaths, along with trophy heads of a few formidable prey displayed on the wall. In some ways, it reminded Wyvern of Mynx’s quarters, but with a darker set of hues and far fewer weapons… and a bit more orderliness, possibly the byproduct of being a former Legionnaire. “In non-birthday related Pen newsss, the Mighty Cartographer Quill Quest continues to be open to applicants and that Almost Dragonic Brand Vampiric Batting Ball™ is still on the loose somewhere near the Cabaret.” Wyvern pauses as he notices the scaly head of a dragonic creature on Lord Panther’s trophy rack, and lets out a gulp as he considers himself prey. “A-alssso, if yer feeling less creative, we’d love to hear some o’yer thoughts on Music or Movies.” With that, Wyvern huddles back against a large statue of a pouncing panther and awaits the arrival of CheerMynx, a bit nervous on account of the thoughts of predatory felines running through his head…

With a flicker of static the darkness turns to a tilted and rather shakey image of Brute's old quarters, with static cutting across the lens ever so often and the visuals occasionally going wavy and losing focus. The lens still manages to capture CheerMynx and Wyvern, though, despite the horizontal angle and broken camera cord that lays coiled on the ground. "This is not, like, Next Top Tigress!" CheerMynx frantically tries to groom her fur and straighten her hair at once, standing next to the old bar counter and using the pane of glass that the unconscious troglyodyte had been holding as a makeshift mirror. The glass was transparent, but Snuffles was sitting at the other end of it and staring right at CheerMynx to give her a pretty clear reflection of herself. "I mean, there shouldn't be filming when I'm not prepped. Oh geeze, this hair could pass for a Ragdoll cat in yellow or something. And Sandra was ssoooooo supposed to give me a makeover." Wyvern ceases rubbing his temples and eases his pained expression a bit, still recovering from the sound of all the cameras clattering down. He groans and sets about watching CheerMynx prep herself, striking a small grin as he admires her in all her disheveled cheerline glory. The overgrown lizard's scales go a slightly deeper shade of red as he notices the familiar bright pink comb that CheerMynx uses... or maybe the presence of the fluffy handcuffs was continuing to cause his imagination to run away with itself. "Errrr *urp,* to anssswer yer earlier question, Mynxie, I think my night had something to do with hallucinegenic pollen and troglyodyte pyramids. Dunno... These quarters're prolly where all the hungover end up, one way or another." Wyvern reaches into his tunic and pulls out a small vine and a firecracker before finding a formal-looking sheet of paper. "By the way, I know that the Almost Intern Fashion Fund states 'per Report,' but thisss Report and last Report were kinda outfit-less and I was wondering if-" "Could you like, turn around for a bit Wyvern?" "Ah, s-sure." Wyvern grumbles and drums his claws on the tabletop as he shifts his position so that he's facing away from CheerMynx. He sighs over another savings opportunity lost and glances down at a camera lens with a look that could only be saying "if she's undressing, you better be recording." ;-)

I went and saw "There Will Be Blood" in theatres the other day. Good movie that details the rise and fall of a wealthy oil tycoon who tends to only view people as competition, loosely based on a novel by Upton Sinclair. The film is pretty dark for the most part, detailing the sorts of accidents that occur during oil drilling with a Western noir atmosphere somewhat remiscent of 'No Country for Old Men." The film stars Danny Day-Lewis as the oil tycoon and Paul Deno as an annoying church minister turned prophet, and both of them deliver in their respective roles, with the movie's 10 minute finale standing out in my mind in particular. On the downside, the film's a little long at 2 hours and 40 minutes in length, and it does drag at certain points, though the lag is worth enduring for the ending. I thought it was well done, overall. I also finally got around to watching Soffia Coppola's first movie, "The Virgin Suicides," which I thought was awesome. It's not quite on par with the brilliance of "Lost in Translation," but the aura of mystery and intrigue that Coppola strings through the lives of five sisters and their overly protective religious mother is nothing short of excellent. The story is narrated from the perspective of the boys that used to ponder over and long for the girls, and their frame of reference offers an interesting interplay between genders that makes the story all the more intriguing. As tragic as the general plot premise of the story is, it delivers quite a few different moods and emotions during the course of its duration and envelopes you with beautiful cinematography and sound. Kirsten Dunst is perfectly cast in the role as one of the sisters, and it's got a very brief cameo from Danny DeVito as a shrink as well. Highly recommended. On a side note, my favorite flicks from 07 were: "The Darjeeling Limited," "Grindhouse" (both films), and either "Eastern Promises" or "No Country for Old Men."