Wyvern

Wyvern curses to himself as he races into the Cabaret Room, glancing at his Almost Dragonic Brand Pocketed Watch™ and praying that it had somehow switched from being slow to ticking a few hours too fast. The lizard screeches to a halt and raises his claw to speak as he notices Peredhil seated on one of the comfortable chairs in the room, but goes quiet as he views the marvelous mood-setters that now decorate the Cabaret quarters. The way the dim lights reflect upon the small dove figurine that tops the cake make it seem as if firecrackers had never barraged the walls of the room or left their charred marks of cinder. Wyvern shakes his head and rubs his eyes, then strikes a thumbs up to Ayshela and grins at the sight of several gathered pennites. "Oooooo..." Wyvern grabs a handful of snacks as he passes by the refreshments table, cramming as many as he can into his mouth and chewing in voracious snaps. The reptilian tiptoes past the kneeling Mynx and the hugtackles of MinimondoT, and waits until the coast is clear before nudging Peredhil with a scaly elbow. "Feelin' any ruder yet? I would've been happy to offer you some free Bruteweiser belching lessons as a gift, but I figured it wasssn't your thing and pro'lly wasn't worth the costsss in arson damage anyhoo... besides, I figure ya ain't gonna be a cranky old geezer for many years to come. So I gotcha this instead!" Wyvern strikes a messy grin of snack pieces and pointy teeth, then pulls out a long pole with what appears to be a mechanical claw attached to the end of it. "An Almost Dragonic Brand Paraphernalia Pick-a-Parter™, perfect for sssorting through large piles of B-day paraphernalia and having it automatically seperated for you courteousy of monetary value-based circuitry. Everything the claw decidesss you don't want is then donated to Almost Dragonic Inc., where it will be altered to fit your general tassstes and then marketed for thrice the price!" Wyvern snickers, chokes on some crackers stored in his mouth, hacks and coughs a bit, then pats Peredhil on the shoulder. "Happy B-day, bud. You should look into getting yerself some cake, while there's still some to be had." With that, Wyvern winks and begins heading towards the towering pastry, the greedy look in his eyes growing with each approaching step... ;-) OOC: Happy Birthday, Peredhil.

The cameras pan around the Mighty Pen HQ newsroom as an off-key news broadcast melody cues up in the background. The visuals swerve, then focus on Wyvern sitting at the news reporter desk, picking at his snout with a claw. The overgrown lizard tilts his head as he notices the cameras, then quickly removes the claw from his nostrils and wipes the ash on his sleeve. "And now, this ssspecial report." Wyvern ignores the sound of Kassie's insane laughter in the background and clears his throat. "Many of those new to the Pen have been confused about the current process of validation. After regissstering an account here, it can currently take a few days before that account is validated and available for posting. Today, we'd like to dispell the rumors of almost dragonic pre-validation extortion and give you the cold, jiggly truth." Wyvern tilts a claw in the direction of Bob, and a boxed image of a can of spam appears at Wyvern's side. "The reason that accountsss must currently be validated by admins before they're available for posting isss due to a new internet phenomenon: message board spam botsss. These tiny mechanical entities, often set in motion via remote control, have been plaguing all types of message boardsss with truckloads of tasteless, non-Almost Dragonic advertisementsss. In the current validation process, the Elders of the Pen go through the accounts that have recently been registered and delete those that are obviously spam botsss. This keeps the Pen clean of spam, though there can be a waiting period of a few days before a legitimate registered account is available for posting. We hope that this measure will only be temporary, and extend our apologies to the newly registered for the validation waiting period." Wyvern ignores Kassie as she runs across the studio in the background with an unknotted straightjacket flailing in one hand. "To those who have newly registered here, pleassse be patient and don't become discouraged. We really appreciate your interest in the Pen and will validate your account shortly! And to those droning spam botsss with their bleeps and their "one-time-only-offers": get lossst before I decide to cram you into cans and sell you as Almost Dragonic Brand Metallic Tofu™! This is Wyvern Q. Almostdragon, signing ou-" A camera crashes over and the visuals turn to static. Cue crazed Kassie laughter...

I read through "H4x" this evening and enjoyed it, Zadown. :-) I was surprised by the modernity of the planar setting that you used in the story, as it was an interesting twist to the usual fantasy orientation that the Dreamer stories have taken. The "Matrix" influence was definitely apparent throughout, from the Dreamer's overcoat and shades attire to the city-scale battle with Guardian (heck, ya even refered to a "living matrix" feeding Guardian, heehee!), but the scenes were all very well-written and bad-ass in a way that only your Dreamer stories could evoke. The "lawful vessel" state of the people in the city was unsettling, and having the "insane" people be the ones who still try to use magic was a nice touch. I wasn't expecting the Dreamer to escape from the battle with Guardian, and the spot you leave him off at is interesting... I just hope it won't be a few years before the next Dreamer story shows up! On a side note, this story could probably use a more attractive title and subtitle to draw more people into reading it. ;-p I also hope that Fish Messiah has some decent backstory behind that name of his, 'cus it doesn't seem to be in line with the nick fashions of modern planes! Good stuff, Z. :-)

Interesting poem, Mardrax. My favorite part of it was the first stanza, as the way you switched up the tone with the line about crushing and mangling was a very nice twist. The rhyme scheme and structure of the second stanza were also very well thought out, though there were points where it seemed like certain words were only being used to fit the rhyme scheme of the poem, which felt a bit awkward. The allusion to Don Juan confused me... do birds have some significance in the tale of Don Juan? It's possible that birds were intended as sort of metaphor for women, though the Don Juan reference is the only part of the poem that would suggest it at this point. Anyway, interesting stuff once again, Mardrax. :-) Thanks for sharing it.

Wyvern gnaws on the tip of his quill as he reads over Ukai's fate and the abduction of Riad, then rummages through his pouch for a notepad to jot down some almost dragonic interpretations of the latest in Dark Lord fashions. The overgrown lizard nods and doodles a poor stick figure interpretation of black slacks along with a bunch of squiggly dollar signs for sport. He moves the quill with his snout, holding Kikuyu's story in one hand and the notepad in the other. "These Dark Lord types're all the sssame." Wyvern murmurs through the side of his mouth, causing the quill to twitch and adding jagged edges to an already-edgy doodle of a black vest. "You carry out their ordersss to a 'T,' and they beat ya down Mr. T style as a reward. I'd hate to see what this Dark Lord would do if his orders were carried out to a 'W'... I forgive'im for being his predictable old ssself, though." Wyvern spits the quill out of his mouth and raises Kikuyu's story in one claw and his notepad in the other. He glances between the two of them, comparing his horrendous doodles to Kikuyu's lavish descriptions. The overgrown lizard then nods in satisfaction and hands Kikuyu's story back. "Between you and me, that Riad guy got what he had coming." Wyvern nudges Kikuyu with a scaly elbow. "Fasssting is one thing, but an all-water diet is too awful to even think of. Ugh! *shudder*" Wyvern crumples his Dark Lord fashion doodles into a little ball and crams them into his pouch, then grins. "Thanksss for the Dark Lord pointers, those evil head honcho types might be suited for almost dragonic fashion exploitation. Pun intended." Wyvern begins wandering out of the Assembly Room, but pauses and turns for a moment near the exit. "Oh, and excellent donut plug! You would've ssscored 100 points under the A.R.S.E for that bit alone ;-)

"Yeeeesh!" Wyvern cringes at the sight of the Racouol-shaped indent in the Cabaret wall, and trembles in a drunken stupor as the miniature mooing cow cracker grazes dangerously overhead. The overgrown lizard rolls left and right on the ground in the hopes of expelling a bit of the Bruteweiser Dishwashing Solvent Guzzler from his system, only to pause and roll back to his original position as a sudden thought occurs to him. "Ssssay, cryptomancer." Wyvern nudges the grounded pennite with his tail stinger and stares up at the flames near the ceiling. "Today's yer*urp* birthday in'*hic*it?" "Yeah." Cryptomancer continues to hold his hands over his head as the fairy lantern firecracker bombs past him at a dangerous angle. He lets out a sigh of relief and turns his head to face Wyvern, only to freeze as he see's the grin on the lizard's face. "I-I mean no, no- no! Definitely not! False alarm Wyv, it was a uhh, one of those time zo-" "Aaaawwwwwww don't be sho *hic* modesssst." Wyvern snickers and pulls out a bottle of Bruteweiser Nether Spirits along with a fleet-seeking Raven firecracker. "Here's to yer company and good health, ya lightweight!" Wyvern rasps a long laugh between firecracker explosions, then proceeds to chug the Bruteweiser Nether Spirits in a single go. The reptilian Elder reels and somehow manages to trip head over heels while still lying down. Cryptomancer grimaces and begins crawling away as fast as he can, listening to the sound of fleet-seeking Raven's fuse over the loud explosions. He grumbles something about Wyvern's wishes of good health being premature, then ducks and covers as the Hephaestus knife firecracker swings its course over head. The birthday pennite breaks into a sweat, clearly hearing the Raven cracker's fuse hiss faster and faster... OOC: Happy Birthday, cryptomancer. ;-)

Kikuyu Black Paws leaned back against a shady file cabinet and crossed his arms over his chest, carefully counting the ticks of the room's Rolodex clock with an increasing sense of annoyance. For all of the applicant's berserker skills, ninja techniques, and pirate bravado, he had no way of summoning Wyvern to the recruitment quarters. And judging by the amount of time that had lapsed since he'd first hid himself within the shadows of the Office, it was going to take the patience of the highlands and lowlands combined (the Irish Main being irrelevent when it comes to patience) just to endure the waiting period. Kikuyu raised his head as a clacking sound disrupted the monotone ticking of the Office clock. He turned towards the open Office window, and stood up straight as he noticed a bandage-covered tail latching onto the window sill like a grappling hook. Two bandage-covered claws quickly complimented the wrapped tail, and a rather wounded-looking Wyvern slowly shoved himself in through the window. The overgrown lizard collapsed into a jumbled pile of Office documents, then lifted himself with a sound of snapping tendons. "Ssssssorry for the wait." Wyvern grunted and staggered forward with a dizzy step. Kikuyu frowned and grabbed the lizard by the arm before he could fall, then directed him to a seat by the Recruiter's desk. "What's with the bandages?" "Oh, nothing. They're, errrr..." Wyvern fished for his Devil's Advocate folder, then pulled out two blank sheets of paper and handed them to Kikuyu. "A new fashion line, which I think I'm gonna call Almost Dragonic Brand Weremumkey Plus™. Those're my fashion designer and sarcaphogus owner credentials, ressspectively." Kikuyu stared at the blank sheets with an equally blank expression, then tossed them into one of the large Office piles as Wyvern turned to his application sheet. "Hmmm..." Wyvern toyed with a loose end of white bandage and twisted it from claw to claw as he read over Kikuyu's application story. "I sssee you've had some experience dealing with winners of the 'most hated crime lord' competitions. I've never really qualified as a crime lord so I've never been able to compete in thossse things, though I have recieved a dishonorable mention or two." Wyvern reached into his desk and pulled out a placard with the words "Villain Most Likely to Accidentally Expose a Crime Lord as an Accomplice" written on it. The lizard waved the "award" in front of Kikuyu's face with a grin, then slid it back into a desk drawer and set Kikuyu's application piece aside. "Lessee here, referencesss." Wyvern tapped a claw on his desktop with a slight snapping-claw-bone sound. "For further bessserker practice, you prolly wanna see Aardvark. Madoka can train you in the mastery of samurai sheperding, though I haven't ssseen her around for ages. On the pirate side of things, waiting for the next International Talk Like a Pirate day is the bessst option I suppose. Oh, and your squirrel friend might wanna seek out Lewis and Simon, if they still scurry around these quarters." With that, Wyvern stamped Kikuyu's application ACCEPTED, then promptly collapsed over to rest his Weremonkey-weary bones. OOC: An ACCEPTED application piece, Kikuyu Black Paws. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! I hope you find us a warm and welcoming community to share your writing with. I look forward to reading future stories of yours, as well as to creatively interacting with you in various threads. Apologies for the waiting period, and welcome once again!

Beautiful poem, Cerulean. I love your word choice, as words like "danderdandled" and "susurrations" really stood out to me and caught my attention. The way you phrased the ending of the poem was also very elegent and evocative, with the rhyme scheme really complimenting the softening of the silence. Sorry to hear of Doctor Dog's passing. He couldn't have had a more beautiful elegy, and I hope that the silence truly has softened since you wrote this.

Last night, I saw the "Hell Freezes Over Tour" featuring Typical Cats, Qwel, Outerlimitz, DJ Om and Influence at the the Elbo Room in San Francisco. Since the lineup and venue are essentially the same as the previous Typical Cats concert I reviewed in this thread, I won't go into too much detail in this review. There were a few noteworthy differences from the previous Typical Cats show I reviewed, though. Outerlimitz's set included Silence this time around, a member of the group who wasn't touring with them during their last show at the Elbo Room. He had a lot of stage presence due to his height and danced around the stage while Outerlimitz performed... he even came out wearing a freaky monster mask when they started their set with the track "Nightmare." Influence also brought along a sort of crew, including an R&Bish type singer who crooned a few choruses throughout his set. Qwel and He.llsent (of Outerlimitz) also performed some new tracks from their respective albums dropping in October. Unfortunately, hell did not freeze over as a result of this show, as sound difficulties began distorting the sets early on and only got worse as the show progressed. Qwel still managed to get the show pretty hype with creative interpretations of his tracks over mainstream gangsta beats, but overall a lot of the performances were reduced to struggling to be heard over noise. Probably the least impressive Galapagos4 show I've seen, though it's not the fault of the performers since just about any act would struggle with a sound system like that. I forgot to bring my camera to this show, so no pics or videos I'm afraid... refer to the previous Typical Cats concert review in this thread if you're curious.

Wyvern hobbles into the Cabaret Room with an awkward strut, almost tripping over a loose end of the white bandages that cover him from head to tail. The overgrown lizard double-checks to make sure that there are no enraged gargantuan Weremonkies anywhere near the Cabaret quarters, then grins through his bandages and takes a stand at a podium near the Mighty Pen's film review guide. He adjusts the position of the bandages around his neck, then sets a projector on the tip of the stand and shines it onto a blank canvas that hangs on the opposite wall. "Ladiessss and gentlemen, I'd like to discuss an important piece of sociological cinema with you for a brief moment." Wyvern flicks a switch on the projector, and the words "Snakes on a Plane" appear in bold on the canvas. "Thisss beautiful movie documents the free will and spirit of serpent-kind, while sssimultaneously providing a guideline for fellow reptilians to live by." Wyvern taps at the projector, and the image switches to a freezeframe from the film, depicting Samuel L. Jackson holding up a dead snake with a tired look on his face. "The film clearly shows the outright discrimination and hatred made towards snakes and their reptilian brethren, and the courageous yet ultimately hopeless war that the snakes wage for their own independence and dignity as a race. Even as the snakes struggle against the barriers of man and Mother Nature's winds, their determination to make a stand is sssimply undeniable." Wyvern raises a clenched claw proudly. "In all their heroism, they are blamed by the human race as being (quote Samuel L. Jackson) 'on crack,' and are viciously slaughtered with axes, blowtorches, shoe heels, and microwave death traps. Yet, throughout the ordeal, the humansss recognize the persistancy and determination of serpent-kind. Reptilians will leave the theatre with a sense of empowerment, knowing that the mark of the snake hasss been made." Wyvern taps the projector again, and the image switches to another freezeframe, this one of a snake biting a woman's nipple. "The film alssso provides invaluable knowledge to reptiliansss everywhere. For example, if you move too fast with a gal in an intimate situation and she gets upset, the film demonstrates that you can just blame it all on pheromone-enhanced flowers! All in all, I encourage intellectual reptilians and humans alike to indulge in this well-crafted work of philosophical cinema." With that, Wyvern strikes a stiff-bandage bow and removes the projector from the film review stand. The black asp on Wyvern's leg hisses loudly, then uncoils itself from its position and begins slithering through the pennite crowds, searching for a ventilation grid to slide into... or another unsuspecting pennite's leg to attach itself to. ;-) OOC: Thus ends the black asp's position coiled around Wyvern's leg... "Snakes on a Plane" met all of my expectations. A hilariously bad movie that cracked me up the whole way through!

Emotional pain and alienation definitely seem to be at the forefront of these poems... rest assured that many people at the Pen share similar problems and worries. I'm sure that I speak for several folks here when I say that I sympathize with the themes of these pieces. :-) The third one was my personal favorite of the bunch, as the sense of loneliness amongst people in crowds is something I've experienced as well. The rhythm definitely gave it a sense of song, and I'm sure a musical accompaniment would only make it better. Welcome to the Pen, Faith in Night. :-) I hope that you find many a kindred spirit here.

Wyvern glanced from the tiny white bed in the palm of Mardrax's hand to the pleased expression on HawkWing's face in fascination. The reptilian Elder pocketed his 50 geld and raised a claw to make a statement, only to find himself lacking the words to express the difference in size. Wyvern grumbled to himself and shook his head, then turned to leave only to freeze up as a strange sensation took hold of him. He stood still for a long moment, then slowly turned back towards HawkWing and Mardrax with a toothy sneer on his face. "Hardy Har Haarrrr." Wyvern's beady eyes flashed a strange shade of blue, and his voice took on a deeper and more rugged tone. The spirit of Morty "Codfish" McCernan seemed to hover around the lizard's nonchalant claw gestures and sense of bravado, savoring the last fleeting moments of International Talk like a Pirate Day. "And how're ya goin' ta fit yer bulky landlubbin' bones in that tiny shrimp of a cushion? I wouldn't think ya'd even manage to fit a jag o' dat frozen octopus hair o' yers, harharhar!" Wyvern stuck his chin up and flexed his scaly not-so-impressive chest. The black asp on his leg seemed to parrot his words with hisses. "I ain't afraid o' no feathery monkey-tailed buffoon." Wyvern raised a claw and shook it at HawkWing. "I could give ya a full moon right here, and it would still end with my salty spit in yer face, harharhar!"

Ikuru continued to toss his head back and forth as they passed through the low mire and hanging limbs of dead trees. The branches seemed to be reaching out to Kaikushi, but fell short with each slow motion forward. At the speed they were progressing, the trees seemed completely apathetic to their travels. Kaikushi turned his head upwards to breath the hints of fresh air that drafted through the cracks in the fog pines above. He shut his eyes and pretended to dream, as if someone was paying attention to him and he wanted to escape. Ikuru was moving very slowly, but the excitement in his whinnies was still apparent. Soon, nisan, soon... Kaikushi reached out to pat Ikuru on the head, but eased away from it as the horse kicked its head back and let out another whinny. He smiled at Ikuru's enthusiasm, then breathed a quiet sigh at his own emptiness. He would never experience the joy of purpose, that solid comfort of servitude. These were the days of marionettes, where swordsman showdowns were relived through puppets on the dojo string. No place for the loner blade, with wars passed and friends perished. He smelled the precious air for no reason. The red Sun had begun to recede to Winter night when they exited the swamp. Ikuru stepped slowly onto the Akido plains, continuing to rock his head back and forth in loud whinnies. The tall grass glistened in the fading sunlight, still wet with snow. Lights of Great Hakido lit the background like fireflies, and they felt the warm glow of Winter carnival nights. Staring over those lights, Kaikushi felt something that he had never felt before. He and Ikuru had crossed the entirety of Japan and come full circle, back to their point of origin. The season differed, but the sight still struck Kaikushi as... familiar. He had visited here before. He knew that there was an unagi merchant who sold meals at half-price at nightfall near the edge of Hakido. He knew that young lovers fondled one another near the Forked Keirno Well, a little ways East of the city. He knew that the people of Hakido viewed the sai and scyth as satanic weapons, and forbidded their presence. All was familiar to him. It was as if, suddenly, Japan had become a massive home. As if- Nisan?! Ikuru collpased over, sending Kaikushi flying off of his back and into a wet patch of still-melting snow. The lone samurai jumped back to his feet and stared down at his horse, shocked and bewildered. Swamp leeches covered Ikuru's legs and stomach, sucking away at them viciously, their pale white forms steadily growing red with blood. Ikuru continued to kick back his head and whinny, helpless. Kaikushi tried to speak. All the traveling he'd done with Ikuru, and the sound he had mistaken for excitement had been pain. He truly knew no one. "Ikuru..." A single tear trailed down Kaikushi's cheek as he unseathed his katana, stepping towards the writhing form of Ikuru in slow and steady steps. The red Sun burned the last of its embers under the Hakido hills. Japan was his home, and it didn't mean a thing.

Interesting poem, Mardrax. :-) I found the rhyme scheme somewhat jarring as I read through it and was initially going to criticize it... but observing the way that the poem is structured, I think the form seems to work well in conveying the drunken awkwardness of the situation. I particularly like the way that the lines get progressively longer and more jumbled in the first stanza, as the stilted feel of the lines really complimented the drunken dancing of the girl. The ending of the poem was the only part that didn't quite vibe with me in the end, mainly because I felt that the tone and the word choice of the last line had a more down to earth feel than the eloquent phrasing chosen to describe things in the rest of the poem (i.e "empty patch of floor," "drunken haze," etc.) Yet another interesting take on poetic form from you, Mardrax. :-) Thanks for sharing it, and keep up the good work.

Wyvern watches cryptomancer's eyes go wide as the bottle rockets begin soaring throughout the room. The mage yells and drops to the floor as srsizzy's Fizzy Plus Bottlerocket swerves and misses his head by a few inches, exploding against an antique Cabaret Room vase and giving the "well blown" part of cryptomancer's statement new meaning. Rockets and beers of all shapes and sizes careen through the air in a light rain of foaming alcoholic beverages. "Here'sssss to Racouol!" Wyvern raises a bottle of Bruteweiser Dishwashing Solvent Guzzler attached to a metallic firecracker painted frying pan silver. The lizard jumps back as Asmadeus' odd gizmo firecracker goes twirling past him at dangerous speeds, then pauses a moment and pulls out a bottle of Bruteweiser Chaotic Successor Brew with a fairy lantern firecracker. The lizard yells over the sounds of explosions that echo throughout the room. "And to Azuran! Two aging pennites of yore. Bottomsss up!" With that, Wyvern pops the corks of the two bottles and proceeds to guzzle them simultaneously, ignoring the frenzy of bottle rockets that continues to soar in every direction throughout the Cabaret quarters. The lizard drops the bottles and lets out a loud belch of flames once he's finished, staggering forward in a drunken stupor and somehow evading the crash collision course of Thinas' elven arrow firecracker in the process. The reptilian Elder curses as he trips over the kneeling cryptomancer, falling over just as troubled sleep's megalomaniac cigar firecracker sails over head. "Well *hic*" Wyvern shifts his position on the ground and turns to cryptomancer, wincing at the sound of a loud explosion. "Thish doeshn't look good... what to *hic* do?" OOC: A Happy Birthday to Racouol, and a belated Happy Birthday to Azuran. :-) I hope that you had great ones, and also hope you guys don't mind having your celebrations confined to this thread. The current Pen RP character drought has limited my birthday storyline capacity to one a month... >_

Last night, I went and saw Pigeon John, Busdriver, and Caural at the Bar of Contemporary Art in San Francisco. I was a bit nervous about this trip, since it was my first time traveling solo from Berkeley to San Francisco for a late night show while relying soley on public transportation. Fortunately, there's a crowded late night bus that runs by the hour from San Francisco to Berkeley, so I had no trouble getting around despite the lack of car (and license, for that matter >_ Anyway, onto the concert... The show took place at the BOAC, a tiny and intimate bar that had no concert stage to speak of. The set up was two speakers on the ground and two hanging from the ceiling, with a projector in the back showing some latin video thing on mute. There wasn't any line established to seperate the "stage" from the crowd, which resulted in many of the acts performing right next to people in the audience. Electro-wizkid Caural started things off with a solo set of his beats, which he mixed and manipulated while working his MPC drum machine. He put on an excellent and varied mix of beats that, unlike electronica acts like Prefuse 73, managed to stay consistantly interesting live. One highlight of his set was a beat that used the theme music from the original 6-bit "Legend of Zelda," which was mixed very well and sounded great over Caural's complex drum patterns. I was surprised at how good he was at performing solo, and am definitely looking forward to his new album in October. After Caural's solo set, Busdriver took the stage with Caural backing him as a D.J. Known for his insane styles and rapid-fire delivery, Busdriver was one of the main reasons I decided to come out to the show. As usual, he pretty much went crazy and delivered. I'm not a fan of *all* of his recent music, but you have to respect whatever direction an amazingly eccentric talent like this takes. The tracks ranged from mindboggling speed rap rhythms to echoey distorted singing, which he enabled via a foot pedal that changed the sound feedback on his microphone. He went so far as to use two microphones on some tracks to enable multiple effects at once. Some highlights of his set included his always-impressive standout track "Imaginary Places," and a new track called "Whooptie Doo" where he went into the crowds and put one arm around different people in the audience while rapping about their current situation. He's one of the best M.Cs to emerge from L.A's prestigous Project Blowed collective, and remains an inexhaustible source of energy live. Caural did his part in backing Busdriver well, going into some daring drum patterns that challenged Busdriver's flows. Great set. Once Busdriver and Caural finished their set, bTwice took to the boards and Pigeon John came out to perform as the evening's headliner. While Busdriver was the greater of the stylistic madmen, Pigeon John put on the best set of the show. What's great about Pigeon John's music is that it's always a load of fun, and the concert really turned into a party after he started summoning the crowds participation with his charismatic humor. There was one point where he put his finger on the lips of a guy who'd been standing still in the front row frowning the entire evening, and he managed to make the guy smile despite the guy's best efforts not to do so. At another point, Pigeon John had the crowds come really close in a circle around him as he performed the track and distributed high-fives. Unlike Busdriver's relentless onslaught, PJ also varied up the moods of his tracks a lot, bouncing from upbeat singing to serious storytelling with the greatest of ease. To top things off, he brought out Lyrics Born as a surprise guest M.C to perform a couple of verses with him, but Pigeon John definitely stayed in the limelight the whole time. A great set... people who doubt that hip hop shows can be a good time should check his live act out! To finish off this review, here's something new from me: a slice of video footage! The lighting of the venue wasn't good for taking videos, so the visuals are very shady and hard to make out, but here's a snippet of Busdriver performing a part of his yet-to-be-released track "Recreational Paranoia." (Edit: embedding the video within the post didn't seem to work, so here's a link to it) Notice how close to crowd he is. ;-) The many advantages of concerts at intimate venues! According to Busdriver, this track only really works in German nightclubs at three in the morning. EDIT (10/22/06): A professional video of a snippet of Busdriver's set from this show surfaced on youtube, so I thought I'd provide a link to it here. I'm the guy grooving out in the front row: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kYkq_I7VAL8 Yay for moving about while others only bob their heads. ;-p

Nice poem, cryptomancer. :-) "Exotic" is the first word that comes to mind to describe it, as details like the "acacia thorns" and the "dervish" really helped in giving this poem an intriguing foreign feel. I liked the "kiss of dry air" line in the second stanza, as the notion of a kiss being dry really fit the feel of the setting to me and made the atmosphere of the grassy plains come to life. I also really liked the use of alliteration in the second to last line, as it was an interesting arrangement of words that caught my attention and gave the soul a very mystical feel. I actually think that the second to last line might work better as an ending for the poem than the current last line, as the abstraction of "breathing ageless eternity" was vague to me and didn't seem as original as the rest of the piece. I also think that the subtitle of the poem might work better as a title than the current title... something about the phrasing of "I from africa... mmmm, in my blood it is" bothers me. Perhaps the possible implication that African people speak in broken English? I dunno if that's it, but something there bugs me. Anyway, nicely done. :-) A very vivid and exotic interpretation of daydreams.

Automated manorah candles plugged by stained glass outlet. The pre-amp sermon: mic check, one to the Power. The fluorescence above, the humming tubes of electric light. Shine on through jagged Jesus graf, circle the new age religion, the freewheel parted sea of modern plague. Our prayer call, beyond static hymn, to the telephone wire bonding churches through religion.

Good poem, Psimon. :-) I really like the tone that you used for this piece, as it felt like a scientific diagnosis of a relationship and struck me as very original and evocative. Your word choice was similarly very well done, with the interesting scientific terminology like "incubation" and "Symptoms" standing out to me in particular. The underlying emotions of the piece were also strongly conveyed. The one stanza that I thought could be refined a bit more was the second stanza, as the last two lines of it didn't seem to add much to the poem in my opinion. The fifth line of the second stanza might also be shortened a bit, perhaps by either dropping "potentially" or "the." Definitely a good poem, Psimon. :-) The consistant tone and phrasing stood out, and the emotions of the piece were nocely conveyed. Well done!

Wyvern grits his teeth and winces as he shoves the second beer keg into position. The moldy metallic cylinders sit next to each other like a set of Alcoholics Anonymous turntables, complete with a crossfader dashboard for dispensing booze from their taps. The phrase "Happy Birthday Brute" is a bit difficult to read under the rust of the kegs, but the "Almost Dragonic Brand Bruteweiser Emergency Supply™" tag reassures the pennite crowds that there shouldn't be much of a difference in taste. Once a rot gut, always a rot gut. "It'sss all set!" Wyvern rubs his claw together and squeals excitedly, wandering down the long line of different Bruteweiser bottles set across the Cabaret Room floor. Attached to each of the varying bottles is a different shade of firecracker, though all of the explosives have one identical trait: a short fuse. Wyvern licks a claw and pulls a crumpled sheet of paper from the mouth of the black asp on his leg. "Lemme just double check here, hmmm." Wyvern slowly walks from bottle to bottle in short steps, reading the checklist out loud for all to hear. "Bruteweiser Dark- Drow Vintage™ with accompanying elven arrow firecracker for Thinas' B-day, check! Bruteweiser Dwarven Ale Substitute with complex multi-purpose firecracker gizmo for Asmadeus' (belated) B-day, check! Bruteweiser Fizzy Plus with imitation Hephaestus knife firecracker for srsizzy's (belated) Birthday, check! Brutweiser Canada Wry with miniature mooing cow firecracker for Tyrions' (belated) B-day, check! Bruteweiser Caffeinated All-Nighter Formula with evil megalomaniac cigar firecracker for troubled sleep's (belated) Birthday, check! Bruteweiser Silver Distilled with angelic flight course firecracker for Vincent Silver's (belated) B-day, check!" Wyvern grins and tosses the sheet aside, then snaps a claw in the air and turns to the gathered pennites. "If there are more that haven't been celebrated but earn a toast, grab your own Bruteweissser bottle and chug it in one swig in honor of'em. For now, may the party begin!" Much to the horror of those who have gathered, Wyvern takes out a single match, and lights it on the back of one of his horns... OOC: A Happy Birthday to Brute, Thinas, and all those who participate here that I haven't managed to acknowledge in a creative post. Consider yourselves thought of and appreciated. ;-)

Judging by this scene, it definitely looks like a cute story Silus. :-) I like the interactions between Koja and S, and enjoyed the Pigloo's pun-ish name and continual monotonous oinks. His tranformation process was cool, though I couldn't help but draw comparisons to Meatwad* from Adult Swim's Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Perhaps Pigloo is Meatwad's distant cousin, only with an aversion to turning into a hot dog due to his pork background? This scene was a bit confusing me due to the lack of context... would it be possible to fill us in with a brief rundown of what's happened in the story so far, up to the beginning of this scene? Anyway, it's difficult to judge by a single scene, but this story looks fun and enjoyable. :-) Out of curiousity, in what way are you and Zepheri collaborating on it? Are you each writing seperate posts for it, or are you collabing on it line by line? Thanks for sharing this here. * I'm no Adult Swim expert, but Meatwad can only transform into a frank or an igloo if I'm not mistaken. Thanks, Dangerdoom!

"Hey! HEY!" Wyvern threw his arms in the air and let out a snort of disbelief, storming towards HawkWing and Mardrax in a fit of waving scales. The overgrown lizard pointed an accusatory claw at HawkWing. "Lemme remind you that there's a manditory 50 geld fee for letting chilly air into the room, so better pay up now! I should be charging you for the front door as well, but I'm in a forgiving mood today... Consider it part of the discount." Wyvern turned his claw in the direction of Mardrax and opened his maw to blare out obscenities, but paused as he viewed the rock and egg that he held in his hands. The lizard covered his snout with a claw and began snorting with laughter, nudging HawkWing lightly with a scaly elbow. "Yeah, so *snicker* what'll it be HawkWing?" Wyvern waved his claws towards Mardrax's two objects in a noble bow. "A rock to sleep on and a single egg for breakfast for 100 geld, or a rug to sssleep on and a full four-course cardboard breakfast for 800 geld?" The overgrown lizard grinned confidently and rubbed a claw on his shirt, wearing down the cheap fabric in the process. "I think the wissse decision is obvious here. Besides, I'm certain a haircut would be worth more than 700 geld to you at this point..."

Wyvern bursts into the Assembly Room with a claw full of blood-soaked pamphlets, waving them in the air and sending gangrene flying through the room. "Or if you can't afford Spookyberg National Parklands, why not give the Almost Dragonic Brand Mummified Wasssteland Memorial™ a shot! Ssset in the rotting flower garden that they were gonna use for Michael Jackson's "Thriller" video before switching to a graveyard, this spot'sss got the junk and the funk! Who needsss Ectoplasmic Discharges when you can roll with Ectogasmic Discotheques? WARNING: creaturemorehideousthananythingSpookyberghastoofferlurks,leaveswhitegloves. Memorial prohibited to children under eight year's old when accompanied by parental guardians." ;-p OOC: Ghastly good propaganda, Aardvark. ;-) At this rate, you'll end up being the Steve Irwin of comic vignettes, mauled by a zombie in the middle of writing a perfectly good defense of abstinent religions. I don't know whether to thank you, or to start digging your grave right now. I think I'll go with the latter.

Moving back to the central subject of the thread, I've switched around a few of the forums in coordination with the options proposed in this thread. If people don't like the changes, switching them back to their original locations is an easy process. Here are the changes that were made: - The Greenroom is now a subforum of the Conservatory. It is available for Honored Guests to read, but you can only post in it if you're an Initiate. Incentive to join. *wink wink* - The Critic's Corner is now a subforum of the Assembly Room. Like the Greenroom, Honored Guests can currently read it, but only Initiates can post in it. I'm not as certain about this switch as the Critic's Corner does contain threads based on poetry in it. Another Critic's Corner could be made for the Banquet Hall, as Quincunx suggested, if there ends up being a demand for it. - The Courtyard has been moved from the Passageway to the Minstrel Hall, and the permissions settings have been changed accordingly. From what I gathered from this thread, people wish for it to be a place where they can archive their works safely amongst people who they've known for a long while. Since the process of accepting Initiates is so swift (yaaay me ;p), I thought the forum might be better suited for the Page and up area of the Pen. Anyway, let me know what you think of these changes. I was generally going by the options posted in this thread, and just chose my favorites out of them... things can quickly be changed back to the way they were, or can continue to be changed in other ways if you prefer. Thanks to Sweetcherrie, Quincunx, and Yui for getting the ball rolling on the forum rearrangement, and thanks to Wrenwind for the second opinions on IRC while these changes were being made. Peace y'all.

They spent the rest of the day traveling under the shade of the tall Elrai oaks, exchanging words ever so often but mostly just listening to the forest. She seemed to be a quiet one, and Clef wasn’t about to complain after her ordeal. Wasn’t as if talking was going to speed up the trip anyhow. Still, as they passed under some low hanging branches, he watched her lift her head and wondered how often she’d dodged branches at her home before the East. He wondered if her father had taught her to step between brambles the way she did, or if that dress of hers had been sown by her mother before it was ripped under the dirt of human hands. He wondered what kind of family those long ears of hers were from, and what kinds of sounds she heard with them when everything seemed quiet. Niina. Out of all the names she could have chosen, it was Niina. They set down to rest for the evening in a clearing where thick patches of grass were strewn like blankets under an open spread of sky. The Summer night was warm, and they each lied down on a separate spot of grass, staring up at the stars. An owl hooted faintly from a tree branch far above them, and the silver moonlight seemed to carve a smile on the trunk of a nearby oak. “Y’know…” Clef broke the silence of the grove, staring straight up at the sky and pushing his pitchfork to the side with an elbow. “You’re gonna need some grub for traveling West. Long ride.” Her musical voice sang softly from her spot on the grass. “Grub?” “Food.” Clef smirked a bit. “Know someone in Dyaar who can fix us up, owes me a favor. That’s only a skip away from Edmeer. He’ll lodge us too, I reckon. Probably the best route. Elrai wood weaves West, at any rate, so we’ll need to risk the common trails come sun rise.” Clef stared up at the stars, his eyes fixed on the spot where Lymnor’s Quill used to be. He was only a boy when pops had pointed out the constellation from the porch, but momma’s presence beside him made it linger in his mind. She was on a stool behind him, ruffling his hair with those big hands of hers, talking ‘bout how Lymnor wrote the sky with his own two hands. After she’d passed away giving birth to Miima, one of those stars in that long curving pattern had disappeared. Clef had never seen the full Quill since. “Well, g’night.” Clef rolled over and shut his eyes, feeling the quiet of the clearing. He reckoned that Niina had already fallen asleep, which wasn’t surprising given the trek and that leg of hers. The owl hooted somewhere distant as a long silence passed. “Clef?” Clef opened his eyes and shifted his head at the sound of her voice, trying to see her resting spot in the shadows. She was only an outline. “Hmm?” “… why are you doing this for me?” Clef blinked, then stared back up at the stars. The Ageless Steer was in full view this evening, in all its jagged glory. “A second chance.” Clef sighed a bit as he let the words fade into the warm air of the clearing. He knew they were lost on her, but he wished she understood. “Well, I dunno. Might just be runnin’ from home. Pops sent me to fetch an oxen, there was no luck. You know how it is, he’d be right furious. And, well, I wasn’t just going to leave you there.” “The stars must speak of you, tonight.” Niina’s voice was so soft that Clef swore he could see her tender eyes through the darkness. “Clef. I-I really don’t…” Her voice trailed off into silence, and Clef lied awake until he was sure she had nothing more to say. He shifted over and shut his eyes, letting the warm feel of Summer and distant owl’s call pull him into sleep.