Wyvern

Wyvmettic "Hey, wait!" Wyvmettic raises a foil-covered claw to the car muffler adjacent to his snout. "Calaethis, you forgot to take one o' these!" Wyvmettic raises an iron flask of wine in the air and shakes it a few times, hoping the heavenly figure will extend a hand down to grab a bit of party juice. He stands in this position for several minutes, then tires under the weight of his suit and lowers his arm with a clank. "Pleasssse don't send us any rain, and thanks for dropping by!" Wyvern turns to the lounge and shoves the huge sheet of rotating dancefloor metal to the center all by himself. He raises a claw to wipe the sweat from his brow, then curses as he realizes that his brow is covered by his mask. The lizard clanks his way onto the dancefloor, and then begins moving in jerky robotic movements as a pounding techno beat cues up. A titanium orb extends from the ceiling on a string, and begins flashing pale light across the room. "Parrrtaaaayyy!" Wyvmettic clunks back and forth. "C'mon, I know some o' you Iron Works folks like to work your iron on the dancefloor. Tell Johnny the booze has been provided, somebody get Sever and TAOwolf out here! Check on that Wyvern chick- I need a dance partner before my jointsss get rusty!"

Calaethis Dragonsbane *in a staunch anti-rping display of defiance…* Calaethis Dragonsbane drops in from the heavens to say 'hi'. So... hi! Welcome to IWs! Hope you have a great time and a lot of fun here. *waves from nearby and vanishes off again*

Larry_OHF As chance would have it, the Modding Mage of Ironworks was nowhere to be seen on this forum, for he had been completely pulled away with no chance of leaving behind one of his avatars to cover his kingdom. As chance would have it, therefore, there was nobody of power and might who could approach this Wyvmettic fellow and learn of his intent upon the Role-playing forum. Hailing from the Mighty Pen came he, knowing already members of this community, yet had he come to battle or to socialize with friends? Had he come to seige the land or to offer his services? As the members that frequent the forum began to log in and wonder at this strange, new sight...the thought was abundantly shared amongst them all...who would be the first to make an attempt at communication with this stranger. Who would dare?

Coming up next in this archive is the third of the parties honoring other boards, entitled "Iron and Wine." This event occured on the wonderful Ironworks forums, and lasted from 3/24/06 to 4/14/06, with additional post-party comments lasting up to this month. Note that my posts in this are under the Wyvmettic pseudonym, as the Wyvern who posts in this party is a female member of the Ironworks site (heehee!). Enjoy. Wyvmettic Residents of the Iron Works halls seem to come to a standstill as an unusual clanging and shuffling sound rings through the cooridors. A loud myowl is heard, followed by a distressful screech and several crashing noises. Legolas and Morgeruat jump from their seats as Chiroc dashes through the RPing forum lounge, his claws extended and his fine siamese hair standing on end. The eyes of the two Iron Works members dart towards the hall, only to widen at the sight of the odd figure approaching. "Oz's Tin Man meets a monster truck debris yard" best fits his description. A large metal can with a car muffler attached to it covers the bulky figure's face at an awkward angle, with six holes acting as sockets for his eyes, nostrils, and horns. The figure's chest is covered by what appears to be a piece of flattened metal leftover from a scrapyard Honda Civic, and the metal bowls taped to the figure's feet clang against the floor with every step. The scaly crimson tail that sways from the figure's back comes to a halt as he pauses in the middle of the lounge. "Greetingssss, Iron Works." The figure's voice echoes from within the confines of his "helmet." Legolas raises a brow as the figure pulls out a garbage can lid and a soup ladel. "I hereby offer you the un-humblest of parties! Come one, come all!" Wyvmettic begins banging the ladel against the lid in a cacophonous uproar, catching the attention Calaethis Dragonbane in a seperate hall and awakening Illumina Drathiran'ar from her slumber. "My official name isss Wyvern Q. AlmostDragon, but I see you already have a resident Wyvern, and I didn't want to scare her from joining in on the fun." Wyvmettic reaches behind himself and scoots a case of iron wine flasks in front of Morgeruat's feet. "Help yourselves, this is in honor of you all. I'm gonna need a spot to install a rotating iron dancefloor... By the way, perhapsss one of you could clue me in to whether or not the Iron Works Wyvern is a hottie...?" ;-)

This response is belated, but I wanted to expand on a few of my thoughts here at your request. In terms of expositional dialogue, there were points where I felt that the words exchanged between characters revealed a great deal of interesting history and detail, but didn't feel plausible in the context of a conversation. For example, in the first scene of the story, Jenna explains why she hates her mother to Elizabeth, who in turn speaks in Jenna's mothers defense. If Elizabeth is a friend and already knows Jenna's childhood, why would Jenna feel the need to explain it to her again here? A similar thing occurs in the third post, when Max asks Jenna numerous questions about her history under the pretense that they "never talk very much about [her] past," which didn't strike me as a very convincing reason. One thing to note is that, typically, when two people know each other, a great deal of their conversation becomes implicit and unspoken... it can be difficult for the reader to pick up on elements of characters when they reference events and names they know that the reader has never heard of, but it can ultimately be more rewarding to the reader when they pick up on what these events were over the course of the text. As I noted, one simple way around relying on dialogue too much is to become more internal with the character of Jenna, and to offer her more thoughts and flashbacks. For example, the long blocks of dialogue where Jenna details her history to Max might work better as a flashback of sorts. This would avoid the inplausible aspect of Jenna narrating a mini-autobiography on the fly to her close boyfriend, and would also allow you to go into more detail on the events of her past without it feeling strained. :-) Anyway, I hope this elaboration helps a bit more. :-) On a side note, I liked the sixth chapter that was posted after my post in this thread. The disturbing vision with Maxwell and the jeweled dagger is intriguing, and I'm interested in seeing if it connects to her relationship with Max in the present in any way. Good stuff, keep up the nice work!

Nice poem, Pheonix. :-) I agree with Sweetcherrie that the revised version is an improvement over the original, as it condenses the interesting elements of the poem and makes for a stronger read. I love the reference to aching for "release and the death of sleep," as well as the line about the "paintings my heart has laid out dry," as I found the wording and placement of both of those lines very good. The steadfast determination of the narrator to hold back her tears also shows a great deal of courage and strong will. I agree with Sweet that the uses of language are generally good in this piece, but I was a bit uncertain about the use of "duress" in the third stanza. Duress is generally meant to imply "the use of force or threats to procure something" (Oxford American Dictionary), "forcible restraint and constriction" or "compulsion by threat" (Merriam-Webster's). Since the narrator's mistakes are "her own" and she's chosen her own path to tread, I didn't feel that the word really fit the context of the piece, though it's quite possible that it concerns an element that's been left out of the rest of the poem (in which case I'd be intrigued to see it drawn out more!). Anyway, this is nicely done. Thanks for sharing. You shouldn't feel worried about posting rough drafts here either, since we'll appreciate it regardless!

Very good poem, word eyes. :-) I really like the metaphor of the coke bottle, and the many intriguing ways that you use it in the narrative. I particularly liked the image of the bottle denting the bricks without shattering, the comparison of the bottle to the narrator's treatment of his loved one, and the final twist in words that ends the poem. The simple rhyme scheme of the piece was also handled well, as the rhyming lines added to the flow of the piece without distracting me from the interesting imagery. The title of the poem is great as well - definitely an eye grabber! In terms of potential improvements: I felt that, while the initial images of the unbreakable bottle were very intriguing, they went on for a bit too long. I noticed that the language of these first stanzas switched a bit between formal ("Amused a bit at the irony") and casual ("By now I was pissed"), so you might consider dropping lines or stanzas in a way that strengthens the consistancy of the language. There were also points where things felt a bit too accurate to me ("10 car alarms," "pulled the trigger 20 times"), and you might consider dropping any of the numbers that don't have a great deal of significance to the piece. Anyway, this is quality stuff. It's nice to see you posting again, thanks for sharing this here.

The first thing that greeted Clef when he opened his eyes was her lips. The jagged greens and browns of the leaves obscured his vision a bit, but there they were, slightly parted, supple, almost glowing under a thin spot of sunlight. Clef shifted his weight a bit, wincing as he found his left leg asleep under his pitchfork. He lifted himself with a grunt, letting the stray leaves fall from his chest and trying to remember what he was doing in the forest with some gal when pops needed oxen. The sight of the tip of her ear surfacing from the leaf pile made it come back to him in a flash, and he shoved his pitchfork to the side as he heard her mumble something sleepily. Clef stood up and rubbed the back of his neck, pausing at the sound of her voice. “You?” She squinted at him, and her hands instinctively moved to the tear in her dress, trying to cover the holes. Or maybe she was just touching them and feeling at them in disbelief. “It was real?” Clef stared down at her with distant eyes, his thoughts lost on the sound of her voice. Despite the nervous tone, there was a light musical ring to it that seemed to quiet any speech that might have been in his throat. It was the kind of voice that could get words dancing through people’s heads in song. Like he’d always known she could. Pops at the dinner table, with that open bottle of rot gut and bronze spittoon, asking her to say grace. She’d known better than to sing the words with that forlorn look on pops’ face, but Clef had been saving up silvers to buy her those lessons. He knew that she’d have made a great songstress, that Miima. “I-I’m sorry. The other night-” The girl tried to lift herself from the leaves, but her pretty face twisted in pain and her hands dropped to her knee. “Hey, whoa now.” Clef kneeled beside her and extended a hand. “Careful with that knee of yours, reckon it’ll take a couple days to heal. I’m Clef.” She squeezed his hand a bit when he took it and helped her to her feet. He watched her rub her wound for a moment and grabbed her arm as she staggered forward. She looked him in the eyes with those deep greens of hers in some kind of silent plea. They’d lost their hypnotic feel in the morning calm, but they were still big and tough to look away from. “Thank you.” She turned her eyes away for a moment, glancing towards the edges of Clef’s pitchfork as he planted it in the ground. “I’m sorry, I- my name, I can’t speak it.” Clef stared at her as if she were only half there, wondering if she’d taken a hit to the head when she’d fallen or something of that sort. “It’s not trust.” She brushed a leaf from her dress, looking him directly in the eyes. “It’s just, in my bloodtree, a woman speaking her true name to a man she has not chosen is considered disgraceful. And to a human, beyond forbidden. You see?” Clef smirked at her and slowly shook his head, wondering if she was making this stuff up or if the longear types really were as odd as Derg had described them. He reckoned Derg was probably right; any type that could stare you into a disfigured face was bound to be full of surprises. “Well, I reckon you better start thinking yourself a false name then.” Clef moved forward and grabbed her hand, starting on through the woods. “We gotta get a move on. Better walk the forests today, they’ll be searchin’.” “Where are we going?” She hobbled behind him with her bad knee, but Clef was still impressed by the speed of her pace. The Elrai oaks loomed over them, casting huge shadows over large sections of forest bramble. “Little ways North, to a small town called Edmeer. They got an outpost there for trading foodstuffs, and there’re a lotta farmers who drive their carts West.” Clef brushed a branch from his face and lifted it for the girl to pass under. “Figure the best chance you got is hitching a ride on one of’em. Easterners ain’t much for pardons.” After some travel, they stopped at a clearing where two fallen tree trunks seemed to form an arch, and sunlight beamed in spots through the dense leaves above. Clef snacked on a piece of bread as he watched the girl hobble and seat herself under one of the trunks, examining what looked like some kind of flower tangled in weeds. A raccoon rustled from the brush and approached her, and Clef smiled and watched it sit right next to her and examine the flower as well. He wondered if she noticed the raccoon there, or if she wasn’t paying attention… either way, he reckoned that raccoon’d never have gotten that close to him unless he hid and set up a food trap. As a spot of sunlight hit her cheek through a breeze in the leaves, Clef could have sworn it was Grizzly Well over again. It was almost as if time had reversed itself to before that day out in the cattle fields, where no herding and no screaming could change anything. Clef snapped from his thoughts as he saw her a few feet away from the soft bush where he was resting. He squinted up at her through a spot of sun “You sure tread fast.” She struck a little smile and shifted some sort of weed from one hand to another. “It’s only because I’m used to the forest. I know where to walk, here.” She sat down beside him, careful to straighten the leg with the bad knee. “I found some Espess Vine. If we come across horses, we can mix it with mud for a painkiller. It might speed up the flight.” “Went flower pickin’ and pulled in a buncha vines?” Clef leaned back and turned his head to the side in a lazy stretch. “You longears are strange.” She stared at him with a look of disapproval that quickly melted to a thankful smile. She tilted her head up and watched a bird fly from the tip of the tree trunk arch, following its course until it vanished through the leaves and into the sky. “In that case, for a name, you can call me Niina.” Clef’s eyes flicked wide open and he sat up straight, turning to her with a look that bordered on disbelief. “What did you say?” “Niina. She’s a figure in elven myth, known for always bewildering humans and getting into trouble. I think it’s appropriate.” She shrugged and tied the weeds to part of her gown, then paused when she saw the expression on his face. “What’s wrong?” “Niina.” Clef leaned back against the bush and stared up at the leaves above. For a moment, Clef could’ve sworn they each rustled in turn, like some kinda well-thought-out pattern. And he thought of the girl, drowning out her voice in his thoughts. And he wondered, staring up at that pattern, if this was fate. “Hunh.” “What’s wrong, Clef?” “Nothin’.” Clef smiled at the way she spoke his name in that musical voice of hers, and lifted himself to his feet. “C’mon, we got more traveling to do before the day is up.”

Wyvern snorts and scratches out yet another date estimate, more certain of his current geld total and sums of debt than his age. The lizard lets his forked tongue coil around his quill for a moment, then finally lets out an exasperated sigh and tosses his results into the Pen pile. You were born on a Half-Price Day at the Volcano Springs. Your star sign is a faded billboard for Almost Dragonic Brand Semi-Sharp Ninja Twinkle Stars™ (no longer in production). The Season was a Bad Season for Business. You are years, months, and days behind in your taxes. You are approximately as old as you think you are. More info on Half-Price Day at the Volcano Springs: - unlimited molten magma bathing - ash cloud facial treatments - herbavore vending machines (as in machines that vend small herbavores for carnivores to munch on) - rocks, rocks, rocks.

Wyvern steps into the political correctness controversy Cowboys and Indians area of the Conservatory wearing a rough gray poncho, kitten skin boots, and a dead platypus "scarf" around his neck. The duel bandanas tied around the lizard's horns look ugly next to the classic "Uncle Sam" hat that leans on top of his head. The almost dragonic westerner barges past young Sweet, stomping over the sticks and snapping them as he assembles a rickety trade outpost table in the center of the room. He rubs his claws together and snickers, then hammers a dusty old sign next to the creaking wood of the outpost. --- El Wyverno invites you to... Tumbleweeds 'R' Us ~Grand opening~ ¡Today Only! Special Blow Out Sale !Today Only¡ Help us celebrate the grand opening of Tumbleweeds 'R' Us by purchasing the tumbleweeds before they blow out of this room! --- Wyvern reads over the sign for a moment, then nods and pulls out a little black book. The lizard tears a page from the book and tacks it to the bottom of the sign. --- Lord, please protect this stand from she who weilds a violent hand. She who spears one through the air in song and dance without a care. Crazed wild girl who attacks never cutting cowpokes slack. Lil' Morgy - KEEP OUT. - Wyvern's Little Black Book, Hipsssalm 1:23. --- Wyvern reads over the note with a smirk, then promptly moves behind his stand and slams an old gramaphone onto the crooked tabletop. The reptilian Elder tosses on a record labeled "Yankee Doodle Dandee (the Motherf@#kin REMIX)," and proceeds to yell over the distorted static of the recording. "Sssstep right up, get yer patented Tumbleweed products here while supplies last!" Wyvern holds up a large tangled tumbleweed, which gets caught on one of his horns. "Sleeping issues? Almost Dragonic Brand Tumbleweed Pillows™ (shampoo not included), 10 geld! Dressing concerns? Almost Dragonic Brand Aristocratic Tumbleweed Wigs™, 8 geld! Intellectual? Almost Dragonic Brand Modern Art Tumbleweed Sculptures™, 15 geld! Want drugs? Almost Dragonic Brand TumbleWEED™ (warning: do not use in bonfire), 13 geld!" "Look what you did to the horsies." Sweet pouts and rubs at her wet eyes, gathering the broken sticks in a pile. "Meanie!" Wyvern pauses for a moment as he notices Sweet tending to the pile, then lifts himself from his seat and approaches her. "Horsiesss, you say?" Wyvern glances at Sweet for a moment, then breaks out into an enormous sneer. He shoves her to the side and snatches as many of the broken sticks as he can before wandering back to his booth. "This just in, we also sell used horses!" Wyvern raises half of a feeble twig. "This one was only ridden once by a little old lady with a lasso." ;-p

I recently read through this story and really enjoyed it, Zadown. :-) I had almost forgotten about the character of Morchello in the Dreamer saga, and it was refreshing to read a story told mainly from his point of view. Your elaborate layout for the mage academy had plenty of striking details, and it was interesting to see the Dreamer being kind of social for a change. My favorite moment in this story is probably when the Dreamer goes to Morchello's room in the middle of the night just to ask him what it's like to be human, and Morchello's inevitable reaction to the question. I also appreciated the philosophical approach that this story took towards humanity and immortality. :-) The only thing that I was hoping to see more of in this story was Fionella, as there doesn't seem to be much interaction between her and Morchello, despite the major role that she plays in his life. Something to include in a future story, perhaps? Also, I thought that "colorless" was an odd adjective to describe someone's voice in the fourth post, but that's just kind of nitpicking on my part. Anyway, once again, good stuff Zadown. :-) I'll continue to play catch-up in typical belated fashion.

"I'm not giving this seat up for anything lesss than four geld, and that's final!" Wyvern signaled a roman numeral four in the air with his claws, then sighed and leaned back in his seat as he found Anna obsessing over Appy's entrance. He'd managed to haggle the price up by one geld by asking a starting price of two hundred, under claims that the chair possessed unique wine stains made by the soon-to-be-celeb-pennite George. The overgrown lizard cursed to himself and sprung to his feet, wiping a few popcorn crumbs from his tunic before wandering across the room towards the group of ladies. He butted into the space between them and raised his claws for a moment, then pulled out a small pad of paper and turned to George. "Concerning the worries over writing about me, I'm always open to folks such as yourself writing heroic fan fiction on my subject after being stricken by my charm and scaly handsomeness. 'Wyvern: the Autocratic Introspective' remainsss the definitive life work at this point." Wyvern reached into his Devil's Advocate folder and handed George what appeared to be a blank sheet of paper. "As you can sssee, Almost Dragonic Brand Crash Test Almost Dragonic Training™ courses are available for a minor investment and a taste in potentially fatal situations." Wyvern nodded to Appy, then lifted his pad to his snout and cleared his throat in Anna's direction. "Decent party thusss far, m'dear. The lack of proper booze is something that needs fixing, though." Wyvern paused as he spotted a note on his pad about competing with Krelbin's Anti-Viral Agent. He scratched his chin, then let out a low hiss. "... You may wanna hail that Ted back here as well if ya can. He might have some party-oriented dance moves or something, y'know? I'll leave it to you." Wyvern bowed to the three ladies, then proceeded to make his way to the new easychair that George had brought in the room. The overgrown lizard scooted the chair over so that it was adjacent to George's previous chair, then lied across both of them at once as if they were a lounging couch. "Four hundred geld for this two-chair 'dauna deluxe' ssspecial set, by the way." ;-)

"My Angel?" "Well, yessss." Wyvern bit his lip as Annael raised a brow and crossed her arms over her chest. He fiddled with a claw and scratched at a "recent healing" itch behind his horns, distracting the pretty angel's attention from the flaming remains of the picnic basket. He really had to look into sneeze guards. "I mean, at leasssst you were for the duration of this date, right? Shame we lost that honey, might've come in handy-" Wyvern cut himself short as he watched Annael's facial expression go blank, then used the opportunity to shove the ashes of the picnic basket to the side with his tail stinger. The overgrown lizard studied Annael's skirt and hair, which had distracted him from eating the picnic basket's contents whole earlier, and raised a claw to his still-sensitive snout before going a slightly deeper shade of red. "Anyways, thanksss for the luncheon. You can tell yer butterflies that I'll, uhhh, try n'make Almost Dragonic Brand Fly Butter™ with common house flies from now on." Wyvern dug his tail stinger into the picnic blanket and twisted it in nervous fidgets. He scratched the back of his head again and stared at the ground for a long moment in silence, then snapped a claw and turned towards the tree. "Y'know though, if you wanna try some experiments with honey, I could go fetch some more right no-" "NO." Annael raised her voice a bit as the buzzing sound of the tree hive grew a bit louder. She promptly grabbed Wyvern by the arm and began directing him back to the Pen Keep, not wanting to witness another almost dragonic stinging mound. "That is, no thanks. Not today." "Gotcha." Wyvern struck a smug grin, then coiled his arm around hers as they walked back. In the distance, the butterflies flew in playful shaped formations, moving from smile to star. To heart. :-) OOC: Thanks for the date, Annael, I really enjoyed reading through it. :-)

I recently saw the films "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" and "V for Vendetta," and also watched through the anime series "Samurai Champloo" with a friend. "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" was shown for free on one of my relatives' high-class HBO television stations, so I decided to give it a shot. The concept behind the film sounded promising, plus Angelina Jolie is always nice to look at, so why not? I thought that the film had some pretty amusing moments sprinkled throughout the first half, but it suffered by dragging itself out for too long. This might have made an entertaining thirty minute short, but I thought it really wore its concept thin over the course of two hours, and I'd lost interest in it well before it ended. A respectable thumbs down. "V for Vendetta," on the other hand, was a very pleasant surprise. I had fairly low expectations for it since I'd read many mixed reviews of it here and elsewhere, and wasn't too sold on the Watchowski Brothers after their mind-numbing "Matrix" sequels. They seem to have redeemed themselves, though, as "V for Vendetta" was excellent and hands down the best Watchowski work since the original "Matrix." A great deal of credit should go to Alan Moore's comic book for such an intriguing take on the sci-fi superhero genre - V is a black rose in a sea of stagnant red, a kind of futuristic representation of Zorro. It's really refreshing to see a hero (or anti-hero) with a sense of sophistication and purpose in a film, and V's political statements and actions are thought-provoking throughout. I also agree with Zadown that the low key uses of sci-fi make the setting of the film feel very real, which only strengthens its approach to politics. Granted, there were a few over-the-top moments such as Natalie Portman's imprisonment, but the film held together very well overall and was consistantly entertaining. Definitely recommended. I also watched through every episode of "Samurai Champloo" in a three-night marathon recently, and thoroughly enjoyed the series. :-) There were a few episodes of filler, such as the zombie and baseball episodes that preceded the final three-parter, but I found the anime 98% entertaining. You can tell that the series is directed by the same person who did "Cowboy Bebop," as it follows a similar episodic arrangement that doesn't rely much on backstory but still gets you attached to the characters over the course of their adventures. A few episodes that stood out to me were the one where Mugen gets duped into taking out an illegal coin manufacturer by a ninja girl working in a brothel, the one with the scrub "samurai" (and his beatboxing sidekick) who wants to beat Jin, the one that deals with Mugen's past with Mukusu, the episode with the blind traveling performer (no spoilers), and of course the thrilling three-episode conclusion. The animation is high quality throughout, and the series packs plenty of style, action, and humor along with an excellent soundtrack courteousy of folks like Fat Jon and Nujabe. Oh, and I liked all of the references to hip hop culture that the show made, of course. ;-) Very worth seeing.

Definitely a heartfelt poem, Chanz. :-) The emotions behind this piece give it a very strong base to build upon. Here's hoping that the situation with your brother improves, it sounds like a difficult thing to endure... I like the beginning of the second stanza of the poem, as well as the words of encouragement that the narrator passes on in the later stanzas. In terms of potential things to improve, the varying syllable lengths of the lines made the rhyme scheme feel a bit inconsistant to me. I appreciated the consistant four-line stanza structure of the poem, but at the same time felt that certain lines could be dropped for refinement, such as the third and fourth lines of the first stanza. Also, I was a bit confused by the manner that the narrator claims that "Everything is your fault" in the third stanza, only to go into extensively blaming the "They." Is the "You" of the poem mainly to blame here, or the "They"? Anyway, it's great to see a new poem from you, especially after a lengthy absence. :-) Welcome back!

Wyvern picks his teeth with the tip of his quill as he looks over the quiz, snorting at the lack of an Almost Dragonic Brand Webcrawler Search Drow-ser™ option for the first question. The overgrown lizard pauses for a moment, then yanks the writing utensil from his mouth and begins scribbling in his own response, along with a side note about potential lawsuits over discrimination towards elves (and spiders). Wyvern proceeds to fill in the rest of the options of the quiz with his own crude scrawl, and ends up "recieving" the following results: You are Almost Dragonic. http://artpad.art.com/gallery/?j40h0x16b89k "Pure Evil just doesn't cut it for you. You might have been tagged as insane for simplicity's sake, but the fact of the matter is that the consistancy of your actions suggests otherwise. You are a natural born leader of all things Evil, and those who scored anywhere near Twisted or above on their Evil Quizes should immediately bow down to you and begin sending you large donations of geld. Make them out to "The High Imperial Lord Wyvern - Recruiter's Office, the Mighty Pen HQ." Cult following services also available courteousy of Almost Dragonic Inc. To those who recieved lower than Twisted on their quizes: it's only a matter of time!" ;-)

Wyvern charges into the Cabaret Room in a cyclone of loose paperwork, talking on a miniature crystal ball attached to his left horn through several layers of cheap scotch tape. The overgrown lizard licks a claw and tears a few more legal documents from the extra-thick pad of paper in front of him, only to pause as he reaches a sheet containing several poorly doodled T-shirt designs. “And so you see, Sssusan, the base of your work would not only come to life on my new line of productsss, it’d ssscream off of the discount polyester and grab the customer by their throats ‘til proof of purchase!” Wyvern scratches at the scotch tape on his horns and tilts his head a bit in the hopes of strengthening the crystal ball signal. “What? N-n-no, the screaming would be a good thing. I mean… hello? Miss Carroll?” Wyvern curses to himself and rips the crystal ball from his horn, shaking it a bit before realizing that the disconnection had been deliberate. He growls to himself and tosses the small globe over his shoulder, then sighs and stoops down to snatch up a package attached to his tail stinger. The lizard straightens out the wrinkled fabric of the package a bit, then tip-toes towards a familiar figure sitting in the shadows. He waits until Yui-chan has finished reading the chapter of her current book before pouncing into her little corner and nudging her with a scaly shoulder. “Happy Birthday, Yui.” Wyvern strikes a toothy grin and presents her with a slightly dirty-looking package. “I gotcha an Almost Dragonic Brand Novel Tee™ as a gift, but it’s not quite what I hoped it’d be. I wanted to get ya one based on this book called The Night Drifter since I figured it’d compliment your style, but the author said that giving me the rights would be about as likely as getting into Comicon without a three-year advance ressservation.” Yui carefully unravels the package, only to raise a brow and smirk at what appears to be a Novel Tee interpretation of “Wyvern: the Autocratic Introspective” (or “2001 More Ways to Make Geld,” if there’s a difference between the two). The tacky faux-gold dollar bill signs that coat the shirt's length are only complimented by the tail stinger-sized hole at its center. “I know it’s not really your ssstyle, but I figure maybe you’ll be able to use it as a sweat rag when handling taxes or something.” Wyvern winks, then smiles and gives Yui a big hug. “Just want ya know that the thought was there, anyhoo.” With that, Wyvern tugs at the black asp still coiled around his leg and settles down in a corner of the Cabaret, watching the well-wishers file in with gleeful eyes as the snake lets out a low hiss. :-) OOC: Happy Birthday, Yui. Hope you have a great one.

"Further proof that you don't need to visit Alcatraz to find handcuffed men... now get outta here, I need to bench these boys behind bars!" ;-)

I like the five chapters that have been posted of this story so far, Lady Eve. :-) Your writing is very fluid and easy to read for the most part, and the premise of the alternate realities that Jenna experiences is already quite intriguing. The cliffhanger mental invasion ending of the fifth chapter definitely has me interested in the continuation, and the mentioning of Max's secret there makes me wonder if his mysterious father figure is somehow behind the psychic invasion. I agree with Sweetcherrie and Appy that adding a few more details to the lives and appearences of the characters might draw the reader closer to them, particularly in the case of Max and his castle-reality alternative Maxwell. There were also points where I felt the text was heavy on expositional dialogue, which occasionally felt a bit stilted given the context of the conversations. A potential means of improving upon this might be to draw more from Jenna's personal impressions and thoughts, as not all of Jenna's history needs to be relayed to the reader through dialogue. Very nice stuff, so far. :-) I'm looking forward to the continuation.

George had only flipped through a fraction of a chapter when the faint sound of wailing caught her ears. The impaled lamb head depicted in the novel's text almost seemed to gain a voice as the sound grew louder and louder, until George decided that the high-pitched screaming was far removed from familiar baaa-ing. She frowned and turned her head in the direction of the Office window, only to jump out of her seat as Wyvern soared in on what appeared to be a gigantic hangglider made out of yellow construction paper. The overgrown lizard cried out as he sailed in rapid circles and cork-screwed through the room, raising up a storm of paperwork as the gust of his tailwinds messed with dauna's hair. Wyvern's chaotic flight plan was cut short as Woody opened and slammed himself shut at an opportune moment, wrecking the front end of the lizard's vehicle and sending him flying through the fluttering paperwork until he landed near George's feet. "Uuugh." George frowned and stared down at the lizard, wondering for a moment if the grip on reality here was truly any better than that of the great outdoors. "Are you alright?" "Never... been... better." Wyvern forced a grin and lifted himself with a grunt, scraping the stray paperwork off his horns with one claw and shaking George's hand with the other. "Sssorry about that, this Office mess just doesn't seem to stay in one place and rot like it used to." "Oh, that's alright. You're actually here a bit earlier than I expected." The applicant stared at Wyvern's wreck for a moment, then bit her lip and thought twice about her statement. 'I mean, at least that's what the rumors led me to believe." "Well, that'sss largely thanks to Almost Dragonic Brand Discount Origami Paper Airliners™, the quickest and cheapessst means of flying this side of summoning one of Gryphon's relatives." Wyvern pulled out a flight plan detailing his actual intentions to fly into the area of Mynx's flying lessons, but quickly hid the sheet and tore it to pieces behind his back. "Of course, sssince I wouldn't want to keep you waiting, I chose to make a direct flight to my personalized 'Office window' landway. Now then, let'sss see that application." Wyvern pounced over a small pile of paperwork and breezed through his desktop, discarding half-written insurance frauds and tax reimbursment claims until he came across George's application. He snatched up the application sheet and gave it a thorough read, then struck a grin and nodded in George's direction. "People you'll definitely find." Wyvern stroked his scaly chin, then began rummaging through his desk for another item. "The lawsss of reality and death might prove to be a lil' more tricky, depending on the context. Talk to the Astral dwellersss or Grim Squeaker fer more info, and remember that if you continually invest in Almost Dragonic Brand Products™, they'll eventually grant you eternal sssalvation." Wyvern flicked his tongue out twice towards and winked, then snatched his Acceptance stamp from the depths of his desk and stamped the application sheet ACCEPTED. "Bonusss points for taking part of the Pen's smallest rave party, by the way. I'm always partial to party animals." ;-) OOC: An ACCEPTED application story, dauna. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! I hope you find us a very friendly and welcoming community of creative writers, and am glad that Black finally convinced you to apply. I'm looking forward to reading more of your stuff and to participating with you in community projects. Once again, welcome!

I saw "My Super Ex-Girlfriend" and "Little Miss Sunshine" in theatres recently. "My Super Ex-Girlfriend" was a predictably bad humerous spin on the super hero genre, dealing with the sorts of fits that lonely super heroines throw after their bad break ups. The humor of the film was rather hit or miss to begin with, but it was the casting that really dragged this one down in my opinion. Aside from the perfect fit of Uma Thurman as psycho super-bitch, the actors really didn't make the characters of the film very likeable. Luke Wilson plays a kind of nice guy and/or player type who's just too much of a whiney snob to sympathize with, and Anna Faris almost single-handedly ruins the entire movie with her awful airheaded acting of the "nice girl" we're supposed to be attached to. Yui and Aegon were present for this one as well (it was Yui's choice of movie, actually, so there - HAH!), and they didn't care for it either if I'm not mistaken. Not very good at all. "Little Miss Sunshine" was a comedy about a family car trip gone completely awry... we're talking vehicle malfunctions, detours, shattered hopes, and even dead bodies. Yet, despite all the bleakness that occurs over the course of the family's many miles of bonding, the film proves to be a mostly funny romp through well-timed awkward moments. The initial exposition of the film dragged a bit for me, but once the road hazards began things got a lot more interesting. Overall, I'd say it's a pretty good movie. The count down to "Snakes on a Plane" remains at the top of my current movie priority list, but there were some very promising coming attractions preceding the aforementioned movies. The coming attractions for "My Super Ex-Girlfriend" had a preview for some film about a writer who is writing the life of an actual person without realizing it, and who's struggling to find some sort of way to kill him off. I can't remember the name of it at the moment, but it features Will Ferrel and it looks very interesting. The previews before "Little Miss Sunshine" showed a film called "The Science of Sleep," which seems to be a cooky love story about a genius inventor type who has difficulty distinguishing his imagination from reality. It features the acting of Gael Garcia Bernal and is directed by the person who did "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," so I'll definitely be checking for it when it arrives in theatres. :-)

"I wonder, Clef." Derg wrapped the salted ham a little too tightly around the loaf of bread. He squeezed it into a leather pouch two times too small for the food, then fumbled for a knot at the top. "You owe me, you know." "Yup." Clef moved his feet from side to side, staring down at the glimmer of the new leather in the dim light of the Tailor. Last time Derg had given him such a fine pair was when they were little, and pops had stripped him of his own shoes for upsetting the milking cow. Derg had given him a pair off his own two feet, and told him they were his until the harvest. Clef reckoned Derg knew that Gurtha had another pair set for him, or had felt responsible for all the jousting they'd done around that cow, but it was mostly Derg's good will that made him such a fine friend. "When the seed comes in." "Yeah, well, it better." Derg's voice sounded so anxious that it might have been an apology to pops right then and there. Clef watched him pick up the loaf and set it on the table, then pick it up again and place it by his feet, only to walk in a circle and pick it up before tossing it onto the table in front of him. All the while, Derg's eyes darted through the dim light of the room, glancing back and forth between the girl and the pitchfork. "You owe me for all this. And for her." Derg waved a hand in her direction as he paced back and forth. She was half-asleep, her head tilted against a quilt of a horse in mid-stride. Those ears of hers made the stallion seem to jump out of the fabric. "A longears, Clef? Hell." "Sorry, Derg." Clef lifted himself from his seat and moved towards her, knowing his time to leave but not wanting to wake her with a start. She'd had enough shocks in Weeslar, poor gal. He gently touched her elbow and shook it once, noticing that the shirt fabric didn't shine in the glow of the Tailor, not even a hint of silver over that dull white. Her lips parted for a moment as he shook her once more. They seemed to whisper something silent, moving on their own. Then, those milky greens of hers flicked open and stared. Clef stared back and held her shoulder until the fear had passed from her face. "We gotta go." "You owe me, Clef." Derg followed Clef as he made his way to the door, distancing himself from the girl's hobble of a walk. His larger eye occasionally glanced towards the red surrounding the tear at her knee. "You gotta come back here and pay up, remember. No disappearing act." "Thanks for everything, Derg." Clef struck a tired smile and clapped the Miracle Tailor on the shoulder. Derg's round face looked dead serious under the open doorway, like it always did when Clef tried to pass over something important like it was nothing. "I'll be back with that seed." The night air was cooler than it had been when they had walked earlier, but the sky was just as dark, if not darker. Clef helped the girl along through the streets, holding her arm so he could hurry her step with that knee of hers. She wasn't resisting his grip any more. Clef turned through small alleyways to make sure he went a different route than he'd tracked before; a longer course through Weeslar to avoid the chance of the law having spotted the stables. By the time they reached the Weeslar North Gate exit and headed towards the outskirts of Elrai Wood nearby, Clef reckoned it was the second longest night he'd ever had to endure. When they finally reached the tall oaks and wide bushes typical of Elrai, the Sun had begun to crack through the night sky with a few dabs of light. Clef staggered through brush of the wood, carrying almost the girl's full weight in her sleepy state, weaving left and right through bark and leaves. He clung to her as he tripped over a tree branch, and the two of them slid down a slope of leaves before the exhaustion set over Clef's eyelids.

Nice poem, Tasslehoff. :-) I really like how you end the poem with the reality of the situation, and the narrator retreating back into his memories as an escape. I also like the way that time seems to slow as the narrator holds his loved one in his memory, as it gives the flashback a certain dreamy magical quality that almost makes it feel like fantasy. In terms of possible improvements, I think that the feelings of love and desire might be made stronger if the reader was given a more detailed sense of the vivid memory, with the look on the loved one's face and the desires she whispers both having the potential for more unique detail. For example, what is "amazing" about her smile? Anyway, nicely done Tasslehof. :-) Thanks for sharing this here.

George settles back into her seat and takes a small sip of wine, only to bite into a hard kernel of popcorn as she notices a scaly red figure crawling into the area of Anna's circle. She spits the kernel out as she watches the lizard rapidly devour the trail of ground meat as he slithers along, and stands from her seat as he begins licking up the damp areas of wine that she had poured around the room earlier. "Halt!" Anna's voice booms out through the room in thunderous tone, causing the scaly figure to pause his filthy eating habits. "Who else dares to break the Circle of the Slayer of the Third Ey-" "Anna?" Wyvern raises his head from the ground and hops to his feet, brushing off a feather from the teddy bear that's now impaled on one of his horns. "Hah! I shoulda known." "M-Mr. Wyvern?" "Quite a nice ssset-up." Wyvern glances around at the lighting of the room and the various items strewn across the floor, then belches a short jet of flame that narrowly misses Silver's hair. "I see you've got the dance CDsss, the phone book to spread the word, the food and wine, the glue to fix tables and chairsss, and the photographic evidence. Given the sssize of this space, I'd say this might go down as the smallest party in Pen history if everything goes off without a hitch." Wyvern hops closer to Anna, moving well beyond the established comfort zone as he walks into her circle of light and nudges her with a scaly elbow. "Hey, bonusss points on getting rubber chicken here early, though looks like he's already passed out cold or something. What's he been drinking, Rooster Cocktails?"

Lady Eve Silverthorne shuffles her feet through a thin layer of paperwork and glances towards the Rolodex clock at the far corner of the room, frowning as she notices that the clock hands have made their way to the "pretty long wait" position. She sighs and crosses her long legs, then perks her head up as she notices a tail stinger hook onto the open ledge of the Office window... followed by a scaly red leg with a black asp attached to it. "Who's there?" Eve speaks in her whispering tone as she takes two steps towards the window. She pauses as the asp rears its head from its coiled position and lets out a long hiss. "Do you need a hand...?" "Oh, don'tcha worry." Wyvern's signature hiss echoes from outside the window as he shoves his other leg into the room. The reptilian Elder tucks his wings in tightly behind himself and grips the ledge with his claws, starting a limbo motion into the Office. "I really should be just fi-" The Office door at the other end of the room suddenly swings open on its own, startling Eve into a jump. The door creaks for a moment before slamming itself shut again, and the open window pane simultaneously slams down onto Wyvern's chest with a crunch. Lady Eve cringes at the lizard's painful position for a moment, then lifts the pane back up and pulls Wyvern the rest of the way into the Office by means of his tail. "Thanks," rasps Wyvern as he writhes on the floor for a moment. The lizard stretches his wings with a sickening snap, then hops back onto his feet and strikes a small bow in Lady Silverthorne's direction. "Sssorry about that, currently going through some issues with the Office door. You know how wood can get sometimes." Wyvern growls and shakes a fist in the direction of the Office, only to cringe and bite down on his lip as the black asp tightens in its position around his leg yet again. The lizard forces a toothy grin and ignores the pain as he limps towards his desk and snatches Eve Silverthorne's application from the top of the paper piles. Wyvern reads the profile over in careful glances, then folds the application sheet and tucks it behind one of his horns. He claps his claws together and stares at Eve with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Very interesssting. Y'know, if you want to try and leech your dad for some E-Z gold reparations, my mega-corp offers Almost Dragonic Brand Mistreated Royalty Bloodline Lawsuing Services™. Just a signature or twenty and a couple of mandatory pre-paymentsss, and you won't be not appreciating the wealth that sort of might have been via familial relations." Wyvern mumbles some words under his breath, then whips out a folder labeled "Devil's Advocate" and passes Eve a sheet of paper from within it. "Asss you can see, the track record speaks for itself." Lady Eve raises a brow at the blank sheet of paper, turning it sideways and upsidedown to make sure that she isn't somehow missing something from it. After thoroughly examining it, she shrugs and hands it back to the reptilian Elder. Wyvern curses over yet another faulty folder incantation, then adds the blank sheet to the sea of paperwork around his Office and stamps Lady Eve Silverthorne's application ACCEPTED. ;-) OOC: An ACCEPTED application piece, Lady Eve Silverthorne. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! I look forward to reading more of your stuff and to participating with you in community projects. I hope you find the Pen a fun and friendly place to roleplay and write in, and I'll be on the lookout for more posts from you. Once again, welcome!