Wyvern

Wyvern tightens his suit of "sheep mail" and staggers back to the crumbling rock of his booth, avoiding the sharp segments of shattered ice scattered on the ground. The lizard turns his head to the fields and forest that span the rest of the Pen, squinting at the number of sheep that soar through the air below. He begins counting them as they pass over the river, and slowly starts to doze off as he reaches variants of twenty.

*bleep bleep bleep*

"Wazza?" Wyvern shakes the sleep from his eyes and turns towards the large bleepy rock. He pauses and scratches his head as the rock image surrounding the machine turns to static for a moment. The rock seems to blur in and out of focus, rippling before regaining its mountainous image. On the smaller crumbling stone, a green light begins blinking on a worn out keyboard.

"Huh... already?" Wyvern scratches his chin as the light flashes on and off, then jerks his head up and lets his jaw drop as he realizes the limited amount of time he has to execute last minute schemes. The reptilian Elder tosses out a sign and begins frantically nailing it to the ground next to the snowman, which now possesses a blinking circle of static for one eye.

----

Get yor pikture tacken next to th'abomable snow image!

Onli a mere 5 geld peece (not erned).

Perfek way to pas yerself off as cold-harted!

----

Wyvern tilts the sign so its semi-upright, then dives to the ground and starts scraping up pebbles in the hopes of passing them as a snow cone. Too late. The overgrown lizard lifts his head as he notices the next pennite interested in settings approaching. He grumbles and hops up from the ground, accidentally knocking over his new sign near to the snowman with the swipe of a tail.

OOC: Five days have passed since Evangeline's setting, meaning that if someone else would like to change the setting of the Carnival in this thread, they can do so now. Until the setting is changed, the Carnival setting will remain "shepherd's paradise." Have fun.

Silus jumps as the Office door swings open in a flash of red and white. Wyvern barges into the room, thorny and feather-tattered, an Almost Dragonic Brand Fourth Aid Kit™ clenched in one claw. Silus squints in disbelief at the reptilian Elder's protective attire, which consists of two sheep tied around the lizard's sides and a tarred tree branch for collecting feathers. Wyvern rushes to the table near Silus' chair and grabs the steaming tea kettle that sits there.

"I'll show them and their 'thirty sheeps at once.'" Wyvern guzzles the tea through the nozzle of the kettle, draining it in greedy gulps. "Just need to get myself a battering ram, with an emphasis on the 'ram.' Now, where's that couch...?"

"Excuse me." Silus taps Wyvern on the shoulder, careful to avoid the sheep head on the rear of his protective gear. "Don't want to be a bother, but I submitted my Pen application a few days back, and-"

"SSSsssshhhhhhh!" Wyvern turns to Silus and raises a claw to his mouth. "Don't don't DON'T make any 'ba' soundsss, please. There's a war going on out there. Now, what were you sayin'?"

"I, uhhh..." Silus scratches his head, then clears his throat. "I submitted my Pen application a few days ago."

"Lemme see."

Wyvern snatches Silus' application story from his desktop and tags it onto his tarred stick. The lizard then balances the stick near the table of food, and begins reading over Silus' story while stacking the available sandwiches on top of each other. Wyvern licks each of the layers of his twenty-story club sandwich once he's finished reading, then rips Silus' app back off of the tar.

"Y'know, this could very well be the story of young Thinas and Nimue in some alternate dimension." Wyvern grins in Silus' direction and attempts to toss the application sheet back onto his desktop, only to find it stuck to his claw. "Heck, if there's a treasury behind those large doors, that could even be a young me! And I always appreciate stories that have positive insinuations about me in them. Nicccely done."

Silus gets a headache as he tries to register the extent of Wyvern's narcissism in his head. He raises a finger to deny any connections that the story may coincidentally have to pennites, but pauses as he watches Wyvern stamp his application ACCEPTED.

"There ya go." Wyvern grunts and pulls at the sheet in his claw, only to frown as it tears a little. He grumbles to himself, then shrugs to Silus. "Well, I can't seem to give it back at this time, but I'll drop by here as soon as it gets unstuck."

Silus' jaw drops as Wyvern snatches the coffee pot and races out of the Recruiter's Office with the application story still stuck to his claw.

"And if you decide to step out, pleaaaasssse miiiinnnnnnd the sheeeeeeeeeeep!"

;-)

OOC: On a more serious note: an ACCEPTED application , Silus. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! I look forward to reading more of your stuff, as well as to participating with you in community writing projects. I hope that you find the Pen an open and friendly environment to share your writing with. Apologies for the wait, and welcome once again.

The stench of raw sea otter suddenly seemed to turn the Conservatory-field's Forest Arena into a day out at the expired pier. Several of the generic ninja sissies (that's right, you heard me, sissies) raised their masks further over their noses, while the two distinguished pirates identified the smell as that of the carniverous otters of Dead Man's Reef. A place that had more booty (and gold) than the pathetic spandex-sporting ninja could ever imagine. Arrr. At Dead Man's Reef, you risked being devoured by Sparko, the two-tentacled tyrant octopus, any day of the week. Arrr.

The Arena seemed to stand still as Morty "Codfish" McCernan stepped up to the stage. The stainless steel of his left foot clanged across the floor in manly steps, and his muscles rippled back and forth through the fabric of his filthy ale-stained pirate garb. His mess of hair was split in three ways, and the knife-markings of a skull and crossbones were carved over his forehead. His left eye twitched; the kind of twitch that a man gets once he's seen things that turn him to a scallywag. An instinct that ninjas playing dress up would never understand. He reached a hand down to his jagged red cutlas and pulled it out in a stroke, baring his 14-carrot gold teeth with a raucous laugh.

"Well Well Welllllllllll." Morty swooped his cutlas through the air and pointed it at what looked to him like a crowd of prepubescent boys with a poor dress code. "If I'da known there were some o' you ninja pansies showin', I woulda brought along two barrels o' tea. We coulda had ourselves a lil party, HARharharharHAR!"

Once the group of pirates stopped laughing, Morty sneered and slid his blade down his own cheek, streaking his blood over its length.

"That's the only blood o' mine ya tea-tricklin bags o' bones will see for this whole fight." Morty spat to the ground, his loogey kicking up a bit of dirt. He then tossed his cutlas aside, and cracked his knuckles so loud it could have been mistaken for thunder on the horizon. "I ain't wastin' no steel on you skinny twigs. Barely out yer mother's, I'll crush you with me bare hands. Teach you land-lubbers a thing're two about manhood, arrr."

Morty clapped his hands on the backs of his two pirate pals.

"Why don't you two introduce yerselves to these lil' pajama bandits." Morty stomped his steel foot down with a clang. "Maybe they'll think better o' it all and go fetch their wenches for us before running off into the sea, HARharharharHAR!"

Madhatter walks through the hilly green fields of the Pen in wonder, staring up at the perfectly blue sky and waving forest treetops. Just a moment ago, the Conservatory had been carpets, bookshelves, and study archive tables... now it bore more of a ressemblence to a natural sheperd vacation resort, with the type of bobbing flower heads that might be found in a Teletubbies pollen presentation.

Madhatter adjusts his tall Dr. Seuss hat and pulls the cufflinks of his red suit closer as he approaches a bed of bobbing flowers. He smiles and breaths in a large whiff of their fragrence, only to pause as the odd scent of old dustjackets wafts from the dandelions. The Wee Poet steps forward to examine the blooming flowers more closely, but turns his head to the sky as a shadow falls over the flower patch. Madhatter squints up at what appears to be a fluffy white stork soaring in the sky, and frowns as it begins heading down in his direction. As the fluffy bird grows closer, he realizes that the hooves and white wool of the animal don't make a bird at all, and his jaw drops as he stares into the face of a sheep. He turns to run, but doesn't have time to escape as the sheep lands on top of him... with a gentle nudge akin to that of a pillow.

"Bwahahahahahaaaa!" Wyvern points at Madhatter from across the field with a mischievous grin. The lizard loads another sheep-pillow into his Almost Dragonic Brand Sheepish Catapult™ (bastard tested, Madoka disapproved), and aims it towards the Conservatory-field's entrance just as Big Pointy One steps in. Wyvern lets'er rip, then grabs a nearby sheep and makes a mad dash for the forest-bookshelf area.

"Muahaha! Catch me if ya can, Evangeline! Sheeeeeep fiiiiiigggggght!"

;-)

OOC: All out war with pillows under the illusion of sheep. Feel free to jump in and go wild! 10 earned geld for participating.

Interesting poem, ravingderelict. :-) My favorite stanza was definitely the one in which the demons burn the children in the narrator's mind, as I found the concept of being accused of lying to oneself intriguing. The life-like presence of the demon manifestations was also nicely done, as the vivid way that the demons appear before the narrator made his troubles seem urgent.

The rhyme scheme of this poem seems to work for the most part, but the syllable count and the rhythm of the lines felt a little off to me. It's difficult to feel the full effect of the rhymes when the lines are all of various lengths and rhythms, and you might consider making this aspect of the poem more consistent if you choose to revise it. There were also instances where I felt that large words and phrases were used where a much shorter arrangement might have been clearer and more concise. If these phrases were shortened, there's a good chance that the rhythm of the piece would also be strengthened. For example, in the third stanza, "I often question myself, am i insane?" might read better as "I often ask myself, am I insane?" as "ask" is a clearer term that makes the phrase read better when paralleled with "my hate, anger and pain." With the phrase "I often question myself, am i insane?," the reader could interpret it as his insanity question coming from the fact that he's questioning himself, or as a prelude statement to his asking questions.

Anyhoo, the theme and imagery of the poem are both interesting. :-) Thanks for sharing this.

Evangline froze as she found a bulky snowman staring back at her, with two brown button eyes and a long cinnamon stick for a nose. Her eyes widened as she reached a hand over the crumbling rock in front of her, only to blink as Wyvern stepped out from the snowman illusion. The lizard raised a claw to his chin.

"Gee, I dunno, never thought o' that." Wyvern drummed his fingers on the crumbling rock and stared up at the clear blue sky. His straw hat now took the appearence of a beaver-skin cap. "I guess we'll jussst have to wait and see if it does anything."

Evangeline's eyes moved from the peppermint candy smile of the snowman to the mountainside presented before her. The craggy structure was an irregular collection of odd-looking rocks, including a rock that seemed to be perpetually spinning in circles... along with a rock that flashed annoying lights, and a rock that made computer bleeping sounds. And a large hunk of rock that didn't seem to be doing anything at all.

"Oh," managed Evangeline. She glanced over her shoulder and stared out over the hilly green fields. There were no baaing sounds, but she swore she could see several spots of wool grazing. "That's O.K, I think it might work."

Wyvern's jaw dropped as he turned and noticed the snowman standing at his side. He instinctively took a step back, his knowledge of illusions not conquering his fear of H2O. As he did so, his foot crushed a small piece of machinery camoflauged as a thin sheet of ice. Wyvern stared down at the broken contraption, then shifted his foot across it with a frown.

"Well, I guessss you're no longer the only person breaking the ice, eh Evangeline?"

;-)

OOC: Carnival Setting set to "Evangeline's Hilly Herding Setting." This setting will last until 5/25/06, at which point someone can switch it in this thread if they choose.

Wyvern squints through his worker goggles as he hammers the last of the large blinking machines into place. A jet of steam rises from a machine to the lizard's left, and he coughs over the rhythmic bleeping sounds that ring from a wide metal contraption above him. Wyvern steps over a small metal box on the ground and passes by a whirling machine to the right, distancing himself from the series of devices to get a better view of the scene. The reptilian Elder smirks at the booth's ressemblence to a life-sized WWF version of Rock'em Sock'em Robots, and claps his claws together as he takes a seat at the rickety wooden table set in front of the various contraptions. The steam machine, bleeping sound machine, whirling machine, and worthless hunk of metal machine were all nice decorations to the set, but there was only one device that truly mattered...

"Come one, come all!" Wyvern removes his goggles and pulls out a straw hat and corncob cane. "Come experience the wonders of the Almost Dragonic Brand Ge-olographic Carnival Setting Circuit™. Set the Carnival's environment using yer own two handsss!"

Wyvern tacks a sign to the front of his table as pennites begin approaching:

----

$ettings $ettings $ettings!

Give'er a whirl! Choose the Carnival's setting for the course of five days!

(satisfaction not 100% guaranteed)

Earn 5 geld!"

----

"Sssstep right up." Wyvern puts on his best carnie sneer and raises his cane to the spinning device at his side. "This booth is not to be confused with previous Almost Dragonic Brand Hollow-grams™, which failed to be marketed as three-dimensional. The Ge-olographic Circuit uses DoctorEvil's state o' the art technology to spin wide-scale illusions for spans of five-days. Any place or time, real or imaginary, is right here at your finger tips."

"Would you please turn off that bleeping noise?!" Dros covers his hands over his ears as he approaches Wyvern's booth. "I'm trying to concentrate!"

"What'sss that you say? How does she work?" Wyvern holds up a claw as if he has a hearing deficiency, then places what appears to be a worn out keyboard on the rickety table. "You just imagine the type of setting you'd like, type the keys in randomly, and it'll create illusions throughout the Carnival for the next five days! Of course, since they're just Ge-olographic, the settings'll only exist in sight and won't be real."

"Would somebody turn those blinking lights off?" Pheonix approaches Wyvern's booth wearing a pair of sunglasses. "Uh oh, wait, is this an Almost Dragonic Brand booth...?"

"Yesss ma'am, Almost Dragonic to the core." Wyvern strikes a wide grin and waves around his cane, missing the heads a few pennites by a few inches. "But I'm happy to inform ya that this product is 1000000% glitch free... meaning that glitches only occur with it ever so often."

;-)

OOC: A more straightforward explanation of this thread: anyone can participate by posting a roleplayed response in this thread and changing the entire Carnival's RP setting to a setting of their choice. Once a person has established a setting through the machine, that setting will remain throughout the Carnival for the course of five days. After this period has passed, another person can change the Carnival setting to something of their choice. Note that all of the settings are in illusion only- e.g you won't be able to swim in an ocean, you won't be able to smell a patch of flowers, etc. Also, due to the glitchy Almost Dragonic nature of this machine, the illusions will not always stretch to every Carnival activity (giving people the option to make booths outside of the setting, if they choose), and other odd errors in illusions may also occur. 5 earned geld for participating. Also, even if you're not out to change the setting or are in a period where you can't change it yet, feel free to roleplay your characters in this thread. ^_-

"Well, I thought it was an excccellent yarn, Zepheri." Wyvern steps from behind Savage Dragon and winks to the Nighten Princess. "A little light on the almost dragonic propaganda, perhaps, but there'sss always next time."

Wyvern grins and nods to Savage Dragon, then slithers his way past Sweetcherrie as she continues to explain things to Alaeha. The overgrown lizard comes to a halt as he arrives next to Ayshela, who stares down at the designs of the Assembly Room rug in silence. Wyvern nudges her twice with an elbow, then clears his throat of a few ashes and strikes a toothy grin.

"Well, while Sweetcherrie is busy explaining the origins of the picture to Alaeha, I thought I'd give you a little background for it." Wyvern grabs Ayshela by the shoulders and turns her in the direction of the picture, squaring his claws in front of her face as an additional frame. "Lemme tell you a ssstory about this picture. It is not actually a photo, but a watercolor painting, crafted centuries ago in the Kingdom of Quilvadoria. When King Quilvador heard of the "bloody guardians" incident that occured in a village of the rival kingdom of Dehrufia, he thought it was simply too cool to not be put into art. He summoned the finest artists in all of Quilvadoria and requested a seven-pannel comic strip detailing the massacre of the village, along with some inceasingly bloody pics of guardian statues. Unfortunately, the artistic pannel found themselves a little short on canvases... after all, something had to be used for the sails of those last vessels, and resources were running low."

Ayshela rolls her eyes to the ceiling as Wyvern continues.

"So, the artists ended up presenting this single-pannel silent comic to King Quilvador. His majesty was naturally a little upset at the lack of gore, but his nerves calmed to a non-beheading state when the artists showed him the punchline of the painting. If you stare at the canvas with a highpower telescope, you'll sssee that the ship in the background is a Quilvadorian cruiseliner. King Quilvador stands on top of this cruise vessel, pointing at the bloody guardian statue and laughing his head off. The details are all immaculately done, and the purple frame of the picture was supposedly added as a symbol of Quilvadorian pride... though, truth be told, it seems more likely that it was done to clash with the purple wallpaper in King Quilvador's palace."

Wyvern pauses for a moment, then glances in both directions and whispers in Ayshela's ear.

"Sssome say that the artists got their revenge against King Quilvador's impossible demands through the painting. They say that, if you magnify the whiskers of the statue a thousand times, you can make out a small etching that reads 'I use the same hair stylist as King Quilvador.'"

Wyvern snickers, then removes his claws from in front of Ayshela's face and grins.

"No need to tip me for relaying the information, by the way." Wyvern leans towards Ayshela and twiddles his claws. "No no, really, I'd never ask for a tip for that sort of thing. A tip would really be too kind of you, so no need to worry about tipping me with a tip, if ya get my drift?"

;-)

The Office door creaks open and Wyvern prances in wearing what appears to be a makeshift fisherman's outfit. He sets down a box of bait hanging from his tail stinger and tosses off his hole-dotted hat, then turns to Dros and NightFae with a grin. Dros stands up to greet the Elder of Initiates, only to find that his applicant easychair is stuck to his rear, courteousy of NightFae's extra-sticky donated chewing gum.

"SSsssorry for the wait, I was out procrastinat-" Wyvern pauses in mid-sentence as he notices the chair attached to Dros' back. His eyes turn to NightFae and narrow at her half-suppressed grin. "Ooooohh no you don't missy. Trying to steal one of my applicant easychairs to pay off the tax debt that you owe for that gum, eh? And pinning it on one of our honored guests! Well, I'll deal with you later."

NightFae's jaw drops and she raises a finger to respond, only to be cut short as Wyvern steps towards Dros and snatches his application sheet.

"Anyway, as I was sssaying, sorry for the wait. I was out doing some very important fly fishing."

"Really?" Dros tucks his hands into his pockets. "I didn't even realize there were any lakes near the Pen."

"Oh. Oh God no, not at a lake!" Wyvern hisses in distaste. "I just did it via the Pen rooftops. Caught a fruit fly and a horse fly, but I didn't manage to catch a house fly to store'em in."

Dros stares at Wyvern in confusion, then glances towards the reptilian Elder's bait basket. He bites his lip as he notices the arrangement of imp corpses within the tattered flaps, and his stomach churns at the sight of their decaying limbs. His thoughts of rotted wings are interrupted by the tap of Wyvern's claw on his shoulder.

"Well, this is good stuff." Wyvern grins and waves Dros' application sheet in front of him. "You know, speaking of fly phone stuff, I think I might have just the thing for you. Almost Dragonic Brand Skyfee Crystal Ball Services™ offer unlimited access as long as you're hooked up to a nearby mana node. The sky's the limit with this new service (with the exception of the fees, which are not limited to "sky high")!"

Wyvern pauses as he notices Dros' look of confusion, then sighs and stamps the new member's application ACCEPTED.

"Well, can I interest you in a fruit fly?" Wyvern raises one of the dead imps towards Dros' face. The fly caught on the hook within the imp's mouth buzzes. "They make great substitutes for raisins in desserts, y'know."

;-p

OOC: An ACCEPTED application poem, Dros. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! My apologies for the wait... I look forward to reading more of your stuff, as well as to participating with you in community events. I hope you find the Pen a friendly and open community to share your writing with. Once again, welcome!

Nice poem, Dros. :-) The nostalgic approach to "Peter Pan" is interesting, and I like how you connect it to the theme of forgotten childhood near the end. I also liked the sense of the unattainable that the last two lines of the poem seem to communicate, and thought that the word "Neverland" was well-placed there. The one instance of language that felt out of place to me was "hath withered" in the fourth line, which felt like a different voice and tone than the rest of the poem.

It would be interesting to hear a musical adaptation of this, as the freeform structure of the lines doesn't strike me as particularly musical or rhythmic. Out of curiousity, are you considering rewriting this to fit a musical setting, or are you thinking of putting these exact words to music? I'd be interested to hear the results, either way.

Nice stuff, once again. Thanks for sharing it here. :-)

Two new junkfood reviews:

M&Ms White Chocolate Pirate Pearls - A new-ish variety of M&Ms that seems to be loosely based on a "Pirates of the Caribbean" theme. Ignoring the pointless skull and crossbone drawings, the main distinction here is that white chocolate is used instead of milk chocolate for the filling. Unfortunately, as an avid white chocolate enthusiast, I have to give this new spin-off a thumbs down. The taste of the white chocolate doesn't seem to blend with the candy coating at all, and Hershey's hasn't exactly been known for its fine white chocolate products. Don't bother with this one.

Reeses Peanut Butter Cups with Caramel - Alternative versions of Reeses Peanut Butter Cups have been a mixed bunch, ranging from successes like Nutrageous and Fast Break to embarassments like "Extra Smooth" and "Big Cup." This new version combines Reeses Peanut Butter with a layer of creamy caramel, and the simple concept turns out excellent. The texture of the candy is a highlight here, as the peanut butter and creamy caramel definitely compliment each other in smoothness. The thought of peanut butter and caramel together might not sound appealing on paper, but the two flavors actually work very well together. Recommended.

Wyvern's eyes glance over the pale white cloth coating the walls of the room, unaffected by Frederick's harsh words.

"Ssso you didn't like it, huh?"

"Didn't like it?" Frederick "Oscar or Bust" Ballooney stares at Wyvern with a look of disbelief, his bloodshot eyes and unshaven face screaming "sleep deprivation." The hotshot agent shakes his head and slams a hand down on the script in front of him. "I don't know how to put it any more bluntly, Wyvern. I mean, for godsake, it's titled Candide Camera! This entire project would be one big cinematic pratfall."

"Hmph." Wyvern shuffles his claws in his pockets, and stares at the white cloth coating the ceiling. "And the addition of Paingloss?"

"Paingloss?" Frederick grabs the manuscript and flails it in front of himself. "Paingloss just retrogrades the piece further! I mean, geeze Wyv, th-this guy's a philosopher who thinks the best of all possible worlds can be found in Almost Dragonic Brand Acidic Photo Gloss™! I don't know which I feel more sorry for: the work of Voltaire, or cameras worldwide."

Wyvern lets out a low hiss, his snout now clearly out of joint. Frederick lifts himself from his seat and stares.

"Listen, Wyvern, can I opine my thoughts on this script as a whole and posit a quick word of advice?" Frederick takes a long snort, and hocks a huge loogey onto Wyvern's script. "IT'S UTTER CRAP! Go back to doing stick figure doodle commercials if you wanna advertise your filthy products!"

Wyvern slams a foot down on the white cloth coating the floor.

"How DARE you animadvert my work of art!" Wyvern snarls and clenches a claw. "That animated artwork isss to be advertised by me alone. The doodles ssspeak to me in ways you wouldn't understand!"

"Get outta my sight." Frederick tugs at the white cloth coating his outfit. "Get out! Go, before I call my Dutch lawyers and tell'em to sue you for the love of Voltaire. They're more interested in this case than you think!"

"Ssssssssure they are." Wyvern tosses his arms in the air and lets out a cold laugh. "Lisssten, you've been locked in this cell ever since you lost it over that script for "Gyrfalcon the Movie: Director's Cut," and I'd be happy to help ya get out... but at this rate, it looks like yer gonna be moving in with Ralph the Devolved Humo-Sapien nextdoor."

Wyvern pauses for effect, and the harum-scarum sounds of Ralph's monkey howls ring from the asylum cell adjacent to Frederick's.

"I hear he ssstill has a glow of Deevolver Radiation about him." Wyvern sneers and stares at a claw with prococurante smugness. "But you still have the chance to get out if you offer Candide Camera to the-"

"Burn in Hell, you wannabe exhorter!" Frederick throws himself against the cell wall to emphasize his point. "You don't even deserve to be a part of this language!"

"Oh yeah?!" Wyvern steps out of the cell and slams the door behind him. "Well, maybe I'll just invent my own sort of language, so I can have my own terms to work with. Hah! Yesssss, yesss. Just you wait and see."

---

Sweetcherrie begins shuffling the papers containing the next round of definitions when the door to the Cabaret Room slams open. Wyvern barges into the room, his Devil's Advocate folder held high in one claw. The lizard brushes past the fuzzy monster that Sweet had rammed before, shoves Savage Dragon to the side, and jumps onto the rock that Zepheri had been hiding under earlier. He reaches into his folder and pulls out a sheet of paper with a triumphant laugh.

"Please forgive my insouciant entrance, but with Ozymandias' recent senescence, I would like to propose a new term under the theme of 'Devil Does Care.'"

A sound of crickets rings through the Cabaret Room as gathered pennites stare at Wyvern with a collective blank expression.

"Errr... Wyvern?" Gwaihir scratches the back of his head, blushing at the broken silence. "You, uhhh, you wouldn't happen to be using large words in the hopes of coming across as intelligent to us, would you...?"

"Why yes, I would." Wyvern lets out an irritating haughty laugh. "As a matter of fact, I asseverate your claim! But only in instances of scene-a-sense, or some-such."

More crickets.

"Enough of this. I have come to wash away the bathos of vocabulary vitamins, for one cannot thrive on the listless flavor of nutritional medecine alone." Wyvern directs his attention to his sheet. "I bring you a fresh new term, for the 'Devil Does Care' indeed!"

Wyvern's word: Melbancollie

(noun, adjective)

[MEL-ban-coly]

noun

 

1. A state of mental depression, revolving around the incessant nagging of secretaries.

 

adjective

 

2. Undesirable; revolting. "When Dirk lost his winter-wear in an enormous blizzard, he developed a Melbancollie frostbite. Thank goodness he had an Almost Dragonic Brand Buzzsaw Toboggan™ on hand. He dropped the Melbancollie limbs, and also used the sleigh to cannibalize the corpses of his former sledding buddies."

 

Origin: Approximately 5 minutes ago; from the proper name "Melba," tagged with the suggestive English verb "to ban," as well as the dog breed, "collie."

 

Note: "Melbancollie" should not be confused with the word "Melbamine," which refers to a blubber extract commonly found in manatees.

Wyvern hobbles into the Cabaret Room with a black eye and a bump on his forehead, passing by Stoomp and giving the dwarf a second impression of the "wonders" that the world of the Pen may have to offer. A sheet of PM-duct metal screeches across the ground behind the lizard, attached to his tail stinger (a souvenir from his last birthday encounter). He wipes a drop of sweat from his brow as he steps beside the fallen Loremaster.

"Thessse B-day celebrations certainly don't get any less complicated, do they?" Wyvern stares up at the spot where the glow had once been, then turns his eyes down to Ozymandias and grins. "Happy Birthday, ya old-timing son of a wage-tight pharoah."

Wyvern twists his face as he notices the sticky candy clenched in Ozy's hands. He digs a claw into one of his pockets, rummaging through the clutter of scribbled schemes and abandoned product designs within.

"Well, I was gonna lay off the 'Pen Reparations Bill Rioting' for a week, but I gotta much better gift for you now." Wyvern grins as he pulls out two crumpled IOUs, and hands them over. "Almost Dragonic Brand Conveniently Timed Candy Wrappers™, free of charge!"

Ozymandias frowns as Wyvern drops the wrappers into his hands. The overgrown lizard strikes a toothy grin as he steps around the span of the Loremaster's white beard, and raises his snout to the air.

"I guess now we just wait for the Celes Crusador Cafe triple-chocolate candyfied cake, eh?"

Stoomp freezes at the Cabaret Room door, the luxurious title of the cake echoing into his ears.

"Was it Katz or Mynx who mentioned that thing?" Wyvern licks his lips, then frowns as he finds the metal sheet on his tail stinger entangled in Ozy's beard hair. He pulls and grunts, then sighs at the intricacy of the knots. "Well go figure... one of those former IOUs was for a barber."

OOC: Happy Birthday, Ozy. ;-)

I like the general tone of the narrator in this piece, as the way that the Devil/demon narrates the poem starts ambivalent and gradually shows the reader that the narrator's an evil figure. The message of giving into malice and facing damnation was also nice, and I liked how the narrator evoked positive elements from negative emotions to render them appealing ("live in your misery" stood out to me, in particular).

In terms of general things that you might consider improving: the poem seems to mainly consist of the narrators demands and hypothetical statements, but there were also a few points where the narrator dictated how his subjects felt at a given moment (i.e "Your despair engulfs you" in the first stanza). These moments seemed a little out of place to me in the context of the rest of the piece, and you might consider dropping them or revising them somehow. Similarly, the second narrative voice that appears in the last stanza felt a bit abrupt, and you might consider seperating it somehow to show the reader the seperate line of thought or simply dropping it and sticking to the Devil/demon's point of view. Also, on a more minor note, I would recommend using exclamation points very sparingly, as too many of them in sequence can drown out the effect they're meant to give.

Anyway, just a few thoughts on this piece. :-) Thanks for sharing it.

Wyvern steps into the room wearing a horrific combination of plaid sweatshirt, neon yellow gym shorts, and green horn mittens. The overgrown lizard adjusts a pair of large star-shaped sunglasses on his snout and walks towards the center of the Conservatory, ignoring the squints on the faces of spectators as he drags his purple-dyed stinger behind him. He pauses at the sight of the large pancreas oozing on the floor, and stoops to pick up the organ with a claw. The still-twitching pancreas squirts a bit of leftover digestive fluid as Wyvern turns it in his claws, and the lizard flinches as a bit of it lands on his snout. He goes cross-eyed and licks the thick droplets off of his scales with his tongue, then sucks the rest of the fluid out of one of the organ's stems before sticking it into his left pocket for future consumption. A damp spot immediately begins forming on the lizard's gym shorts.

"Ladiesss, gentlemen, and things that fall somewhere inbetween." Wyvern reaches into one of the large sleeves of his sweater and pulls out a small white tin. "I would like to interrupt this gore-fest with a brief advertisement that may spark your interest in light of recent sights. Are you tired of relatives and co-workers grossing you out? Want an easy and effective way to make them more attractive?"

Wyvern beams proudly and sticks the white tin out for all too see. The eyes of the spectators focus on the digestive fluid trickling down Wyvern's left leg, however, and they cover their noses as a rancid portapotty smell begins wafting from a puddle forming at Wyvern's feet.

"Introducing, Almost Dragonic Brand Handsome Sauce™!" Wyvern grins and points at the lid of the white tin. "The liquid sssolvent that miraculously changes looks in the blink of an eye. To prove the sauce's worth, I shall now test it on this poor creature... Guh Ga."

"That's Ugh Bah."

"Whatever." Wyvern grins and opens the tin with an excited twist. The clear liquid inside seems to bubble and let off steam. "And now, witnesss the miracle of the Sauce!"

Wyvern tosses the liquid at Ugh Bah, and all eyes turn to the deformed monstrosity as it lets out a hideous shriek. The creature's already tattered flesh seems to bubble as the Handsome Sauce dribbles down its sides, its hanging face almost coming to life under the influence of the chemicals. Onlooking eyes widen as enormous blisters begin forming over the monster's flesh and start cracking open in miniature volcanoes of pus. Ugh Bah starts trembling in seizures as the Sauce continues to work its way through his system, and a large dent begins forming on what would have been the creature's right cheek. The monster lets out distorted scream, choked under a vomit of blood, as an edge of his spinal colomn tears through his cheek in a jagged growth. A family of maggots who had been living within the confines of Ugh Bah's mouth decide to take this moment to swarm and escape under the tide of blood. Ugh Bah's eyes perform a 180 in his sockets, revealing the dangling red veins that normally connect them. The red tubes begin to grow until they've become a gnarled tree of veins, spanning the monster's face.

"Ahaha." Wyvern bites his lip and a raises a claw to his snout as Ugh Bah collapses over. "A-as you can see, 100% improvement."

Wyvern listens to the silence of the potential consumers for a moment. He then watches as Spot prances over and begins gnawing on the piece of spinal chord jutting from Ugh Bah's face, tearing it further and further out of the corpse in a mess of torn flesh. Several maggots crawl up the length of the bone and find themselves a new home in Spot's nose.

"Hoo boy." Wyvern takes a step back. "I think I'll passss on watching Spot's digestive system (or what he has left of it) working through that Sauce. I mean, it's probably not as nasssty as McDonald's Mystery Sauce, but I'm guessing it won't settle too well..."

Wyvern races into the Recruiter's Office with a folder of paperwork crumpled in one trembling claw. The lizard holds the folder up high and waves it in angry swats, his teeth bared in a scowl.

"Alright, I'm here, now what's thisss business about me getting a red envelo-"

Wyvern freezes as he notices his immediate surroundings. His scowl fades to a dark frown as a fluff of soft fur presses itself against his leg. The gentle meowing sound that engulfs the Office slowly makes its way to the lizard's ears, and he steps back at the sight of the coiled tails and twitching noses. Wyvern hisses as one of the kittens hops forward, then races back out of the Office and dashes down the halll. Red Envelope and Mynx sit in the meow-infested "silence" of the room for a long moment.

"Well," Red Envelope removes a kitten from his head and sets it on top of another kitten. "That didn't go very well, did it?"

"Don't worry, I'm sure that Wyv just stepped out for some air." Mynx twiddles her paws and strikes a nervous smile in Red Envelope's direction. "... I hope."

The anxiety fades when Wyvern reenters the Office, only to reappear as Red Envelope and Mynx notice the gasmask and gray radiation suit that the lizard now wears. The reptilian Elder raises a large horn device with a tube attached to it and cackles.

"I will now rid thisss Office of cute and innocent kittens with this patented Almost Dragonic Brand Woof Horn.™" Wyvern's voice comes out in a monotone buzz through his mask. "The cord connected to this horn leads out of the Pen and into a large kennel of muttsss. Their noises will ring loud and clear once the trigger is presssed. Eat this, kitten scum!"

Wyvern presses on the trigger of his horn, and waits for the sound.

*MOOOOOOOOOOOO!*

Wyvern pauses, then begins stammering as kittens start clammering around him for milk. He cries out, then thinks fast and grabs a leftover sign from his silent noir movie portrayal. Wyvern quickly scrawls "Katnip This Waye" onto the sign, then plants it with an arrow facing the Office door. He breathes a static sigh of relief as the kittens begin departing in the direction of the sign, then removes his gasmask and extends a claw to Red Envelope.

"What a relief. When they said 'Red Envelope,' I thought it was gonna be another IRS death threat." Wyvern grins and shakes Envelope's hand, then snatches his application story and reads it over. "Hah! Clever indeed, discovering a shop that sells chocolate so cheap."

Red Envelope raises a brow as Wyvern speedily stamps his application ACCEPTED.

"Now if you'll excussse me, I've gotta run." Wyvern darts back to the Office door and bows. "I have to see if I can catch Jeremy before he gets home. So many infants to steal candy from, so little time."

;-)

OOC: A clever story and an ACCEPTED application, Red Envelope. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! :-) I look forward to reading more of your stuff, as well as participating with you in community projects. I hope you find the Pen a friendly and welcoming community to share your writing with. Once again, welcome!

I really like this piece, ravingderelict. :-) The dream-like details and tone of the prose struck me as original, particularly with the description of the tree. There were plenty of surreal images to visualize, and you used some interesting phrasing to bring them to life. I also found the shift from the girl's third person perspective to the tree stalker/demon's first person perspective interesting and well-executed. Out of curiousity, are you planning to write a continuation to this, or will you be leaving the rest of the story up to the reader's imagination? (either way works!)

Anyway, a nicely done surreal piece. :-) Welcome to the Pen.

P.S: a side-comment- would it bother you to edit the curse in the last line of your signature with a few asterixes? :-) Folks generally try to keep the public boards free of too much cursing.

Interesting poem, Zepheri. :-) I liked the comparison of the problem to a spreading virus, as it kept me guessing as to whether the trouble was actually physical or just emotional. The repetition in the structure of the poem was also a nice touch, though it started very consistent and gradually seemed to fade as the poem went on. I also liked how the narrator seemed to be coming to grips with her own troubles over the course of the poem.

A couple of general comments before I offer some specific things to edit: I was a little confused about whether the narrator was fighting for something inside of herself or against something inside of herself in the poem. After rereading it, I see that it may be a combination of the two, with the loss or suppression of the good thing leading to the festering invasion of the bad thing. I think that my confusion on this point may have come from the structure of the poem, as it jumps from the good element to the bad element to the good element again several times without any line breaks or indications that different "things" are being talked about. There are a few ways that you might be able to clarify this. One way would be to trade in "Things" and "Something" for two more specific sets of emotions, as then the reader would be able to distinguish between them better. Another option might be to rearrange the lines and structure so that the good and bad things are talked about in seperate sections of the poem.

Another general comment I have concerns the consistancy of the troubles that the narrator experiences in this poem. At the beginning of the poem, the narrator seems to be mourning the loss of something inside her, yet at the end of it she seems to be aware that something is hiding inside her, and is mourning her inability to "open" it. Are these different elements inside of the narrator, or has the narrator come to a sort of revelation by the end of the poem?

---

Anyway, to answer to your specific request for edits, the main thing that struck me as needing attention was usage and spelling. Be careful of words that sound the same, but have different meanings. Some cases of this:

line 4 - Is "won't" supposed to read "want" here? "Won't" may have been placed there for effect, in which case it's fine to keep, but "want" does seem to fit better.

l. 20 - "more unclear" sounds a bit cluttered due to its positive/negative arrangement here. Perhaps "less clear" would sound a bit smoother?

l. 25 - "hole" (a pit) is probably intended here, rather than "whole" (complete).

l. 34 - just a typo, but I'm guessing that "scared" was intended here rather than "sacred"? Or was a hint of religion related to the soul implied?

l. 43 - is "fill" intended here rather than "feel"? Or is it a reference to the manner that the "thing" feels the space?

ll. 47-49 - "within" is one word, and "OK" is commonly either capitalized or seperated with periods (or both... or spelled out as "okay").

l. 59 - is "wander" (to roam) intended here, rather than "wonder" (to desire to know)?

I would also recommend dropping the lines "Something is better than nothing/Nothing is better than something," as they strike me as very general statements that have little to do with the theme of the poem itself.

---

Grammar is a lot more loose when it comes to poetry, but there were a few moments in this that you might consider revising:

l. 9 - the comma in this sentence seperates the object ("need") from the verb ("calls"), which might confuse the reader. Consider dropping the comma, unless you intended it as something other than the need calling.

l. 28 - the comma here also may create confusion, as "what I have lost" doesn't seem to stand well on its own. Consider dropping this comma.

l. 43 - the semicolon here feels awkward as the phrase preceeding it isn't completely grammatical. One option might be to drop it and replace it with "that."

l. 52 - you might consider inserting "had" after "never" in this line to make it more grammatical.

---

Anyway, those are just a couple of comments, and other people may have more to add. Thank you very much for posting this and sharing it here. :-) I hope that some of these comments help, and look forward to reading any revisions or new poetry that you have to offer.

I found this footage of one of the highlights of the People Under the Stairs show that I saw in San Francisco, and thought I would share it here. This is PUTS performing the most memorable track of the evening, "San Francisco Knights":

Watch the Video on MySpace Here

It's hard to make out anyone in the audience given the quality of the footage/lighting, but I'm one of the dudes with the long arms in the front row. ;-p I should have a bunch of pictures from the show to link to eventually as well.

Peace,

Wyv~

Floccinaucinihilipilification

The shaking tail stinger under the Recruiter's Desk calms to a light tremble at the sound of the Office door shutting. Wyvern lifts his claws to the desktop and slowly peeks over the edge, his horns half-camoflauged in a pair of discarded sandwich wrappers. His eyes scan the area of the Office, moving from the ash remains of paperwork piles to the smokey vapors left in the fireballs wake. Wyvern lifts himself from his crouching position, only to huddle back for a moment as he rescans the room for any signs of the emissary of flames. Finding none, the lizard breaths a long sigh of relief and stands in full, turning to the new application sheet on his desk. His head promptly jerks away from the sheet, however, as the Office door swings open again.

"I almost forgot." Phoenix walks back into the room, only to pause and raise a brow at the sight of the Elder of Initiates. Wyvern stands frozen on top of his desk chair, his toothy maw wide in terror and his claws outstretched in what might have been a defensive stance. The flaming applicant frowns at the pale tint of the lizard's scales, and clears his throat. "Have I come at a bad time?"

"N-n-n-n-no, no no." Wyvern drops his defensive stance and takes a deep breath, then hops back off of his chair and bows a bit. "In fact, you couldnt've have come at a better time. Now that that crummy Pen Reperations Bill has been incinerated, Ozymandias'll have no way to pin the cost of disssaster #108 on me. Come, take a ssseat."

Phoenix stares at Wyvern for a long moment, then nods and seats himself on one of the available applicant easychairs. The cushion warms beneath him.

"Sssorry for acting so frightened, I thought you might have been a disssgruntled ogre who had tasted Almost Dragonic Brand Not-so-Chile Molten Lava Sauce™ for the first (and probably last) time." Wyvern rustles Phoenix's application sheet a few times, then reads it over in a series of nods and darting eye movements. He places the sheet back down on his desktop once he's finished and grins in the applicant's direction. "A self-made fire bird, I see. Well, there may be some use for that Almost Dragonic Brand Winter Tanning Booth™ product of mine yet!"

Wyvern sneers in Phoenix's direction as a bloodthirsty salesman would towards his primary clent, then begins fishing through his desktop for a stamp.

"Can't wait to see how you and Troy get along, it'sss just a shame that Merelas never seems to visit anymore." Wyvern plucks his acceptance stamp from under a lewd centerfold of two elven ladies working a pile of leaves, and stamps Phoenix's application ACCEPTED. He hops out of his seat and hands the sheet to him, then raises a claw and whispers:

"And for the recordsss, I agree with your views concerning belligerent kittens... but it's the cute and innocent ones that really need to burn."

With that, Wyvern bows and wanders back towards his desk, mumbling something about the prophecies of recent application titles as his tail drags through the ash.

;-p

OOC: An ACCEPTED application poem, Pheonix. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! :-) I look forward to reading more of your stuff, and also hope to participate with you in some community projects. I hope that you find the Pen a very open and friendly community of writers, and that you feel welcome in your stay. :-)

I like this poem, sea vegetable. :-) Your use of language strikes me as interesting, not only with the foreign terms "toitoi" and "kohowai," but also with the use of "paint" to describe the bathing and cleansing. I also appreciate how concise and well-phrased this poem is, and like the sensual image that it evokes. The one thing that I'm uncertain of is whether the poem might benefit from a bit of punctuation or not... the lack thereof does give it an interesting feel, but there were points where I was a bit uncertain as to how sets of lines should be read (i.e would it be "She painted herself to clean the dark corners. An invitation" or "She painted herself. To clean the dark corners, an invitation"?).

Good stuff, I look forward to reading more of your work. :-) Welcome to the Pen.

Zepheri and MeThinksUFoolish raise their heads as they hear a slow shuffling sound approaching the Office door. Their eyes widen as they notice a figure wrapped from head to toe in a long roll of parchment. The mummy's arms stretch out and weave from side to side, hitting walls and knocking over expensive Mynx Vases. A wrapped tail and stinger drag behind him, shifting across the Pen carpet in an irritating scratch of fiber. Zepheri and MeThinksUFoolish freeze up as the mummy passes by the outdoor bench. They notice the tag "Pen Reperations Bills" written on a coil wrapped over one of the mummy's head spikes, and hold their breath as the figure passes into the Office door. Zepheri stares at the ground for a long moment, then slowly turns to MeThinksUFoolish.

"Wh-who was that, Savage Dragon?"

MeThinksUFoolish raises his chin up in an heroic poise, rubbing the back of his hand across his chest and flashing a smug grin.

"Well, I think that might have bee-"

"AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

Zepheri and MeThinksUFoolish cringe as a crashing sound echoes from within the Office, followed by several clanging and collapsing noises. Zepheri stares at the ground again, then hops off of the bench and approaches the Office door.

"We should really go in."

"W-wait." MeThinksUFoolish bites his lip and stays frozen in place. "Err, m-m-maybe we should wait."

Zepheri ignores MeThinksUFoolish's shakey voice as she steps in front of the Office door. It swings open before she has a chance to reach for the handle, however, and she takes a step back as a bruised and battered Wyvern pounces out of the room. The overgrown lizard raises a claw as his eyes dart from Zepheri to MeThinksUFoolish, and he snorts a brief smoke ring before speaking up:

"Pen Disssaster #108: Bouncing DoctorEvil Statue Dominates Pen's Floors and Ceilings." Wyvern shakes his head and lets his eyes droop down to the beginning of the unraveled bill. "I'm drained, come back in the next four or five yearsss for yer taxesss."

"Taxes? W-wait, I'm not a collector!" Zepheri grabs her application story and thrusts it in Wyvern's direction. "I just wanna apply."

Wyvern casts a suspicious look at Zepheri, then licks a claw and plucks the application from her hands. The reptilian Elder glances over the story, then frowns and ruffles the page in front of himself.

"Are you ssssure this isn't some subtle way of saying 'better pay off your taxes or we'll twist swords in your wrists and ankles before setting you on fire'?"

"No, no!" Zepheri shakes her head. "Honest, it was written from the heart."

"O.K, I just ask 'cus that's the typical IRS approach." Wyvern examines the sheet again. "I can certainly sssympathize with the bit about being judged unfairly... I would advize against letting Tamaranis see this document until you've gotten to know him well, lest his fangs do the talking for him."

Zepheri opens her mouth to respond, but Wyvern darts back into his Office before she has a chance. He reemerges with her application sheeted stamped "ACCEPTED."

"Now that that easy bit has been taken care of, you'll have to help me clean up that broken vase down the hall." Wyvern lets out a dismal sigh. "Mynx won't be happy if she finds that 'Flexing Gryphon' porcelain shattered, and I've got enough bills to pay as it stands if y'know what I'm saying."

;-p

OOC: An ACCEPTED application, Zepheri. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! I look forward to reading more of your writing, and participating with you in interactive threads. I hope you find us a friendly and welcoming community to share your writing with.

"Well," Jack raises a hand to his chin and looks the orc over, ignoring the angry scowl on its face. "That is an admitted improvement, though as you can tell by the reactions of the fair customers of this bakery, you have much to learn on the subject of proper dress codes."

Jack's eyes connect with the orc's bared fangs, and he frowns deeply as it growls. He lifts a hand to his face, then lets it fall to a large pocket of his elven dance outfit.

"But it seems, on the subject of etiquette, there is something I must teach you first."

Jack's eyes narrow as he carefully wraps his fingers around the object within his pocket. He tightens his grip and steels the position of his arm, letting off a hint of a smile. He then takes a quick step forward and swings outward with the item.

3d6 (9) + Dexterity (1) = 10

Jack lifts the breath freshener in the direction of the orc's face and clicks on it twice, spraying the freshener in the direction of the orc's mouth.

Wyvern shifts through the files of poetry cluttered in the Banquet Hall, letting the tips of his forked tongue glide over the tops of the faded Manila envelopes containing Tasslehof's poetry. Some of the tastes are obscured by the stale dirt of time, but the tang of regret and a bittersweet flavor of love still find their way to the lizard's tastebuds. His tongue goes dry after passing through numerous files, but his claws pause as the distinct flavor of straightjacket passes through his mouth. The reptilian Elder pulls an envelope from the drawer and holds it up to the light:

-=Untitled=-

 

the game we play,

provides us with the strength,

to test our own sanity,

can you keep up with me now,

Im finally ahead of your plan,

completely done with you,

no more tricks; no more lies,

seeing the truth among a few,

sadness escapes me; no more watery eyes,

there is a new me in this new world,

with new hope and regenerated wings I fly,

exploring all that is new

Wyvern grins and dips his parched tongue into a pitcher of booze. He reminsces of straightjackets past as his tongue soaks in the liquid, and notices the fine conquest over watery eyes in the ninth line of the poem. He sets his booze aside and nods at the hope of regenerating wings and flight, then holds up the poem and declares it his favorite from Tasslehof.

OOC: Sorry to hear about the Floppy Disc problem. :/ Hope that the depression is one of old software, and not of inspiration.