Wyvern

Wyvern raised a brow as Murg turned his head away from the Sun. He cringed at the glazed look on the construction worker's face, and took a step back as Murg keeled over and collapsed into a patch of dirt. Wyvern stared at the motionless body of the lizard man for a moment, then crossed his arms over his chest. "Ssslacking off on the job, are you? Well get back to work! Being possessed by a forest spirit is no excuse, we've got building to do here!" Wyvern glared down at the immobile body of Murg, then signaled to Gurpu with a claw. "Gurpu! Go drag thisss body over to the construction site, tell'em to use it as a stepping stool for laying mortar." Wyvern let out a short cackle as he watched Gurpu approach the area, only to frown as the lizard man minion paused in his tracks in front of him. "Defiler." Wyvern grimaced and stared in disbelief. His jaw dropped open, causing the remains of his large cigar to fall into a charred spot of ash. "Ah geeze, not thisss again." Wyvern stomped a foot on the ground and growled. "Lemme guess, forest spirit right?" "Indeed." Gurpu picked up a large gnarled branch from the ground and stepped forward, pointing it at Wyvern like a sword. "And, with my new knowledge of the consequences that staring into the Sun have on mortals, I demand that you cease this building immediately." Wyvern tugged at the collar of his suit as the tip of the gnarled branch slowly trailed up to his neck. He bit his scaly lip, then pointed with a claw. "Hey! Look over there: a bio-nuclear test dumping service with a vehicle built out of pure bearskins!" Gurpu turned and dropped his guard with the branch, and Wyvern turned to flee. The reptilian Elder raced through the construction grounds, darting between unstable cranes and lizard man worker pyramids with Gurpu hot on his trail. Wyvern came to a panting halt as he arrived at a large oak tree, and Gurpu let out a triumphant laugh akin to a hyena's howling. "Defiler." Gurpu grinned and bent his branch a bit to test its flexibility. "You have nowhere left to run. Now, cease your vile operations immediately!" "Ohh yeeeaaaaaaaah?" Wyvern grinned back at Gurpu and pulled out an Almost Dragonic Brand Spontaneously Combustible Lighter™. He sneered as he held it to the base of the tree trunk. "Don't pull anything funny. One wrong move, and thisss whole forest goes up in flames!" Gurpu frowned and stepped back, lowering his branch and muttering "Defiler" in a fearful whisper. "That'ssss right." Wyvern let out a long gale of evil laughter. "From this point forward, you're working for me."

I really like this piece, Azuran. :-) I think that it falls into the realm of prose, but can see where the confusion over where to post it arises from since it's very poetic in its descriptions. As Tanuchan mentioned, the imagery and wording of the piece are very original and well-incorporated. I especially liked how you described the sensation of falling evoked by the wind, as it really gave off a good sense of the protagonist's interior emotions and brought the sensation to life. One thing that struck me as a bit odd in this piece was that the first paragraph really drew me into the emotions of the protagonist, while the second set me at a great distance from him. I found the shift quite interesting, though rather jarring since it came so suddenly. On a side note: I didn't think that the more general statements in the last paragraph, such as "The heart desires but the mind knows better," really added anything to the piece since they're sort of common knowledge. Very well done once again, particularly with the descriptions conveying feelings and emotions. Thanks for sharing.

Nice little piece, Tasslehof. :-) It reads sort of like the lyrics to a song to me, and I like the heartfelt message of maintaining relationships over long distances. The only thing that felt a bit out of place to me was the word "Headstrong" in the last line, since it's an adjective that's usually used in negative contexts and didn't seem to fit the mood of the rest of the poem to me... though perhaps that's what you had intended with it. Out of curiousity, is there a reason behind the capitalization of every word? Thanks for sharing, it's good to hear from you. :-)

Wyvern barges through the Cabaret Room doors, dressed in only a scarlet birthday gift ribbon and crowned with a flurry of whipped cream on his horns. The overgrown lizard glances left and right until he spots the curled tail of a certain special succubus. He clears his throat of a few ashes and makes sure that his ribbon looks presentable, then skips over to Signe and spreads his arms out before her. "Happy birthday Ssssigne!" Signe turns and pauses for a moment as she notices Wyvern's state. The reptilian Elder grins and winks, then unties the ribbon from himself and hands it to her. "Here, I got you this ribbon. Thought it might look good in your hair." Signe slowly accepts the ribbon from Wyvern's claws, then stares at it blankly. "Oh, and sssorry about arriving like this." Wyvern raises a claw to the back of his head and stares at the ground. "I got my horns dirty when I dug into the cake, and got rid of my clothes cus' I thought they'd be evidence that I dug into the cake before I was supposed to. Errr..." Signe's eyes narrow. "You dug into the cake?" "H-h-have a great one." Wyvern turns and runs as fast as his scaly legs can carry him. The lizard pauses before two portraits by the door, depicting Sorciere and Knight, and tags them with "Happy Birthday!"s before sprinting out of the room. ;-) OOC: Hope you have a great birthday, Signe. :-) May it only be a prelude to the happiness to come, best wishes to you and Candarius. Also, a very Happy Birthday to Sorciere and Knight (whose birthday was yesterday), two very fine pennites who have been absent but whose legacies live on through their posts.

The first daylight was filtered through the leaves... which were promptly cut down by a troglyodyte in a hard hat weilding a chainsaw. The Almost Dragonic Inc. employees were singing their promotional hymns, and the creatures of the day were awakening and getting the hell out of the clearing. The cry of the eagle gave the solemn groan of a shrike a bloodcurdling background. The forest was now dabbled in charred blackened spots, and Wyvern held out his claw to crush the last remaining flower. "Mr. Wyvern, sir." A lizard man in a hard hat approached the reptilian Elder and held out a complicated series of blueprints. "Last patch of trees has been cleared out, awaiting permission to start building a foundation for the Almost Dragonic Brand Environmentally Unsound Megamall™." Wyvern chuckled and cradled the giant cigar clenched between his teeth. He brushed the collar of his flashy Hawaiin business suit, then plucked the cigar from his mouth with a claw and blew a smoke pitchfork. "Go right on ahead, I didn't hire you to dabble around in the woods!" Wyvern considered tapping the ash from his cigar onto the grass, but then thought better of it. "Ferrang, Gurpu - where's my ashtray?!" Two lizardmen in hard hats wandered up to Wyvern with a platter holding a squirrel tied down in bonds. Wyvern grinned and doused out his cigar on the squirrel's tail. "Don't forget to nail the 'Mega $$$avings' arrow signs into animal nests, they're more visible that way." Wyvern watched the head construction worker head off, then turned to Ferrang and Gurpu. "You two, make sure that the shrike groaning by that tree stump isn't property of Degenero Angelus. Last thing we need is a Quincunx-related lawsuit to impede our progresss..." Wyvern watched Ferrang and Gurpu head off, then leaned back on a deer corpse and rubbed his claws together at the thought of Almost Dragonic Brand Debt-Dealer Banks™ and Curly Onion Cheesedoodle Factories.

Imagine they imagine you so when you don't exist you can picture yourself in their eyes. Think they think of you, when they never speak or touch, so the broken words let you down gently. Pretend you still feel at home. But wish you didn't always invest, turning their absence unimaginable.

A nice poem, serenesandiego. :-) I really like the relationship established between the narrator and his/her significant other, as the sense of insecurity and confusion that it generates is good. I also like the way the narrator admits weakness through the metaphor of being reeled in. The use of repetition in the lines "Longing for simplicity,/ longing for someone to long for me" is also nice, and drives across a sense of longing in the poem. In terms of potential things to improve: while the narrator's turn to faith at the end of the piece is strong, I didn't like the last two stanzas, which struck me as more general and vague than the rest of the piece. I had a similar problem with the fourth stanza, and felt it might be stronger if the questions were implicit to the reader rather than being stated by the narrator. Finally, there were times where I felt the rhyme scheme of the poem resulted in some awkward phrasing, and you might consider reworking it. Thanks for sharing this here. :-) Welcome to the Mighty Pen! :-)

Thanks to everyone who participated in this madlib. :-) The original segment used for this madlib was from Sweetcherrie's story "Dark Angel", and reads as follows: This segment was then deconstructed in madlib fashion to form the following: Participants then filled in the blanks, resulting in the following versions: Appy’s Version: The purple-green around the girl made her face look bouncy, exactly the way Laanders liked it. She looked almost lucky the way she wandered against the background. She was an excellent shoe-maker, and such a shame he couldn’t use her more often for shoots. It had been purely luck that he could be here today, and that she had said “Bollucks!” when he had asked for 15 minutes of her time. In fact, she was normally so dreadful that he didn’t think he would ever be working again with such a good blue dress. Her face smiled, but behind those teeth he saw green slippers and he wondered whether he would be able to capture it in the images. Laanders always changed his models, he couldn’t help it. He had studied photography, but his hobby had always been building plane models, which was probably why he’d always received the highest grades on Laander’s pink bathrobe exercises. He liked to think that he didn’t only look at people, but really disinfected them as well. “Sweetcherrie, time’s up. You’ve already given this young man a lot of your precious time.” The manager stepped in, and Laanders started clearing away his bathslippers. He’d shot three rolls in 42 minutes, not bad. And the man was right; she had already given him 42 minutes instead of 15, and pictures that would be sensual, formally. Zadown’s Version The coruscating emerald hue around the girl made her face look mortal, exactly the way the Dreamer liked it. She looked almost rune-adorned the way she was conjured against the background. She was an excellent artificer, and such a shame he couldn’t use her more often for shoots. It had been purely luck that he could be here today, and that she had said “By the Three Fates!” when he had asked for 15 minutes of her time. In fact, she was normally so eldricht that he didn’t think he would ever be working again with such a good blade. Her face smiled, but behind those scars he saw wards and he wondered whether he would be able to capture them in the images. The Dreamer always bewitched his models, he couldn’t help it. He had studied photography, but his hobby had always been skinning angels, which was probably why he’d always received the highest grades on Chárôt-card exercises. He liked to think that he didn’t only look at people, but really crushed them as well. “Faaye, time’s up. You’ve already given this young man a lot of your precious time.” The manager stepped in, and the Dreamer started clearing away his crossbow. He’d shot three rolls in 2768 minutes, not bad. And the man was right; she had already given him 2768 minutes instead of 15, and pictures that would be glimmering, hideously. Sweetcherrie’s Version The hazy grey around the girl made her face look sleepy, exactly the way Ozymandias liked it. She looked almost cloudy the way she dreamed against the background. She was an excellent Sandman, and such a shame he couldn’t use her more often for shoots. It had been purely luck that he could be here today, and that she had said “no way!” when he had asked for 15 minutes of her time. In fact, she was normally so lovely that he didn’t think he would ever be working again with such a good pillow like her. Her face smiled, but behind those eyes he saw a blanket and he wondered whether he would be able to capture it in the images. Ozymandias always loved his models, he couldn’t help it. He had studied photography, but his hobby had always been pottery, which was probably why he’d always received the highest grades on coffeepot exercises. He liked to think that he didn’t only look at people, but really swept them as well. “Katzaniel, time’s up. You’ve already given this young man a lot of your precious time.” The manager stepped in, and Ozymandias started clearing away his teaspoon. He’d shot three rolls in 25 minutes, not bad. And the man was right; she had already given him 25 minutes instead of 15, and pictures that would be grumpy, naughtily. Tanuchan’s Version The grayish-blue around the girl made her face look scandalous, exactly the way Nathan liked it. She looked almost queer the way she purified against the background. She was an excellent blacksmith, and such a shame he couldn’t use her more often for shoots. It had been purely luck that he could be here today, and that she had said “look out!” when he had asked for 15 minutes of her time. In fact, she was normally so impatient that he didn’t think he would ever be working again with such a good stapler like her. Her face smiled, but behind those kidneys he saw a drawer and he wondered whether he would be able to capture it in the images. Nathan always hit his models, he couldn’t help it. He had studied photography, but his hobby had always been skiing, which was probably why he’d always received the highest grades on sea exercises. He liked to think that he didn’t only look at people, but really drown them as well. “Katherine, time’s up. You’ve already given this young man a lot of your precious time.” The manager stepped in, and Nathan started clearing away his rake. He’d shot three rolls in Pi minutes, not bad. And the man was right; she had already given him Pi minutes instead of 15, and pictures that would be salacious, absent-mindedly. lord nor's Version The fuscia around the girl made her face look unholy, exactly the way Dirk liked it. She looked almost wiggly the way she skeedaddled against the background. She was an excellent street-sweeper, and such a shame he couldn’t use her more often for shoots. It had been purely luck that he could be here today, and that she had said “By the Purple Pants of Antonio Vivaldi!” when he had asked for 15 minutes of her time. In fact, she was normally so leathery that he didn’t think he would ever be working again with such a good colliseum like her. Her face smiled, but behind those tonsils he saw a halberd and he wondered whether he would be able to capture it in the images. Dirk always sauntered over his models, he couldn’t help it. He had studied photography, but his hobby had always been making ships in barrels (out of bottles), which was probably why he’d always received the highest grades on goblet exercises. He liked to think that he didn’t only look at people, but really coalesced them as well. “Scary Sue, time’s up. You’ve already given this young man a lot of your precious time.” The manager stepped in, and Dirk started clearing away his rabbit. He’d shot three rolls in googoloplex minutes, not bad. And the man was right; she had already given him googolplex minutes instead of 15, and pictures that would be crinkly, historically. Patrick Durham's Version The other around the girl made her face look miniscule, exactly the way William liked it. She was almost smelly like Roquefort the way she was square-rooted against the background. She was an excellent writer, and such a shame he couldn’t use her more often for shoots. It had been purely luck that he could be here today, and that she had said “Bollocks!” when he had asked for 15 minutes of her time. In fact, she was normally so shaky that he didn’t think he would ever be working again with such good research like her. Her face smiled, but behind those locks of hair he saw a deep-sea chart and he wondered whether he would be able to capture it in the images. William always elevated his models, he couldn’t help it. He had studied photography, but his hobby had always been collecting stamps, which was probably why he’d always received the highest grades on high tide exercises. He liked to think that he didn’t only look at people, but really nit-picked them as well. “Susanne, time’s up. You’ve already given this young man a lot of your precious time.” The manager stepped in, and William started clearing away his pollenation. He’d shot three rolls in square root of minus 1 minutes, not bad. And the man was right; she had already given him square root of minus 1 minutes instead of 15, and pictures that would be sickly brown, proverbially. Azuran’s Version The transparency around the girl made her face look disposable, exactly the way the Great Hernaldo liked it. She looked almost sticky the way she was tickled against the background. She was an excellent circus clown, and such a shame he couldn’t use her more often for shoots. It had been purely luck that he could be here today, and that she had said “Hallelujah!” when he had asked for 15 minutes of her time. In fact, she was normally so enormous that he didn’t think he would ever be working again with such a good diaper like her. Her face smiled, but behind those earlobes he saw a hand grenade and he wondered whether he would be able to capture it in the images. The Great Hernaldo always ate his models, he couldn’t help it. He had studied photography, but his hobby had always been invading small countries, which was probably why he’d always received the highest grades on banana exercises. He liked to think that he didn’t only look at people, but really cleaned them as well. “Aunt Esmerelda, time’s up. You’ve already given this young man a lot of your precious time.” The manager stepped in, and the Great Hernaldo started clearing away his hamburger. He’d shot three rolls in far too few minutes, not bad. And the man was right; she had already given him far too few minutes instead of 15, and pictures that would be floppy, flamboyantly. Quincunx’s Version The ultramarine around the girl made her face look like the only one, exactly the way Calvin liked it. She looked almost unlikely the way she was equivocated against the background. She was an excellent mathematician, and such a shame he couldn’t use her more often for shoots. It had been purely luck that he could be here today, and that she had said “Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition!” when he had asked for 15 minutes of her time. In fact, she was normally so riveted that he didn’t think he would ever be working again with such a good dime (heads) like her. Her face smiled, but behind those navels he saw liquidity and he wondered whether he would be able to capture it in the images. Calvin always speculated his models, he couldn’t help it. He had studied photography, but his hobby had always been playing pinochle, which was probably why he’d always received the highest grades on pigment exercises. He liked to think that he didn’t only look at people, but really quibbled over them as well. “Susie, time’s up. You’ve already given this young man a lot of your precious time.” The manager stepped in, and Calvin started clearing away his figment. He’d shot three rolls in a few minutes, not bad. And the man was right; she had already given him a few minutes instead of 15, and pictures that would be glossy, seldomly. The Portrait of Zool’s Version The watermelon-seed black around the girl made her face look dribbley, exactly the way Choo liked it. She looked almost addictive the way she pollinated against the background. She was an excellent Guillotinist, and such a shame he couldn’t use her more often for shoots. It had been purely luck that he could be here today, and that she had said “Great Ceaser’s Weltanschauung!” when he had asked for 15 minutes of her time. In fact, she was normally so beautiful that he didn’t think he would ever be working again with such a good barn like her. Her face smiled, but behind those short-hairs he saw a rat and he wondered whether he would be able to capture it in the images. Choo always bent his models, he couldn’t help it. He had studied photography, but his hobby had always been fencing, which was probably why he’d always received the highest grades on cat exercises. He liked to think that he didn’t only look at people, but really tousled them as well. “Ahhh, time’s up. You’ve already given this young man a lot of your precious time.” The manager stepped in, and Choo started clearing away his thong. He’d shot three rolls in 47 minutes, not bad. And the man was right; she had already given him 47 minutes instead of 15, and pictures that would be corroded, extremely..

Great poem, Yui-chan. :-) The whole metaphor of firefly thoughts was very well thought-out and incorporated, and I really liked the way the fragmented line structure reflected the flickering of the thoughts. I also liked how the word choice shifted with the tone, as the switch to "lightning bugs" was a very effective means of conveying the chaos of the thoughts. The ending to the poem was also very intriguing, and brought it to a very strong close. In terms of possible things to improve: the line "For you are beautiful, my dancers." felt a bit wordier than the rest of the piece to me, and you might consider cutting it to "You are beautiful" or just dropping the initial "For.". The phrasing of "stopped caring that I can't connect" in line 8 also struck me as a bit awkward, though I find the message behind the line very intriguing. Anyway, great stuff once again. :-) Strangly, the first time I skimmed over this piece, I missed the reference to the thoughts being "behind eyes" and thought it could be a poem about the internet... but then, 'net stuff seems to crop up in my poetry all too often. ;-p

Nice poems, Yog. :-) I particularly liked "Sweet Sorrow," and thought the manner that the narrator was waiting for a "pattern to emerge" was very intriguing. "Symmetry" was also a very succinct set of interesting observations, and the image of all things vibrating was a good one. "Desert Rain" and "Autumn Wind" both struck me as nice nature poems, and I especially liked the cyclical theme of "Desert Rain" with the dryness resuming after the rainfall. "Hugs and Tears" seemed to have a strong emotional base behind it, though I wasn't as big a fan of it due to the rhyme scheme. Though the rhymes were consistant and well thought out, I didn't really think they fit the sombre mood that the subject matter suggested. Anyway, thanks for sharing these Yog. :-) It's always nice to see you posting here.

Wyvern marches into the Cabaret Room carrying an Almost Dragonic Brand Jeerleader Baton™. The overgrown lizard clutches the petrified bat's wing and twirls the beast in his claws as a small band of Elder dwarves marches into the room, bearing a tuba, two xylophones, and a triangular chime. Wyvern strikes a claws up as the dwarves begin playing a makeshift cover of the Racouolettes song "Happy Birthday, Mr. Supreme Magical Emperor." Wyvern drops the Baton and pulls out two yeti hair wigs, which he proceeds to shake like pompoms. "Gimme a 'W'!" Lord Panther storms into the room with his paws over his ears, trying to deafen the cacophonous noises of the band. "What?!" "Gimme an 'R'!" Wyvern does a quick tail twirl, then dodges a rotten tomatoe tossed by another irritated pennite. "Gimme an 'E'!" Wyvern springs up and flaps his wings twice, then ducks down as someone tosses a sharp portrait of the late-great Woods in his direction. The painting lands in Bravery's tuba, giving the instrument an extra blurt. "Gimme an 'N'!" Wyvern shakes his pompoms for a moment, then pauses and adds as an afterthought: "Not to be confused with the notorious letter N, author of such books as DEF: the Untold Alphabet Story and The N Word: an In-depth Look at Racism in America." The lizard clears his throat for a moment, then mutters a quick "H-A-P-P-Y-" before an angry mob of pennites cuts off his musical backup. ;-) OOC: Happy Birthday, Wrenwind. :-) Sorry it's a little late, hope you had a great day.

Wyvern licks a hint of melted chocolate from his snout and flashes a large grin of razor-sharp teeth in Madoka's direction. The overgrown lizard wipes a snowflake from his horns, then reaches to remove the Almost Dragonic Brand Miniphones™ near the crackling fireplace in the hopes of turning down the sound of the burning wood. The two tiny metallic devices explode in a storm of sparks just as the lizard touches them, and a loud screech of static causes the metallium steel of the sake jug to tremble. Wyvern cringes until the deafening sound fades, then resumes his smile and spreads his scaly arms. "Madoka!" Wyvern dodges a pair of leather pants tossed by Tzimfemme as he makes his way towards the famous samura. A pair of underwear is caught on the lizard's right horn, but goes unnoticed. "Great to see you around these parts again, hope ya had an excccellent year." Wyvern swoops up two glasses of sake, then notices the melted snow at Madoka's feet. He frowns for a moment and pokes at it with his tail to make sure it's real, then lets out a shudder. "Are you ssstill cold at all, Madoka? Cus, y'know, I could get you a nice warm fleece-" Wyvern's head stiffens as he watches Madoka's hand go for the hilt of her murasame. "I-I mean a soft woolen sweat-" Wyvern's eyes widen as Madoka's hand clutches the hilt. "Err, s-sorry, I meant a cozy sheepski-" Wyvern drops his sake glass and dives under Sweetcherrie's seat as Madoka unseaths her blade. The samurai raises a brow at the lizard, then shrugs and shakes her head. She turns towards Nimornril and points at the lizard's poor hiding place. "I was just going to remove those silly boxer shorts from his head." Madoka sheaths her murasame. "Hmph." "Weird." Nimornril takes a long sip of sake and shakes his head. "Maybe boxer short hats are the next big reptilian fashion trend?" ;-)

Wyvern sets three tiny cups of Almost Dragonic Brand AlphaBet-a Cereal™ on the counter of his Cabaret table, then tags them with the sign "A+ for cutting the roofs of mouths" before kicking back in his seat. The overgrown lizard grunts as he tugs at the tape of the boxes at his side, then tosses several flimsy books onto the table. He then hops out of his seat and waves to pennites passing by, holding out a copy of the book and striking a sleazy salesman sneer. "Come one, come all! See what happenssss behind the scenes in DEF: the Untold Alphabet Story. Ssscandalous depictions of antelopes and zebras, right here!" "Lemme see that." Lord nor grabs a copy of the book. He looks both ways to make sure that nobody's watching him touch Almost Dragonic product, then flips it open. His eyes widen at the contents. DEF: the Untold Alphabet Story, Vol. 1 Brought to you by the notorious letter N. As Antlermane the antelope ambled through the wilderness, he observed the beavers in charge of building barriers. They were hard at work building the forts, but he was uncertain that their leader, Canid, would turn to cackling upon seeing the progress that they had made. The last time she had cackled, it had been at his father, Hooveherd the antelope, who had turned down the flower dress that Prosperro had offered as the price of failure. Beavers scurried left and right as the heavy artillery stepped in with earthshaking force. Antlermane watched them with wide eyes. The unit of eighty elephants would be their central offense, even if it was their fault that eleven eels were elected to the forest court. Canid had mentioned that animals brave enough to stop the human campfires would recieve fish, and Antlermane hoped that a shortage would result in the eels being tossed to the wolves. Certain that the beavers were doing their job and that the units were in place, Antlermane wandered to a clearing where a few gorillas were gaily gallivanting and knelt beside a pond for a drink. As his tongue lapped up the refreshing water, his eyes wandered to the trees, home to so many different peaceful birds. Those nests were still haunted by the ghosts of poachers and sleazeball toothpick industrialists. Humans. He knew that even the Inuit eskimo tribe, who were so close to nature, were merciless murderers of fish. He remembered a story of how they supposedly gutted the fat to insulate their igloos, and his quiet drink lost its flavour. "Hey!" Doubting the accuracy of the tall tale but still shivering at the thought, Antlermane glanced towards the gorillas of the clearing. He watched their joyful games of jumping jacks with sad eyes, wondering if the upcoming war would ever bring peace to the forest again. The thoughts of the lumberjacks made him grind his hooves in the dirt, and it was at that moment that Buzz the humming bird messenger landed on his left antler. "Hey, hey!" Everything seemed to go still for Antlermane as Buzz hummed to him in frantic tones. "It's begunnnn it's begunnnn! BigScale, one of the krakennnnn guards, was over- he was over, by the Oceannnnn fronnnnnt onnnnnn patrol, an-and there was a hummmmman wommmmmmmmmman rafting." "Oh God, BigScale? Not that pervert." "The very onnnnne! He got mmmmmmm cocky, so he decided to show'er his scales annnnnnd she kicked him in the fins! Annnd then she turned to her friennnnd, and was like 'see Laura, I told you he'd be-" "HEY!" Wyvern snatches the book from lord nor's hands and grits his teeth, pointing a claw to the price tag. "You wanna read about kinky krakenssss? Well, it's gonna cost you, the price is there for a reason." Wyvern casts a final glare at lord nor, then tosses a sheet of paper labeled "Alpha-Betting" on the table. "Now then, who wants to place the first bets on what the next word sequence will be? I'm gonna go with 'Naughty nude nymphs nuzzle numerous newlyweds nightly.' ;-)

Here's a new Mighty Pen Madlib to give people's spontaneous creativity a workout. :-) Instructions on how to play are included at the beginning of this thread, for those who would like to participate but don't know how. Here's the list: 1. Colour 2. Adjective 3. Name of Male 4. Adjective 5. Verb (Past Tense) 6. A Profession 7. An Exclamation 8. Adjective 9. Noun 10. Part of Body (Plural) 11. Noun 12. Verb (Past Tense) 13. A Hobby 14. Noun 15. Verb (Past Tense) 16. Name of Female 17. Noun 18. A Number 19. Adjective 20. Adverb

Over the course of the last month or so, I watched the first four seasons of "Family Guy" in chronological order. My family gave me a few boxed sets of the show for Christmas, so I thought it'd only be right to watch them ifrom beginning to end. Anyway, I maintain my opinion that "Family Guy" is hands down one of the funniest shows on American T.V. I was going to post a list of some of my favorite episodes and moments, but honestly 98% of the series is laugh-out-loud hilarious and it's too hard to play favorites. One thing that I will say, though, is that I find the first three seasons funnier than the fourth, and think that the show lost a bit of its steam when it came back on after cancellation. A friend of mine mentioned that it partially has to do with Seth McFarlane no longer being afraid of going all out with his risky inflammatory humor, and I think he may be right since not all of the inflammatory jokes are done in as good taste as the first seasons. Having said this, the newer episodes certainly aren't bad, and still have a number of great moments in them (the firetruck documentary, Cookie Monster rehab clinic, and "P2: Crucify This" scenes all come to mind),. Just goes to show how funny a show this is. I obviously recommend "Family Guy" and think it's laughs galore, though I will note that those with staunch stances on political correctness might find its humor too outrageous to bare. Also, if you're looking for a show that's primarily character-based, you might be baffled by the frequent cut scenes and pop culture references/parodies/disses. Still, while I'm sure most people have seen at least one episode at this point, you should definitely look into it if you haven't. One of the funniest ever!

Wyvern tacks a long list of party activities near the Cabaret Room door, watching as the sheet unravels itself and rolls into the hallway for all to see. The overgrown lizard grins at the tribute to Salinye's once-vibrant Pen activity, then steps between the words "Chocolate Mud Wrestling" and "Choir Concert" as he rolls a hooded baby carriage into the room. The overgrown lizard pauses, then sticks a party whistle into his mouth and blows it in a high-pitched screech just as someone slips over the paper in the hall. He then opens the hood of the carriage, revealing a cake with pen-shaped candles and the words "Happy Birthday Salinye" scrawled in uneven whipped cream. *Ahem* Wyvern takes out a sheet of paper from his front pocket and a pair of spectacles, then clears his throat and speaks in an elegent tone. "In consistancy with Salinye's wonderful past Pen projects, I shall now 'Adopt a Style' and wish her the happiest of days in the style of 50 Cent's book From Pieces to Weight: Once Upon a Time in Southside Queens O.K, hereitgoes." Wyvern closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then tosses off his spectacles along with his shirt and breaks into a jig. "GO SHAWTY! IT'S YA BIRTHDAY! IT'S YA BIRTHDAY (IhopeIdon'tgetshotforthis)!" ;-) OOC: A very Happy Birthday to you, Salinye. And for the record: no, I didn't actually read that book. ;-p

Wyvern pauses in front of the extra-wide double doors, lifting a clenched claw and casting a final glance towards the tall object at his side. The used dining cloth cloaking the device made it resemble a ghost with an eating disorder, or perhaps a phantom with a longing to break out of the stereotypical "haunt in white" trend. Wyvern's tail twitches as he considers the bare tabletop in Lady Celes Crusador's Cafe, but he represses thoughts of sharpened kitchen knives as a familiar voice calls from behind the doors. "Come iiiinnnnnn!" Wyvern takes a deep breath, then grabs an edge of tablecloth and enters into Happybuddha's dining quarters. The great Buddha himself sits at the end of an enormous table, covered in a mountain of dishes ranging from mountain goat to free range chicken. Happybuddha gestures from his shrine of a seat, setting a deer leg to the side and letting out a hardy laugh. "Wyvern! How can I help you?" "Well," Wyvern clears his throat of a few ashes and taps a claw on the object by his side. "I actually wanted to give you this... thing." Happybuddha glances at the standing cloak at Wyvern's side, then shakes his head and grunts. "Sorry Wyv, if you want get rid of your spectres, take'em elsewhere. Especially spectres with eating disor-" "Oh, it'sss not a ghost. Here," Wyvern grabs the tablecloth and tosses it off of the object, revealing what appears to be the remains of his Almost Dragonic Brand Mouseketeer™ attached to a stick. Happybuddha stares for a moment, then claps his hands and smiles. "A tablecloth! How thoughtful of you, thanks Wy-" "Errr, not that." Wyvern points to the remains of the Mouseketeer. "This." Happybuddha stares at the standing remains of the human-sized mousebot, then shakes his head and grunts. "Sorry Wyv, if you want to get rid of your trash, take it-" "It'sss not trash. In fact, it's the opposite!" Wyvern sneers and raises a claw. "This Almost Dragonic Brand Rodesposal Bin™ is perfect for dumping leftover bones once you've finished with them. Just open the mouth/hatch and dump away." "Ohhh, I get it." Happybuddha grins and lets out an echoing laugh. "Well, thanks Wyv. I think I'll try it out right now." Happybuddha picks up a full elephant skeleton from his plate and tosses it towards the open maw of the Almost Dragonic Brand Rodesposal Bin™. The makeshift disposal outlet is crushed under the weight of the gigantic skeleton, and shatters into pieces. "Errr..." Wyvern scratches his neck and watches as the head of the former Mouseketeer rolls across the carpet. "Y'know what... you can just keep the tablecloth." ;-p OOC: Dares going out to Kirja and the Portrait of Zool. ;-)

Wyvern races towards the relaxing light of the Cabaret Room, a round object coiled in one arm and a Birthday card with a picture of an Almost Dragonic Brand Cute and Innocent Kitten Experimentation Outlet™ clutched in the other. The lizard yelps as he trips over a skillfully hidden lamp, careening into another skillfully hidden lamp and burning his card before bonking his head on a skillfully hidden ceiling lamp and toppling over. Lord Panther blinks as the lighting of the room seems to oscilate from one extreme to another, and perks his ears up as a painful almost dragonic groan echoes through the chamber. "Happy Birthday Lord Panther." Wyvern wobbles and almost slips as he extends a claw full of ash to the birthday feline. "Pleasssse accept this, errr... this traditional almost dragonic birthday greeting. It ain't a wyvern party without a bit of greeting card ash sprinkled around for good tidings, even if it ain't vintage volcanic." Wyvern bites his lip as he watches Lord Panther frown at the ash, then perks up and offers him the ball of fabric curled in his other arm. "I also got ya this gift, see?" Lord Panther raises a brow as he turns the fabric in his paws, noticing the numerous letters sown into its seams. "It'sss an Almost Dragonic Brand Ball of Yarns.™" Wyvern strikes a toothy grin and pokes at the fabric. "It has all sorts of tales, see? Wolf tales and monkey tales and fox tales... though, uhh, don't mention that last one to Daryl, I think he prefers the rabbit tales." Having spoken, Wyvern turns in the direction of the cake, only to finally lose his balance and topple face-first into the creamy pastry. ;-) OOC: A Happy Belated, Lord Panther. :-) Hope it went well.

A nice story so far, Cerberus. :-) I find the pro wrestling subject matter very interesting, and think that you do a good job of detailing Michael's motives and intentions. The pressure of performing that Michael experiences and the anger that results from it were both intriguing, and Jason was a nice means of revealing elements of Michael's dark past. I also liked how you left the story off right before the fight, as it seemed to give me a sense of Michael's pressure and anxiety. In terms of potential things to improve: I think that adding more specificity and detail to the lives of Michael and Jason would make the story much more interesting, as currently most of the elements of Michael's life are told directly to the reader and left a bit vague. I was very curious to learn more details about the violent incident in Michael's past, as well as more details pertaining to wrestling and his appearence as a wrestler. I also thought there was a bit of a tense problem at times, particularly in the third paragraph where the past tense is replaced by passive "would"s. I was also uncertain of what the black mirror in Michael's dream was meant to signify, though I assumed it was some sort of personification of his past. Anyway, thanks for sharing this Cerberus. :-) It's nice to see you writing here again.

So, after much patient contemplation, I've come up with a list of my ten favorite albums from 2005. Albums number 9 and number 10 are a bit more shakey than the rest and prone to change, but all of these albums really impressed me and come highly recommended. Of course, my musical tastes tend to differ from most people here at the Pen, but I hope my descriptions spark some curiousity amongst pennites if nothing else. Here it goes: 10) Boom Bap Project - "Reprogram" (Rhymesayers) Minneapolis' Rhymesayers Entertainment had quite a year in 2005. Their new distribution deal with Navarre led them to release 6 proper full length albums from talented underground artists, in addition to reissuing two older albums and putting out a ton of vinyl on the side. Boom Bap Project's album "Reprogram" marks one of their finest releases this year. The Seattle-based trio of Karim, Destro Destructo, and DJ Scene make solid, hard-hitting, traditional hip hop music. The real force behind the album is the production, as Seattle producers Jake One and Vitamin D provide some excellent, choppy "boom bap" production for Karim and Destro to rhyme over. This album is founded in the traditions of the hip hop genre and won't appeal to people looking for a brave new approach, but what Boom Bap Project does they do well. Also features an excellent guest appearence by Gift of Gab from Blackalicious. Solid stuff. 9) Lone Catalysts - "Good Music" (B.U.K.A) This album was a very pleasant surprise to me since I wasn't the biggest fan of the Lone Catalysts' first album. Rapper J. Sands and producer J. Rawls spent around five years recording tracks for this album, and it really shows in the strong and consistant selection of music. J. Sands and J. Rawls demonstrate excellent chemistry together throughout the album, and the positive and traditional hip hop vibes range from jazz and soul to reggae and funk. Particularly noteworthy is the track "Ones We Miss," which has J. Sands paying tribute to those who have passed away over an absolutely brilliant J. Rawls beat. At 19 tracks and over 72 minutes of music, the album is not free of filler, but a few poor tracks can be forgiven for the strength of the rest of the album. "Good Music" indeed. P-Love - "All Up in Your Mind" (Bully) Stepping away from traditional hip hop for a moment and moving into the field of downtempo electronica, P-Love's album surpasses other excellent instrumental albums of 2005 (ElekTro4, S.E.V.A, etc.) as some of the best downtempo music to be released this year. P-Love has become known as the turntablist for the jazz band Martin, Medeski and Wood, as well as the tour back-up for acclaimed acts like Amon Tobin and Kid Koala. His solo debut is a very quiet affair, driven mostly by keyboards, bass, and drums, but also incorporating a number of other instruments. The elegence of the album reaches it's peak at "Rockland County Dramatics - Allegro," a jaw-dropping track with a powerful mysterious atmosphere that ranks as one of my favorites of this year. Highly recommended, and essential to keyboard fanatics. 7) Dave Ghetto - "Love Life?" (Counterflow) A neo-soul type album that I'm actually feeling? Impossible! Dave Ghetto's full length has been a long time coming, with his first 12"s dropping in 2000, and it doesn't disappoint. Dave is an interesting M.C with a natural flow that never seems forced, comparable to a gruffer and ruder version of Mos Def. R'n'B singers such as Erik Rico, Yahzahrah and Cee-Lo Green all deliver hooks over the course of the album, but they come across as catchy rather than corny. The vibe of the album is very interesting, with a half-soulful and half-electronic feel that uses very little sampling. Vibes range from hype and club-worthy to smooth as butter, with plenty of excellent guest appearences throughout. Great stuff. 6) Fog - "10th Avenue Freakout" (Lex) Make no doubt about it: "10th Avenue Freakout" is an epic and fascinating journey through Andrew Broder (a.k.a Fog)'s imagination. I've noticed quite a few sources giving this album bad reviews, and there're certainly several things people could hate about it: off-kilter singing/croning, challenging musical approaches, and lyrics about paying one hundred bucks to hunt a wooley mammoth. The album is startlingly original and impossible to classify, falling more along the lines of lo-fi electronic folk music than anything hip hop-related. Andrew Broder's singing seems to border on the edge of mundanity, only to be saved on every track as he takes an interesting and unexpected approach. The album can be an exhausting listen, moving from electro-opera to hardcore avantguard jazz in the blink of an eye, but it never loses its appeal. Fans of Wilco's later work might enjoy this. Superb. 5) Daedelus - "Exquisite Corpse" (Mush) The atmosphere that this album gives off is breathtaking. Daedelus is a quirky Los Angeles hip hop producer known for his clever incorporations of 60s easy listening music in his tracks. "Exquisite Corpse" may be his finest accomplishment to date, as he really creates a heart-warming and magical feel for each of the tracks on it. Daedelus spans into a wide variety of genres and guests over the course of the album, including rappers such as MF DOOM and Lil' Sci, electronica wiz kids like Prefuse 73 and Jogger, and even rock singers like Laura Darling and Hrishikesh Hirway of TV on the Radio. What's amazing is that, despite the numerous guests that appear throughout, the album stays Daedelus' show and really demonstrates his own approach to music. Highly recommended. 4) Lab Waste - "Zwarte Achtegrond" (Temporary Whatever) This album is the soundtrack to your computer malfunctioning and going haywire with the speakers on full blast. Thavius Beck (a.k.a Adlib) and Giovanni Marks (a.k.a Subtitle) dismiss every common convention of hip hop to deliver this incredible piece of work. "Zwarte Achtegrond" (Dutch for "Black Background," though Achtegrond is missing an 'r') is just as rooted in hardcore IDM glitch music as it is in hip hop. Subtitle raps like a robot in a single monotone voice, which is often used with incredible flow and precision, and which compliments the electronic atmosphere of the album well. The futuristic world of Lab Waste is decidedly dark, and never fails to raise eyebrows. Hands down one of the most original and impressive albums of the year. 3) Qwel & Jackson Jones - "Dark Day" (Galapagos4) Qwel is an extremely talented Chicago-based M.C who has somehow never lived up to his full potential on his albums... until now. "Dark Day" finally shows off Qwel's skills at their finest, with the excellent musical backdrop of Jackson Jones acting as the foundation for Qwel's amazing flow and lyrics. How talented is Qwel? To give you an idea: the first track on the album is entitled "The Ladder Builder," and depicts the story of a man working on the Tower of Babel. The man despairs as he approaches the top, and commits suicide by jumping off, only to fall into a crowd of people at the bottom waiting in line for his job. Later on, the track "Vincent Van Gogh Coke Ad" contemplates whether Van Gogh would have used his ear in advertising, and details the impressions of a piece of graffiti depicting the Hiroshima bombings. As these descriptions and the title suggest, the album is very dark and melancholic, and not appropriate for every mood. Having said this, it's musically and poetically jaw-dropping. Art-hop at its very finest. 2) Dangerdoom - "The Mouse and the Mask" (Lex/Epitaph) This was one of the most hyped up hip hop releases of the year, and in all honesty, I thought it was going to be awful. The entire concept behind the album struck me as a major gimmick: get one of the most popular M.Cs in the underground (MF DOOM), one of the most popular producers in the underground (Dangermouse) and have them base an album around the T.V shows on Cartoon Network's [Adult Swim] segment, with cameos and voices from cartoon characters. It turns out that what could have just been an album of publicity for Cartoon Network was taken very seriously by all of the parties involved, resulting in one of the funnest and most entertaining albums of the year. I've never been a big fan of shows like "Aqua Teen Hunger Force," but hearing MF DOOM rap about them almost seems to put them in a better light. DOOM continues to bring some of the most absurd and comic lyrics and deliveries in the game, rhyming about how "Zorack used to rub his thorax in Borak" and really using the addition of cartoons to his advantage. Dangermouse backs him up with a number of excellent funky tracks, sampling the opening chords for "Kill Bill" amongst other things. Most surprisingly, the cameos from Space Ghost, Harvey Birdman, and Aqua Teen Hunger Force don't hinder the album at all... in fact, they actually add to the entertainment value! Even if you're not into cartoons at all, there's definitely a lot to appreciate on this upbeat album. A Saturday morning essential. 1) The Chicharones - "When Pigs Fly" (Camobear) Pen people that I've managed to hang out with in RL over the course of the last year already know about these guys, because I've been jocking them like crazy. The group consists of Vancouver M.C Josh Martinez and Seattle M.C Sleep, two of the most criminally slept-on forces in hip hop. Josh and Sleep personify melody and rhythm respectively, and produce party-oriented, stylistic hip hop that's funner than a barrel full of hot steaming bacon. The Chichis dismiss the entire notion of "street cred" in favor of not taking themselves seriously, and their full length album lives up to the high expectations I set for them. Some of the zaniest and most danceable hip hop you'll hear all year, with a huge dose of talent and style to spare. Did I mention that they base their moniker on a spicey, deep-fried pork rind dish? FIRE. Hear them for yourself: http://www.chicharones.com That wraps up my list... if there are any CDs other Pen people felt from 2005, be sure to mention them here. I love recommendations!

Wyvern fiddles with the two words, poking at the swooping 'w' with a curious claw. He scratches his scaly chin, then attempts to balance the "swooper" vertically on top of the "basher," hoping to form a cross stick through an intersection of the final 'r's. The lizard curses as the 'swooper' topples over, narrowly missing reverie and shattering into a messy pile of letters. Wyvern taps his foot for moment and frowns at the mess, then brightens up and begins digging through a sack of items at his side. The lizard pauses, then lets out a triumphant laugh as he pulls out Ye Ole' Almost Dragonic Brand Poetry Blender™ from the depths of the half-cooked schemes within the bag. He crams "basher" into the blender, then gathers the letters of "swooper" and sprinkles them on top. The letter 'l' is added for a light flavor, and the "Generally Liquify" button is hit. The Cabaret Room crowds gape as Wyvern pulls out the resulting word and holds it up with a proud smirk. Blooper "What?" Wyvern grumbles at the blank stares of the audience. "Would you have prefered 'Slasher' or something?" ;-) OOC: On a side note, I'd probably fall along the lines of 80 percent Swooper/20 percent Basher, though I bash by paragraph rather than sentence. Those interested in similar discussions on writing should be sure to check out reverie's "Not so random thoughts" thread and Zadown's "Writer's Diary" in the Courtyard.

Wyvmettic Wyvern's claw remained motionless in the air as he continued to wait for the scheduled reaction. He failed to notice Kergillian and Chris M as they walked off, and didn't pay attention to the darkening skies as the hours slowly passed by. The overgrown lizard eventually snapped out of position when a cramp began crawling up his shoulderblade, and grumbled to himself as he stared at the Rooster wreck. "This better be good." Wyvern paused as he neared the ruins of the Wooden Rooster, and gently kicked at a fragment of wing. He waved a bit of dust away, then peered into cockpit beak. "What gives, guys? Ya don't know when to stop, and then when yer supposed to g-" Wyvern paused and gaped as the dust cleared. An empty cockpit. "Well." Wyvern tapped his foot on the ground a raised a claw to his chin. "I s'pose that'd explain the crash, and the lack of surprise... Hmmmm, knew I shouldnt've used that Almost Dragonic Brand Parttime Mercenary Job Search Engine™ in hiring. Doesn't have nearly enough horsepower to do the trick!" Wyvern kicked at the dislodged rear end of the bird vehicle, causing the giant engine to crack open. The mercenaries trapped within hopped off of their parttime workout treadmills and ran off from the area, into the night of the lands of RPG.net. Wyvern watched the pathetic excuses for joggers rush away, then thought for a moment before reaching towards the dirt with a claw. Having finished a sketch of directions, the lizard walked away, stepping over the makeshift map by accident and leaving a footprint in its place. OOC: This little piece of writing was made in honor of RPG.net, which was recently added to the List of Useful Links at the Mighty Pen. Have a good one, all.

Here is the second of the Pen parties hosted on other boards, entitled "The Great Wooden Rooster of Doodle Doo Heights." The event occured from 11/14/05 to 12/13/05 on the RPG.net forums, though it's status as a party is questionable at best due to the lack of other participants. ;-) It's very short, but I thought I'd archive it here with the others. Wyvmettic The gigantic rooster flap of the vehicle seemed to eclipse the Sun as it passed down the hilly trails, grinding in a loud roar that could only be attributed to its poorly fabricated claw-marked wheels. The beak of the huge wooden bird jutted majestically from its head frame, reminiscent of a petrified gryphon after a few "rampant growth" incantations. Its studded wooden breastplate was engraved with a jagged and near-illegible 'R,' and its wooden feathers creaking dangerously with every road bump. In front of the Great Rooster, a cloaked figure with a shepherd's staff paced in long strides, his snout tilted towards the ground in the hopes of obscuring his face. Not even the multiple dark layers of cloth were enough to hide the figures tail, however, and the crimson scales and scorpion stinger that dragged behind him were a dead giveaway of his looks. The cloaked figure tilted his head up and sniffed at the air for a moment, then snapped a claw and turned towards the approaching rooster. He let out a soft whistle, then stamped his staff twice on the ground before him. The rooster continued approaching, its grind growing louder and louder. The figure frowned and stamped his staff on the ground again, then twice again, harder. He let out loud piercing whistles as the Great Rooster continued in its path, alerting the attention of Kergillian and Chris M, who happened to be hiking in the area. "Waaaaiiiiiiiitttttt!" cried the figure, jumping up and down and frantically waving his arms left and right as the rooster grinded closer still. The hood of the figure's cloak flew off, revealing the unmistakable horns and snout of a Wyvern. "Ssssttttttoooooooooooooooopppppppp!!! Yoooouuuu'rrrrre gonnnnnna-" Kergillian and Chris M both cringed as the overgrown lizard's tail got stuck underneath the wheel. The gigantic rooster continued in it's relentless course, rolling straight over the Wyvern without so much as pausing for his bloodcurdling screams. It experienced a large bump as it passed over the reptilianoid in full, wobbling from side to side as its "great wings" collapsed from its unsturdy structure. Upon reaching a halt, an almost inaudible vinyl recording of a rooster crowing crackled from the beak of the great vehicle, defeathered and shameless in its wooden "glory." "Errrrk." Wyvern twitched from his flattened position on the ground, and managing to dis-embedden one of his claws from the pavement. He slowly stood up, his face twisted and ugly with bruises, his cloak and scaly hide marked with wheel treads and claw punctures The overgrown lizard wobbled towards Kergillian with uneasy steps, extending a claw and flashing a grin of loose teeth. "Greetingssss, noble wanderers of the land where RPG is sacred." Wyvern coughed and reached through his pockets, then took out a piece of scrap paper and handed it to Kergillian and Chris M. They observed the illegible handwriting with a frown, barely making out the letters "Tok-" before doodles of money bags obscured any meaning that may have once been there. "She told me 'bout it." Wyvern remarked, pointing at the paper. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a flattened gift box, then kneeled before the two wanderers and presented them with the package. "Pleassssssssse accept this cheap-yet-charmingly-novelty-oriented gift." "Almost Dragonic Brand Doodle Dungeon Sketchy RPG™...?" Chris M shook the box with a frown. "Ssssstraight from the Doodle Doo Heights!" Wyvern flashed a crooked grin of jagged teeth and a scaly thumbs up. "The only Rooster Playing Game that requires no artistic skills or experience, just lets you doodle away with whatever spare feather you can muster! And there'ssss more." Wyvern waved a claw to the parked Wooden Rooster just as one of its wheels burst loose... ;-)

Fear Myrna clutched at the thin slip of paper and stared. She dug her other hand into her half-formal dress and took out a make-up box, not paying attention to the color of the street light as she opened it with a flick. She glanced at the tiny mirror and saw another person there, one wearing a mismatching T-shirt and dress, her eyes the color of the slip in her hand. She wondered if all ex-presidents felt this way: lost, helpless, stranded in the absence of their fathers. When he had handed her the job, she had never thought twice of being priveleged. But the slip, a collective decision... you're no longer our- The blare of a car horn caused Myrna to jump, and she began walking faster, pretending to ignore the thick cursing of the New York cab driver. Was she a retarded whore? The light was red, her sight was blurred, the crowds made her dizzy. She would have to make a phone call, she would have to pray for a soft voice at the other end of the line. The thought of starting over at a place she'd never seen before made her choke. Actually, decision has been reached She shoved her way through the Times Square crowds with aimless strides like a lost seven year-old girl. Everyone seemed to have a direction but her. you're no longer our president Myrna fumbled through her keys, unable to recognize the one for her apartment. She filed through the chain faster with every failed match, cramming the shapes of the keys to force them into the holes. Then, a deep voice made her freeze. "Myrna Crebomble?" Myrna clutched at her key chain with all her might, feeling the different metal edges as they dug into her skin. She breathed deeply, staring at the ground, knowing the tone without recognizing the voice. "John Calwright." The man lifted a badge. Myrna felt his eyes piercing her without looking into them. "NYPD." Next word: Indifference

Nice story, Zadown. :-) I really liked the inclusion of Marchello, as his reactions to the Dreamer and the shift of planes were well-depicted and very interesting to read. The arrival of Palgrave Atyaer Ra Jahl was also a very interesting twist to the story, and seeing the Dreamer act in a complacent and humble manner towards the Elder Herald of Law was an intriguing change of pace. I also liked the numerous references to prophetic planewalker history that were spread throughout the story, and am curious to see how the Dreamer will use the final sliver of Blue Flame in his possession. I thought that, while the initial dialogues between the Dreamer and Faaye relayed a great deal of excellent planar backstory, they dragged a little due to a lack of any urgent conflict or event. I think that if Marchello's kidnapping were to occur at the beginning of the story rather than after this initial dialogue, it would add more urgency and grab the reader from the get-go. Also, while I really liked the presence of Marchello in the story, I was uncertain of the purpose he fufilled for the Dreamer. Was he a means of testing a mortal mage's reaction to a shift in planes in the Dreamer's pursuit of knowledge? Well done story, as always. :-) I'm looking forward to reading your next ones.