Wyvern

Last time, on Dawgrim’s Reek… *Cue the image of a row of distinctly feline and feminine legs kicking upwards in a perfected cheerleading routine.* With the Jock falling apart over Dawgrim’s superior manliness, and Gobulard academics having never mattered in the first place, little stands in the way between our hero and his fated hot date to be. *Cue the image of a row of distinctly feline and feminine arms raising upwards in an enthusiastic cheerleading routine.* But with Triska challenging Dawgrim to bring his A+-game to the table, and Evil Orcy looming on the horizon, will the Academy’s resident hunk be able to live up to pro cheerleader expectations? *Cue the image of a row of distinctly feline and feminine tailed rears shaking in a suggestive cheerleading routine.* Will Dawgrim be able to woo Triska into purring for more? WILL he be able to achieve that crown that accompanies the Home Hogswill Queen tiara? *Cue the image of a still pool of mud, which ripples as a tail stinger slowly surfaces from its depths. The tail stinger lingers there for a moment before plopping back down.* … will he even show up? Find out now, on Dawgrim’s Reek. --- The soap opera cameras flicker on to a Pen hall located between the Assembly Room and the Cabaret. The hall in question has been decked out with rectangular cardboard boxes with the words “Goblyn Loker” written over them, and the rug has been removed for an unpolished school hall floor look. The occasional doodle can be seen etched into the side of the “lockers,” including a stick figure of Dawgrim in a dunce cap signed “E.O.” The cameras pan over to the soap box that Dawgrim stands on, but the Gobulard Academy hunk is promptly obscured by the obnoxious lettering of the show’s title. Dawgrim’s Reek Sponsored by Almost Dragonic Brand Geld-Scented CheerMynx Doll Spray™ Dawgrim waves his claw until the title slides off of the screen in an exceptionally cheap use of special effects, revealing this episode’s semi-heroic fashion statement. A kazoo blows the jazziest notes it can muster in the background as Dawgrim spins a comb in claw before brushing it through his hair, showing off his bare chest of painted scales and the “I Heart Triska” sticky notes stuck to his wrists. With the words “Triska, Wanna Date?” painted in white over strategic scales and the rest of his chest shining in an odd reflective red, it was obvious that the goblizard had taken Triska’s cheerleading challenge a little too seriously. A belt buckle clipped in place by a metallic heart with “D/T XXX” written on it holds the lizard’s low-hanging jeans in place, and a CheerMynx doll with its hair dyed black sticks out from one of his pockets. Dawgrim breathes the most nonchalant sigh he can muster as he picks up a cardboard megaphone. “Trisss *ahem* Triska B’Shell for Hogswill Homecoming Queen!” Wyvern holds up paper flyers with pictures of Triska’s tease stretch from episode 3. “Give Trissska that preemptive vote now, tell’er Dawgrim sssent ya.” Dawgrim pauses his campaigning as Gurt enters stage left, his brown hobgoblin outfit identical to the one he wore on the first episode of the show. The troglyodyte clears his throat and puts on a pair of shades, reading the script written on the back of the visors one syllable at a time. “Dawgrim. It has been a while has int it? I just wanted to tell you that I got an A grade on my mid term in raiding mathematics.” A loud kazoo sound effect cues up in the background, meant to add to the dramatic effect of an important revelation. “Oh. And also. I have been sleeping around, with Lemn who was once your girl on the side.” “You got an A on your raiding math midterm?!” Dawgrim stares at Gurt with an exaggerated expression of shock, only to turn his head as Evil Orcy suddenly enters stage right. “Oh great… what’re you doing here? Can’t you sssee we’re in the middle of a non-evil conversation?” “The matters of Gobulard clowns in make-up are of no importance to me!” Evil Orcy tosses his black cape back and lets out a dastardly laugh, pointing a finger at Dawgrim. “Besides, I too have something to reveal to you nitwits.” Evil Orcy reaches for his mustache, as if to stroke it, only to suddenly pull it off and toss it to the floor. The dramatic effect kazoo noise cues up in the background again. “My real name is not Evil Orcy. It’s Blarr. That’s right, Blarr… Gurt’s brother’s girlfriend-of-a-friend’s roommate! And I made out with Rassa, Gurt’s brother’s girlfriend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend, just yesterday.” Blarr lets out a cackle as Gurt drops to his knees in despair. “Also, I contributed to this week’s script. Just thought I’d mention it here since it’s not listed in the end credits *ahem.*” Both Dawgrim and Gurt stare at the troglyodyte playing Blarr with angered expressions for his break in character, which makes for an awkward silence until Gurt goes back to the scene and raises his arms to the sky. “Noooooooo.” The kazoos playing dramatically in the background to little to add to the emotion of Gurt’s lines. “Noooooo.” “Sssso neither of you wanna vote preemptively?” Dawgrim waves a flyer in the direction of the two actors, who are consumed in phony despair and phony mirth respectively. The Academy hunk grumbles to himself and lifts the script to his snout, having lost his place due to the break in scene. “Well, if neither of you are gonna vote, then I too will make a sssstartling announcement. I, Dawgrim, am officially coming out of the closss-“ Dawgrim stops mid-syllable as the dramatic revelation kazoo sound plays out in the background without him. He re-reads the piece of script thoroughly before turning his furious eyes towards Blarr, who is giggling to himself uncontrollably…

Wyvern grunts and rubs a claw over his aching head, brushing a few of the scattered wreath leaves from his scales and blinking at the pile of books and folders in front of him. The overgrown lizard grumbles and stretches one of his wings, shifting himself upright as he assumes for a moment that he'd once again fallen asleep in the midst of evaluating tax evasion techniques. He picks up the first folder in front of him and flips through it glumly, only to slowly go wide-eyed as the pages act like a flip book for the design of a rather revealing 40 piece dance outfit. Wyvern snaps the folder shut and tosses it aside, immediately picking up the next book within reach, which is entitled "Leg-Oh!s: Pant Designing for Dolls (and Manufactured Dolls)." He glances over the cover curiously before noticing the striped leg that the removal of the book has uncovered, his eyes growing wider still over the newfound fur. The overgrown lizard's tongue rolls loose as he suddenly recalls the current situation, his joints stiffening up as he realizes that CheerMynx is laying in front of him under the various books. The spread of notes and literature has fallen in a way that still covers any outfit that the Almost Intern might or might not be wearing, leaving Wyvern's curiousity bubbling at its peak. "Ow." CheerMynx's moan catches Wyvern's attention as the Almost Intern's arms surface from a couple of books on gloves, immediately moving to her hair as her pretty nose twitches. "Like, Wyvie? Could you help me out of here?" Wyvern slowly nods, his eyes going cross-eyed for a moment over the bulging stack of notes that seemed to have landed around CheerMynx's chest... though something told him that the shape had little to do with paper. The reptilian reporter stifles a giddy cheer as the prospect of helping CheerMynx free herself and uncovering her outfit (or lack thereof) firsthand dawns upon him. He flashes a toothy grin and nods vigorously to CheerMynx's request, ignoring the distressed cries of the troglyodytes in charge of rejected objects in the background. "Oh, definitely yessss!" Wyvern clears his throat and licks his lips, trying to keep his calm as he speaks. "*ahem* That is, r-r-right away CheerMynxie. It'sss my duty after all." Wyvern bites his lip in anticipation as he reaches for the next book within reach, sliding it off and revealing a generous amount of furred thigh with still not even the remotest sign of an outfit to be found. He verges on sobbing with joy as he moves his claws further up the mess to a set of empty folders on "Pantie Designs," his imagination running wild as he slowly begins tilting it up to see if... "Look ooouuuuuttt!" Wyvern jerks his head in the direction of the cry just as the avalanche of rejected chairs and booze bottles comes tumbling down upon him, burying the lizard while his position ends up effectively preventing CheerMynx from any harm...

Yesterday, I saw P.O.S do a free in-store performance at Amoeba Records in Berkeley. P.O.S's "Never Better" tour passed through San Francisco as recently as two months ago, so it hadn't been too long since I'd last seen him perform, but it's always great to catch him live and this was no exception! Granted, it was far from the best set that I've seen from him, and it was much shorter than usual due to the free in-store nature of it all, but he still took the atmosphere of the crowd and vibed with it in a very down-to-earth and personal manner. He did a lot of chatting between tracks, and focused on the less energetic and more lyrical tracks of his catalog to get the audience involved (though "The Basics (Alright)" and "Drumroll" were performed from his hype repertoire). There was a nice turn out of P.O.S fans, which was cool since Amoeba in-stores have occasionally only had a few people in the audience, and it ended up being good times all around. Catch this guy in your area if you have the chance, he's currently on tour with Atmosphere through North America.

The news cameras slowly fade into the familiar vibrant colors and accessories of CheerMynx’s bedroom HQ. The Almost Intern’s quarters have been cleaned up considerably since last week’s almost a test of almost a test report, with only a few stray items standing out as oddities. An Almost Dragonic Brand Viking Recliner™ rests on the end of the room opposite CheerMynx’s bed, its comfortable-looking grey cushions and pillowed armrests desperately trying to hide the wooden catapult base of the chair. On a small counter next to the chair is a tidy arrangement of three combs, consisting of an Almost Dragonic Brand Leftover Scimitar Hair Curler™, an Almost Dragonic Brand Stripe-Enhancing Fairy Fur-Paint Brush™ and an Almost Dragonic Brand Hairball Removal Tongue Comb.™ Various shades of orange fur conditioner are sorted on a rack next to the combs, and a hot pink bottle of Bruteweiser Special Volcanic Mix rests on a night stand adjacent to CheerMynx’s bed. The rest of the room looks exceptionally clean and well-arranged, with the exception of the enormous pile of rejected chairs, combs, and empty booze bottles lazily crammed into the far right-hand corner of the room. “Greetingsss, welcome to the Almost (not a test) Report.” Wyvern hisses as he rolls out from under the Almost Dragonic Brand Viking Recliner™, nearly setting off one of the chair’s more barbaric functions with his tail stinger. “55% more Almossst Intern friendly this episssode and fully prepared for CheerMynx’s return. None of this has been tesssted, of course, or even almost tested for that matter, but I figure my almost dragonic intuition has served me well in the past and there’ssss no reason it shouldn’t sssserve me well now… right?” Wyvern strikes a nervous grin as the bottle of Bruteweiser Special Volcanic Mix begins trembling on its night stand, fizzing at the tip on its own despite being corked. The reptilian reporter raises a claw to the wreaths of leaves tied around his horns as he scampers over to the bottle to fix the problem, sticking his tongue out to not let any of the alcoholic fizz go to waste. The gray roman masseuse toga that Wyvern wears gets dribbled upon in the process, the potency of the Bruteweiser beverage eating through a bit of the delicate fabric and ruining some of the curving hand designs that wrap around the edges of the garment. “Anyhow *slurp,* in current Pen news-” Wyvern cringes as a few of the rejected CheerMynx-friendly objects topple over with a clatter, the tall stack wobbling uneasily. “Err, in current Pen news-” Wyvern’s eyes dart over to the Almost Dragonic Brand Viking Recliner™ as the twanging sound of springs popping loose is heard. He stammers as the fairy tied to the Almost Dragonic Brand Stripe-Enhancing Fairy Fur-Paint Brush™ works its way out of the rubber bands keeping it down. He turns to capture it, only to be distracted by the shouts of the troglyodytes trying to keep the teetering stack of rejected objects upright. “Errr, in current Pen newssss. Happy belated birthday Kasmandre, by the way. In current Pen newsss…” Wyvern flinches and raises his claws defensively as the cork of the Bruteweiser Special Volcanic Mix finally pops off. It hits the ceiling as the alcohol begins frothing forth onto the counter. “Uhhh…” Wyvern narrowly avoids being clobbered by the escaped fairy, who has somehow managed to pick up the Almost Dragonic Brand Leftover Scimitar Hair Curler™ and put it to violent use. The fairy crash lands as the weight of the scimitar proves to be too much for its tiny body, and it skids across the floor before tumbling under CheerMynx’s bed. Wyvern shakes his eyes away from the carnage and sets about thinking up excuses, not noticing the familiar figure standing at the door.

Very interesting story, Face. :-) I like how it starts with Burt's perspective, firmly grounded in the shame and horrors of the past, only to reveal that the war in question is WWIII when we get the more youthful perspective of the second post. One thing that I think you do exceptionally well in this story is to really draw the reader into the thoughts and feelings of the respective characters, as the paragraphs detailing the characters' contemplations over people and events felt like convincing trains of thought. I also really like some of the details in the characters' lives, like the photo of Burt and his brethren brandishing different types of guns, and the political agenda of the piece seems like it could be relevant to today. In terms of possible things to improve upon in future revisions, the dialogue of the story didn't feel as realistic or smooth as the thoughts and feelings of the characters to me. The characters are saying some very interesting things when they talk, particularly in the exchanges of the second post, but at the same time the manner that they spoke to each other seemed a little awkward and strange... you might consider drawing out the conversation of the second post a bit, as to give the exchanges between the characters a slightly more natural feel. Good story Face, thanks for sharing it with us here. :-) Welcome to the Mighty Pen by the way!

Nice re-telling of Rumpelstiltskin (or however you spell it) Kikuyu... taking an old folk tale and placing it into a new setting is a nice source of inspiration and a cool concept for a story. :-) I like how you depict the interactions between Ling and Rum Pi Shinta, as well as the way that the clothes are for protecting soldiers rather than making gold from hay. If I had to make one complaint, it would be that "Rum Pi Shinta" follows the original story of Rumpelstiltskin very closely and I feel like there could be more room for creative twists and interpretations (as long as the original story is credited, of course). Also, I was curious about what the oni Rum Pi Shinta looked like in terms of physical appearance... though the details of his smells and sounds are very well done, and perhaps the vagueness of physical detail has to do with him appearing different ways to different people. Anyway, cool piece o' prose Kikuyu. Thanks for sharing it here.

A wave of static crosses over the screen before a tri-colored “stand-by” frame kicks in, buying time while a faint high-pitched sound drones away in the background. Another bout of static flashes over the screen before the news cameras flicker on in black and white “recovery” mode, with a little timer flashing seconds in the lower right-hand corner of the lens. The cameras focus on the blacks and whites of what could very well be CheerMynx’s bedroom HQ, though the lack of bright colors and clutter of odd objects put the location into question. Various models of reclining chairs and lounging mats surround a bed covered in different bags of catnip and thick yarn sweaters, along with a couple of sparkler pompoms and a tail bow or two. On the night-counter next to the bed is a selection of shot-glasses filled with different shades of liquid, most probably alcoholic given the rectangular shapes of the label-less bottles next to them. The cameras pan over a section of Almost Dragonic Brand Products in the corner, consisting mostly of different styles of combs, before turning to the sound of Wyvern’s voice. “YAAARRRGH!” Wyvern flies through the air and crashes straight into the cameras, resulting in another bout of static and another tri-color “stand-by” screen. A little off-key kazoo plays elevator music in the background until the screen has been restored, once again in black and white with a timer. Wyvern taps on one of the camera lenses, adjusting his horn-accomodating hardhat and hissing at it to make sure the sound’s working. “Tessssting. 1, 2, 4, 3.” Wyvern backs away from the cameras, revealing his crash test dummy bodysuit and tin wing collision shields. While hardly a combo worthy of an official Almost Report, the outfit more than serves its purpose for almost a test of an almost test report. “Right, we need to work on that ‘catapult’ function on the Almost Dragonic Brand Viking Recliner.™ As it ssstands, it ain’t gonna make for a very relaxing grooming chair that's for sure. Lil’ behind ssschedule here, where’re the fur softenersss at? Oh! Mark down, for Aardvark’s birthday – stone cupcake shower from Almost Dragonic Brand Viking Recliners™, brutal and direct (+15).” Several troglyodytes decked out in lab coats trail behind Wyvern as he yammers on, jotting down notes frantically on their tiny pads. Wyvern wobbles his way over to the test shot glass counter as he speaks, still a little dazed over his crash landing and trying to maintain his composure. “If we’re gonna tessst this almost a test Report, we’re gonna need to work on the ssspeed of the furniture positioning… hop to! Oh, and for Gwaihir’s belated birthday, we’re gonna also need some kinda wiggly cabbage in a prominent position.” Wyvern taps his tail stinger on the floor and downs a shot of one of the darker shaded liquids. “Though then again, we could jussst speed test a couple of wiggly cabbage coats (leafs?) of arms instead to sssatisfy Valdar’s longing for shiny birthday trinkets. Decisionssss, decisionssss…” Wyvern scoops up a shot glass in each claw and downs both of the liquids simultaneously, his eyes spinning for a moment as the combination proves to be potent. A kitten minion dangling from the overgrown lizard’s crash test dummy utility belt mewls unhappily and writhes about, attempting to scratch off the “test kitten” tag attached to its ear. “Let’sss seee, what else can we add to this tessst Report to increassse the chance of cheerline appeal? Sssome kinda poetic opener might be in order in honor o’ Mira’s birthday… a limerick for Almost Dragonic Brand Hairball Removal Tongue Combs™ perhapssss?” Wyvern snatches up a bottle of one of the darker liquids to put it to a more thorough guzzling test. “Freya B and purple shadows alssso deserve some Pen birthday propsss, we should run some tesssts against their respective repertoires. And hey, could we get sssome color in the monitorsss pleassse? Time to put thisss set-up to the almost test. “ The screen flickers for a moment before the extremely bright and jarring colors of the room and Wyvern’s neon yellow dummy suit flash into focus, the color contrast temporarily blinding most viewers…

“Shhhy?” Wyvern huffs and sticks his chin up, clearly a little jealous over the familiar bond that’s developed between CheerMynx and “Elvy”… or perhaps peeved over the tone of Jim’s voice and wanting to show-off his manliness. The overgrown lizard reaches down and attempts to toss his shirt off in an over-enthusiastic fling, accidentally ripping the torn fabric completely in half in the process. The halves of the pricey flannel shirt flop fashionlessly to the ground. “I’ll give you shy! Jussst get thossse paintbrushes ready and try to keep up with me here.” Wyvern curves his wings and poses by puffing up his chest as much as he can, oblivious to Jim’s complaints about not holding still. He smirks as he reaches down for his belt buckle, and fiddles with it a second before realizing the full affect that CheerMynx’s ensemble has had on him and the general region of his pants. Wyvern starts hesitating again, growing redder by the second over the awkward timing of it all... plus CheerMynx’s breast line wasn’t helping the lizard concentrate any either. “Errr, a-actually, th-thisss might not be the besssst time y’know? I mean, m-maybe we could…” “Please darling, perhaps giving us a bit of space would be a good idea for now.” Elvanus waves off CheerMynx with the kindest of gestures. “I’ll just finish the sketching here and then join you to discuss the wardrobe in a bit.” “H-hey, w-wait a minute.” Wyvern’s eyes remain glued on CheerMynx as she begins wandering off, a drop of blood falling from his snout as he watches the way her pants-suit clings to her rear. “I uuuhh, I w-wasssn’t finished looking at that.” “Mr. Wyvern.” Darla taps her fingers over her sketch pad. “We would appreciate it if you would just-” “I’m tellin’ you, thissss ain’t the bessst time!” Wyvern speaks in a half-hushed tone, lowering his claws defensively over the front of his pants as he casts a final glance over in CheerMynx’s direction. “C-can’t we jussst reschedule for a studio sessssion or somethin'? I mean, the cameras’re still rolling.” Elvanus opens his mouth to respond, only to freeze with a confused expression on his face as the April Fool’s cerbihuahua attached to Wyvern’s tail slowly transforms back into its original kitten minion form. The formerly enchanted kitten shakes its head a little before mewling and wandering off in search of some warm milk. “Oh great. Just great!” Jim tears at his hair and sweeps the sketches of Wyvern’s tail stinger from his table, cursing all the while. “I better be getting paid overtime for this.”

The news cameras slowly fade in to CheerMynx’s bedroom HQ, which has been decorated with framed pictures of different pennites accompanied by descriptive placards that list that pennite's notable commentaries. The pictures are surrounded by unveiled velvet curtains, and the occasional bronze or silver medal is tacked adjacent to the placards. A red carpet stretches around the room in a square formation, leading one along the display of pennite accomplishments. A series of prosthetic limbs have also been mounted to act as directional arrows for the exhibit. “Hung too high. Hung too low. Hung too crooked. Too long a placard. Too expenssssive a medal (here, lemme take that).” Wyvern lifts his snout from his check-sheet as he spots the cameras, ignoring the growls of the cerbihuahua that continues to cling to his tail stinger. The overgrown lizard slides his little sheet and new medal into the front pocket of his long-sleeved flannel shirt, which would have fallen into the “formal” category had it not been for the variety of three-headed dog-related tears and open scale scratches across its fabric. The reptilian reporter’s tan breeches are also riddled with teeth markings, and his borrowed pair of black suede shoes squish with the wet sound of dog drool as he walks. Wyvern clears his throat and adjusts his velvet bow tie, the one item untainted by CheerMynx’s April Fool’s gift, before clapping his claws at the cameras. “Greetingsss, and welcome to a ssspecial critical feedback appreciation episode of the Almost Report.” Wyvern grins and waves his claws around at the different pictures, ripping an open shirt tear near his armpit in the process. “Join usss as we honor various pennites who have provided us with ample feedback over the years, all while critiquing their different approa-“ “Wyvern Q. Almostdragon?” Wyvern pauses and turns at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. He raises a brow as he finds three high-elves dressed in green hiking gear and carrying an array of art equipment under their arms standing behind him. The black-bearded leader of the group clears his throat, then marches forward and grabs one of Wyvern’s claws, shaking it vigorously. “Elvanus Mirweather. These are my associates, Darla Shesburrough and Jim Valleyprod. We’re here representing Brimwood Toys & Arrows, on account of a new line of Almost Report action figures we’ve been commissioned to design.” Elvanus hands Wyvern his card. “We were wondering if you’d mind taking a moment to let us sketch you for the Wyvern figure still in development?” “Errrr…” Wyvern glances down at the card, then at the cameras and confused troglyodytes, then back at the card again. “I uhhh, I guess… I mean…” “Great!” Elvanus pulls back as Darla and Jim set up their art equipment, squaring his hands to get a frame of Wyvern’s face. “Please, continue.” “O-O.K.” Wyvern nervously brushes his claws down his shirt, accidentally widening some of its holes in the process. “Uhhh, ssso critical feedback. Yeeeaaah. First off, I’d like to wish a belated happy birthday to reverie, who has supplied the Pen with a great deal of-“ “Mr. Wyvern, sir?” Jim Valleyprod lowers his sketchpad for a moment and stares at the lizard while tapping his quill. “If you could please refrain from any type of movement while you’re reporting, it would really help us capture a good impression of you.” “Oh, errrr, right…” Wyvern freezes himself in an upright, macho-style position. He glances at the cameras without turning his head, and takes a deep breath before continuing. “Well *ahem* we alssso wanted to point out that Katzaniel has a feedback sign-up sheet in the Critic’s Corner. Which is great for, y’know… feedback.” . Wyvern pauses and strains his eyes to try to get a glance at the pictures that the different high-elves are drawing, with no luck. “Ssssay, outta curiousity… what do you folksss do with rejected action figure limbs? I just asssk cus I’m trying to get my friend Tanuchan a belated birthday gift, and all my spare prosthetic limbs are being used as directional arrows at the moment.” “We generally recycle them and use them for new figures.” Darla speaks in a somewhat cold and calculated tone, though a hint of curiousity seems to flicker in her eyes. “Would you remove your shirt, please?” “Oh, ssssure.” Wyvern begins to tug his shirt off, only to suddenly pause and go a deeper shade of crimson. “W-w-w-wait, w-what?” “Your shirt.” Jim rolls his eyes and taps his quill on a fresh sheet of parchment impatiently, waiting for the lizard to comply. “And your pants. We’ll need them removed so we can get a sketch of you unclothed for the figure.” “B-b-but…” Wyvern hesitates and almost slinks back a little before remembering the important of standing still, growing steadily redder over the prospect of undressing. It was bad enough having Darla and the others observing him, but CheerMynx was bound to arrive at any moment, giggles and all. The reptilian reporter gulped and tugged at his shirt collar, tearing it off in the process. “Ummm… j-j-jussst g-gimme a minute, m-maybe?”

“I think…” Wyvern’s eyes drift from his various gifts and fall back on the extra-smooth curves of CheerMynx’s jester suit, following the reflections of light as they dance their way across the tightness of her outfit. “… that I’m gonna have to brush up on my ‘sssslap stick’ humor a bit later.” CheerMynx raises a brow and places a paw on her red latexed hip, giggling a little as Wyvern’s eyes seem to follow the little taps of her fingers. “Like, what’re you talking about Wyvie? I mean waddaya think of the gifts silly!” “Oh, you mean thessse?” Wyvern lifts the two items, holding the action figure in one claw while the cerbihuahua clings from his other claw via its teeth. Though the excitement of the doll is lessened by the presence of the new three-headed mut gnawing on his scales, Wyvern never the less snaps back into a huge appreciative grin. “Love’em! Thanksss a bunch CheerMynxie, you’re the best!” Wyvern moves in for a prolonged hug, his motive split between showing CheerMynx his appreciation and testing to see if her outfit really consisted of bodypaint or not. He curses as the newly acquired cerbihuahua somehow manages to wriggle its way into blocking any open signs of affection, growling all the while. Wyvern stares at CheerMynx with a look of longing that conveys his would-be affection, then decides to settle for the next best thing… “Well, I must say, they certainly did a great job desssigning this action figure. It’s quite a fine representation.” Wyvern brushes his snout against the doll’s fur, his tail curling slightly when he finds that it even carries a trace of the cheerline's scent… possibly from her carrying it around with her things, but intriguing never the less. “I can’t wait to take it to my room and undress- errr, I mean test the pose- uhhhhh… prrrractice Almost Report dialogue with it?” Wyvern strikes as innocent a grin as he can muster while trying to shake the new cerbihuahua away, preferably before it can get any slobber on the toy’s pristine fur...

Wyvern barges into the Critic's Corner and darts over to Katzaniel faster than you can say "oh my God, it's Wyvern and he's requesting feedback RUN!" The overgrown lizard grins and begins digging through his belt pouch as he skids to a halt, panting tiny smoke rings before turning to Katzaniel with a glimmer in his eyes. "Thankssss for the generous feedback offer, Katz! I could actually use some feedback on this." Wyvern pulls out a video tape and hands it to Katzaniel. "This is one episode of my weekly Almost Report, chosen randomly for your reviewing pleasure. Take a look see." Almost Report Episode 99 "Asss for the feedback rubric, I'd really appreciate if you could fill out this Almost Dragonic Brand Almost-a-Questionnaire™ on the subject." Wyvern hands a crumpled sheet of paper reeking of booze to Katzaniel, which reads: --- Almost Dragonic Brand Almost-a-Questionnaire™ Please read the following statements and rank them as "copper" (disagree somewhat), "silver" (neutral-ish), or "geld" (strongly agree) depending on your personal reactions to the program. 1) The sound quality of the Report was crystal clear. 2) The time of day that the Report was broadcast on was chosen well. 3) The lighting cues on the Report made it seem as though there were no lighting cues. 4) Wyvern looked incredibly handsome (note: only “silver” or “geld” options are available for this number) 5) The Almost Dragonic Brand Product placement effectively persuaded you to look into the items on sale. 6) The pennite’s quarters were properly abused. 7) The Report was not almost nearly inoffensive to Pen felines. The camera work on the Report focused on CheerMynx's finer assets enough. 9) The subliminal advertisements on the Report made it seem as though there were no subliminal advertisements. 10) CheerMynx looked sexier than ever. 11) The make-up artists did a good job with their incorporation of scale enlightening powder. 12) The news was reported in a biased and almost dragonic manner. 13) This Almost-a-Questionnaire makes you want to see the next Almost Report and/or donate your geld to Almost Dragonic Inc.

The news cameras fade in to a mounted display of several complex diagrams scribbled over wide sheets of construction paper, which rest next to a counter holding a variety of Almost Dragonic Brand novelty gag items. An Almost Dragonic Brand Electronic Woop E-Cushion™ is crammed next to an Almost Dragonic Brand Fake Superglue-Infused Mustache™ and a set of Almost Dragonic Brand Spoof S&M Handcuffs™ (with complimentary mini-whip). The cameras pan out a bit to reveal the locale of Cole and Mordekai’s Pen quarters - also rumored to be the Pen home of smallscale mind games. The duality of the living room chamber is immediately apparent in the split wall paper and furniture designs, with Mordekai’s classy choices of paintings and pottery conflicting with Cole’s extravagant dancing elf wallpaper on the opposite end. The position of the Report’s gag items and construction paper at the dividing line of the room almost makes it feel like another Almost Dragonic Product induced civil war… “Greetingssss. Welcome to the *grunt* Almost Report.” The cameras turn and follow Wyvern as he squeezes his way out of a wardrobe closet, the disappointed look on his snout suggesting that he didn’t find any of Elisa Cavalier’s clothes in there. The outfit that the overgrown lizard wears seems to compliment the duality of the room he’s broadcasting from, with his coat and hat best described as a cross between a protective lab suit and a jester’s outfit. The white coat pressed to his scales has been re-painted in messy strokes of purple and silver, and latex gloves with jester bells dangling from the fingers top both of the lizard’s horns. Wyvern runs a claw over his utility pouch belt and pulls out a portable microscope, examining it as he continues. “We’re reporting to you live from smallscale mind games’ quarters this evening in an exclusive look at some of the projectsss Almost Dragonic Inc. has in store for this April Fool’s.” Wyvern strikes a toothy grin and winks, spreading his claws as he approaches the various diagrams and gag counter. “We realize that knowing some of these jokesss before-hand kind of defeats the purpossse… but I guess you can just blame any spoilersss on vanity!” Wyvern grins and sticks his snout up with pride as he rubs a claw over his chest, basking in the thought of being the Pen’s top practical joker. The overgrown lizard sets about shuffling through the various gag items and pairing them with their appropriate diagrams, hissing all the while. “Lesssee here… for Tamaranis’ B-day we got a vial of curly onion cheese doodle sauce with red food coloring, though I think there may actually be some blood in the ingredients of the sauce as well.” Wyvern rolls the vial up in the scheming sheet associated with it and stuffs it into his pocket. “Then, we’ve got this used Almost Dragonic Brand Cardboard Anti-Paladin Shield™ which we’re gonna switch with Ordolar’s shield for a day, and a special brand of Gryphon Feather Ticklers ideal for tickling Gryphon’s feathers. Happy birthday wishes going out to the two of you, by the way.” Wyvern snickers at the thought of the reactions to his various joke traps, and digs back through his paperwork until he finds a slip of paper labeled “CM.” He snickers even louder and rubs his claws together, reading over the small sheet for accuracy. “Asss for CheerMynx, let’sss just say that pretending that the Almost Intern Fashion Fund is being withdrawn due to budgetary constraintsss should throw her for a loop. Unless Curious Mylo gets too curious and finds out about the joke beforehand, of course.” Wyvern twists his snout and taps his claws over the counter-top at the thought, his tail stinger digging into Mordekai’s rug. “Perhaps I should requessst Feedback from Katzaniel to help with the scheming? Couldn’t hurt I suppossse, hmmm…”

A visible sweat begins to break out over Dawgrim’s scales as he watches the cheerleaders giggle amongst themselves and perform, the enticing variety of tails and furs clearly giving him something to run laps over in his mind. Dawgrim tugs at the collar of his jersey as the heat continues to rise through the performance, the warmth building over his tail as Triska’s words echo through his head. So dazed is the goblin-like lizard by the performance that it takes him several minutes to realize that the source of heat is in fact coming from a tiny stick fireplace labeled “Gym Heater,” which his tail stinger is currently laying in. The reptilian actor lets out a shrill yelp of pain as he pulls his tail from the fire, blowing on it incessantly and dancing about until he realizes that Triska and her gang of feline firecrackers are no longer anywhere to be seen. The goblin hunk backs up in the hopes of spotting them off in the distance, only to trip over one of the fallen Jock troglyodytes and go tumbling wings-first into the mud pool. He breaths a sigh of relief as the cool mud douses out his tail burns, and stares up at the sky as the chanted words continue echoing through his mind. The overgrown lizard slowly sinks lower and lower into the mud, muttering the words to himself and trying to think up a proper response… --- Next time, on Dawgrim’s Reek… *cue dramatic brief flashes, showing different under-developed side characters in dramatic poses, all adjacent to a rather harried Dawgrim who is juggling different pieces of crumpled scripts in his claws* Gurt sleeping with Lemn! Myrda making out with Gobulard Academy sex ed instructor Ashur! Shara in an exclusive one night stand with Kaurley, while the Jock’s head watches! Cousins, uncles, long-lost relatives! All with Home Hogswill rapidly approaching. But, where does Evil Orcy fit into all of this? *cue camera angle from the back of Evil Orcy, facing Dawgrim. Evil Orcy reaches up and pulls off a mask, leaving Dawgrim with a genuinely confused and un-shocked expression on his snout* Dawgrim’s Reek ep. 5: “Reeking of Twists”

A Bruteweiser keg in the corner of the Cabaret Room slowly stirs, drawing the attention of the various birthday well-wishers. The moldy wooden boards of the keg creak under wing pressure until a set of horns pops out from the top, followed by a set of leery eyes and a familiar snout. Wyvern slowly glances left and right, half-nodding to Regel and Patrick before the familiar call of the "I <3 Wyvern Fan Club" is once again heard. "WWYYYYYYVVVVEEEEERRRRRRRNNN! COME OUT COME OUT WHEREVER YOOOOUUU AAAAARRRRRRREEE!" Wyvern lets out a tiny smoke ring hiccup as his eyes widen, the sounds of Kikuyu and Degorram approaching causing his wings to shrink behind his back. The overgrown lizard scrambles to fit himself back into the keg, only to tumble over inside it and cause it to fall and break. He gulps as Kikuyu and Degorram spot him, striking a nervous grin as he examines the mysterious package carried between their hands. "Wyvern! There you are, we've been loooking for yoooouuuu." "Eheheheh..." Wyvern raises a claw uneasily as he backs against a Cabaret wall, the reddish tint of his scales deepening as the twins approach with mischievous grins on their faces. He presses his wings back against a pen portrait as he notices the feathers that they carry, and glances at their package with a mixture of curiousity and trepidation. "Hi Kikuyu. Heya Dego. W-whatcha got there...?" Wyvern's tail curls up behind him as the girls grow closer, his eyes currently glued on the package... OOC: Thanks for your wishes everyone. And an extra-special thanks to Degorram and Kikuyu (and Zool!) for their creative wishes! I continue to appreciate all of you, year after year.

Last time, on Dawgrim’s Reek… “Blah blah blah his drumstick blah blah.” Goblin Sex Ed got even sexier when Dawgrim and Triska hit viewers with a live demonstration of some of the hottest Gobulard Academy mating rituals around “Blah blah her gravy blah. Blah blah blah.” But with Triska taunting Dawgrim about gym class, and the Jock ready to pound some goblin teeth in, will our hunk of a hero continue to strut his stuff? “Blah blah blah blah. Blah blah seasoning blah blah blah” And now, Dawgrim’s Reek returns… “Blah blah blah spices blah blah blah” … *ahem* Dawgrim’s Reek returns NOW. Really. A flash of static darts across the screen before the cameras tune in to a quiet area of the Pen’s courtyards… possibly a spot behind Gwaihir’s greenhouse, though the wide mud-wrestling arena/pool suggest an invasion of Tzimfemme’s stomping grounds. The mud in question carries no chocolate scent, however, and the crooked “Gym” sign that sticks from it’s surface threatens to sink into its depths at any time. A few feet away from the stretch of mud are a series of tall bushes in ornate pots, which stand adjacent to one of the less exotically painted walls of the Pen Keep. One of the Pen’s many towers looms off in the distance, but the area is decidedly secluded and removed from the more active areas of the Pen’s gardens. All in all, the back of the “Gobulard Academy Gym” grounds is a small step above the setting of the nature film that CheerMynx had nearly starred in. Dawgrim’s Reek Sponsored by Almost Dragonic Brand Chill-ish Pill Diets™ The cameras swerve to the left to move past the obnoxious font of the title that refuses to disappear, focusing in on Dawgrim as he emerges from behind one of the potted plants. The almost dragonic excuse for a goblin is looking dirty this episode in the manliest way possible, with dirt caked over his cheeks and elbows in a clearly manufactured make-up job. The backwards sports jersey that the goblin hunk wears is tattered with a “69” scrawled on the front, the “9” derived from a modified “7.” The sweat shorts that compliment the jersey are disturbingly short, with a large tail gap in the back and plenty of obvious gym socks stuffed in the front to relay the proper look. Sides of socks visibly dangle from the seats of Dawgrim’s shorts as he turns and stares off over the mudwrestling arena, his movement cuing up a tape overdub in the background. eugolaid ym ni elbissop sa yrotisopxe sa eb ot- Dawgrim frowns and raises a brow at the distorted variation of his voice that cues up. He waits several minutes, tapping his tail on the grass as the sound of a rewinding tape is heard in the distance. After the sounds of a few clicks, the overdub begins flowing in the right direction: This is the place, the spot where Triska and I have decided to meet after all the pesky class periods have ended. I can’t wait to brush my hands through her wig of hair, to get muddy with her, to be as expository as possible with my dialogue. Dawgrim nods to himself and wanders forward at his cue, starting to tug off his jersey in the hopes of taking a little dip in the mud. He’s interrupted, however, as the Jock’s ridiculously low voice echoes from behind a tall bush. “Well, well if it isn’t Dawgrim.” The two (or was it three?) troglyodytes playing the Jock wobble out from their hiding place, standing easily three feet taller than Dawgrim with their combination of stilts and piggyback positioning. The troglyodyte at the top of the towering figure playing the Jock’s face strikes a dumb grin as the troglyodyte hidden below him whispers his lines. The center troglyodyte slaps the Jock’s boxing glove fists together as he speaks. “I’m gonna beat you so badly, your comb will be sticking from your-” The Jock’s dialogue is interrupted as one of the troglyodytes trips, snapping a stilt and causing the rest of the actors playing him to collapse into a messy heap of unconscious underlings. Dawgrim frowns and scratches his wig as he watches the fall, then quickly digs out a script from his sweat shorts and reads it over. His frown deepens a bit when he fails to find the part where the Jock falls over in defeat, the sweat slowly beginning to form on his dirty forehead…

Wyvern carefully positions another geld piece on the piles organized over his oaken tabletop, licking his lips as he slides the coin ever-so-slowly over the top of the last piece without tilting the column at hand. The reptilian Elder reaches for another piece in the small sack at his side, only to curse as another tremor runs through his little dungeon, causing the stacks of geld to fall over and scatter for the one hundred and fifty seventh time. Wyvern grits his teeth and drums his claws over the wood of his table top till little indentations form, then slams a claw down and hops to his feet. "Alright, that doesssss it!" Wyvern storms over to his little cavern of a closet and begins tossing on mismatching variations of sweat pants and a smoking jacket. The overgrown lizard raises a claw to his snout as he struggles to fit his wings into the garment. “Aardvark, if that’s you playing with explosives again, I’ll have your hide!” Wyvern slams his door behind him as he exits his quarters, stomping down the hall and taking a few sharp turns before barging into the Cabaret Room. The overgrown lizard’s agitation is so great that he doesn’t even notice the shattered glass scattered across the floor, brushing it aside harmlessly with his tail as he makes his way to the front door. Stepping outdoors, Wyvern raises a clamped claw to the sky and loudly exclaims: “Hey, what’s the big deal with the racket?! Sssome of usss have important business to attend to here!” Wyvern pauses as he suddenly notices the lightning, the dragons, the undead treant minion, the soldiers, the destruction and the shadow of siege tanks. As if on cue, a meteorite crashes to the ground mere inches away from the lizard, narrowly avoiding his tail and leaving him with a frozen and bewildered expression. The action seems to pause for a moment as all eyes turn towards the almost dragon. “Errr… caaan I interessst anyone in an Almost Dragonic Brand Chill-ish Pill Diet™?” Wyvern digs through his robes until he pulls out a small Bruteweiser bottle filled with pills, his expression failing to change for the ad. The lizard holds up the bottle to the left and to the right with no reaction, then clears his throat and stuffs it back into his jacket. “No? Weeellllll, I guess I’ll just be leaving then, eheheheh...” Wyvern flashes a nervous grin and raises a claw as he slowly backs up in the direction of the Pen Keep’s entrance.

Wyvern’s lower lip trembles as he glances over the redeemed voucher, his scales drooping as he suddenly realizes that CheerMynx’s 100th episode dance may not have been as impulsive or whimsical as he’d thought. He glances back and forth between the voucher and the several inches missing from CheerMynx’s suit collar, then pauses to focus on the voucher in question and stammers. “B-b-but, I- I didn’t- the ssscript- there wasn’t- didn’t video- and Cerby-“ Wyvern raises a claw to try to make a little more sense to his still-dubious Almost Intern, but promptly gives up when he fails to find the words to adequately express his disappointment. Instead, the overgrown lizard huffs a sigh and hands the redeemed voucher to a troglyodyte on hand, whispering something into the underling’s ear before turning back to the cheerline with a slightly less despairing expression. “Th-then, I mean, how’d you get the sssscript?” “Oh, like there was this ‘Dawgrim’s Reek’ fan who was like, totally in the know y’know? And he had the script for the next episode beforehand, and I totally said I’d treat him to dinner if he let me peek at it. And then, on Valentine’s-“ “D-dinner?” Wyvern taps his tail nervously on the ground and rolls his eyes as he considers methods of hissing his way into a new voucher. He clears his throat and twists his snout in an attempt to avoid any overt jealousy. “V-Valentine’sss? Lisssten, wasn’t there some clause in the voucher that said that it could be re-used if the dance performance was interrupted? Like, sssay by a set of cerbihuahua teeth…?” CheerMynx raises a paw to her chin and considers, only to vigorously shake her head. “Nope, it was like a totally straightforward one dance voucher.” Wyvern grumbles to himself and stares down at the stacks of old scheme sheets gathered around his feet. He suddenly brightens up, however, as the troglyodyte who he’d given the redeemed voucher to returns with two sheets of paper. Wyvern grins broadly and pockets the old voucher as a memento of his crotch injury, then holds up the second sheet of paper with a devious look in his eyes. “Eheheheh… Well, it’sss a good thing I always keep a spare voucher on hand.” Wyvern barely manages to contain himself as he hands the new duplicate dance voucher to his Almost Intern. “Sssee?” “Hmm?” CheerMynx adjusts the glasses on her nose as she glances down at the new voucher. She frowns and stares at Wyvern with an apologetic expression as she hands it back to him. “Awww, I’m sorry Wyvie, but it looks like this one’s been redeemed as well.” Wyvern’s face goes blank as he notices the accuracy of the voucher duplicate, complete with the little pink “Redeemed” written in the corner. The overgrown lizard casts an angry glance at the troglyodyte he’d assigned the copying to, then tosses the voucher over his shoulder and wanders off to find a corner to sulk in.

Nice poem BPO, I definitely sympathize with its underlying tone and message... I feel a very similar way at times. I really like how the structure of the poem and the way that the lines follow each other kind of compliment the "Tempest of confusion" and mixed emotions of the poem, though the second half of the poem after the question mark didn't read quite as well to me without punctuation as the first half. It might be the line "In the extent of a man" that throws me off a bit... I really like it there, but wonder if there might be some way to punctuate that part of the poem to make it feel more natural. Anyway, thanks for sharing this poem here. Always good to read new stuff from you.

The news cameras tune in to a backdrop of pitch blackness, with only the ominous sounds of rustling paperwork giving some sense of the Report’s location in the background. The darkness is quickly lifted, however, as a webbed hand pulls the scrap of scheming paper from the camera lens to reveal a wide shot of Wyvern’s mess of a Recruiter’s Office. If anything, the reptilian Elder’s stomping grounds look even more cluttered and haphazard than usual for the broadcast, with papers of all shapes and sizes covering the floor and piling up in the occasional towering mound. The cameras shift through the paper in jerky motions until they arrive at a deep pool of smut magazines and “Geld Lover’s Anonymuse,” scanning the area for a certain almost dragonic reporter. A concerned murmer rises amongst troglyodytes in the background as Wyvern is nowhere to be found in his favorite Office recreational spot, but the sound of a mountain of old Pen applications collapsing alerts the news crew of the lizard’s presence before any show delay screens flash on. The camera crew moves through the slippery paperwork as quickly as possible to Wyvern’s location, picking up a number of dated sticky-note paper scraps along the way. “It’sssss gotta be here somewhere!” Wyvern digs through a few more papers before scratching his horns and lifting himself to his feet, the paperwork covering his scales complimenting the distraught expression written over his out-of-joint snout. Open outdated Pen newsletters spattered with red ink cover whatever clothes the overgrown lizard might have been wearing on his chest, with a collection of crumpled scheme sheets acting as shoulder and wing guards. A small number of the lizard’s abdomen scales are visible prior to the tightly woven entertainment mags that seem to make up his pants, including an explicit pin-up or two tagged over the reptilian reporter’s rear. The floppy sheets of paper stuck on Wyvern’s right horn complete a combo that gives the lizard the appearance of a Construction Paper Golem that’s past its prime. “Where could I have possssibly put it?” Wyvern tosses papers left and right and breaths a sigh, only to pause as he notices the news cameras. He lifts a claw to them without so much as attempting a sneer, setting right back to searching through the countless number of papers on the floor. “Welcome to the latesssst Almost Report and all that jazz.” Wyvern continues leafing through papers as he speaks, eyes still focused on his search at hand. The overgrown lizard hisses in frustration and sweeps his current stack aside, hopping to his feet and scrambling back over to his Recruiter’s desk. “Maybe I missssed it here? Can’t believe it’sss not turning up…” Wyvern digs through his desktop, clearing off the empty bottles of Bruteweiser and carefully moving his framed pictures of Yui and Mynx to the side before tearing through the stacks of paperwork that clutter it. The overgrown lizard opens one drawer after another in a mounting frantic-ness until a troglyodyte clears his throat in the background and points at the camera. “Oh, right, newsss.” Wyvern straightens his composure and flattens a few of the crumpled scheme sheets on his shoulders. He nods towards the cameras while continuing to sort through papers absent-mindedly. “In birthday newsss, a happy belated goesss out to Merelas, who celebrated last week and will be receiving a complimentary Almost Dragonic Brand Fire Out-of-Place™ in the mail. Hopefully, it’ll arrive before Snypiuer’s omen 28 weeks later.” Wyvern pauses to dig through his desk papers a bit more, and pulls out an entire drawer before turning back to the cameras with desperation in his beady eyes. “In more urgent Pen newsss, an emergency situation has arisen at the Almost Report as a preciousss piece of paper has gone missing” Wyvern takes a deep breath and taps his tail on the ground in the hopes of maintaining his composure, his lower lip trembling a bit. “The paper in quessstion was a voucher addressed from CheerMynx, which entitled me to one free cheer or dance from the Almost Intern herself. I believe the dance in quessstion was gonna be X-rated but then Mynx changed it to R-rated or sssomething along thossse lines. I think it was last seen before the chaos of the Almost Report’s 100th episssode, and has sssince gone missing. If anyone can find the voucher and return it to me, they’ll be handsssomely rewarded with an Almost Report plug, a share of the Almost Intern Fashion Fund, and possssibly a free cerbihuahua. Your help in the matter is greatly appreciated!” With that, Wyvern sets about considering which part of the Recruiter’s Office to search next, scratching his rear and accidentally tearing through some of the magazines covering it in the process.

Wyvern fidgets in his loving death grip, the red color slowly over-riding the blue as he strains to make out what sort of expression Kikuyu has in response to Dego's question. He fails to budge under Degorram's steady hand, however, and taps his tail nervously as he resigns himself to whatever fate might befall him... *More would be written here, but somehow, I feel like this should be drawn to a slightly open-ended conclusion. Let's leave a little to the reader's imagination, shall we? ;D Thanks for participating everyone, here's hoping there'll be plenty more events like this in the future (and that Ozymandias will continue to cover the property damage bill, of course).*

Wyvern bites his lip and glances back and forth nervously, his schemer brain in a spin over the sheer number of disasters and enticements needing to be dealt with at once. The overgrown lizard scratches an amulet of off one of his horns as he thinks, then raises a claw and answers: “Y-y-yeah, maybe…?” Wyvern freezes when he notices CheerMynx’s arched eyebrow and twisted nose reaction. He fumbles with the Kikuyu photographs and empty wallet in his claws, suddenly realizing what the Almost Intern might have been implying. “I-I mean no! That is you can ssstay… I think?” Wyvern’s eyes trail back over to Kikuyu, who seems none too pleased with the implication added on top of her various imp-related annoyances. The ninja presses the remains of her kunai closer to Wyvern’s throat, which fails to be much of a threat due to the edge removed from the imp bite. “Uhhh, Wyvern?” All three parties turn their heads to Slinky, who is wearing a mini blue apprentice mage cloak and has a worried look over his reptilian face. The troglyodyte make-up artist cocks a webbed thumb back in the direction of the imp cage. “This uhhh probably isn’t the best time to mention this, but it looks like Fleswarp the Shifter Imp of Many Shapes has also escaped from his confines…” “Oh great.” Wyvern grumbles and shuffles his way out of Kikuyu’s grasp with an apologetic smirk, continuing to pay little attention to CheerMynx’s attire much to the Almost Intern’s dismay. “Imp Alert Ultra-Violet! Ssseal the exitsss, ssscout the adjacent hallways and pennite quarters! These sorry excuses for mage familiars can’t be far.” With that, Wyvern wanders off while barking orders to various troglyodytes, oblivious to the carbon copy of Cerby wandering across the floor and heading towards the back exit.

The news cameras slowly adjust their lenses to adapt to the magical lighting of this week’s quarters, focusing in on the dark stones and mortar that make up the floor and walls of an archaic spell resource chamber. Fine oak tables and wide stone shelves display a large number of vials and pouches best left to professional sorcerer use, and a blue everlasting flame roars away within a fireplace that bears some resemblance to a meaner, yawning cousin of Wyvern. One of the quirkiest and most focused on elements of the chamber is the wide variety of tiny hanging cages, which dangle in clusters from ceiling hooks and each bear their own unique shape and size. The cameras move past a large empty iron cauldron and just barely make out the “property of cryptomancer” tag on a spell parchment before a claw pulls them in the opposite direction. “Greetingsss, and welcome to the Almost Report’sss latest sssponsored service: Almost Dragonic Brand Familiar-Finding for Magi!™” The cameras wobble back and forth for a moment before getting a clear shot of Wyvern, who is dressed in an ornate purple warlock cloak with different designs of wyverns looting geld doodled across it. Amulets with rubies made from crystallized sugar dot the lizards horns and wrists, giving him the look of a high magician with a serious sweet tooth. Wyvern grunts and pulls on his tail until he manages to gather up his stinger, which is weighted down by a large amount of paperwork that’s been pierced through it. The reptilian reporter flips through the documents found there idly before dropping his stinger back down with a resounding thud that sends a slight tremor through the chamber’s floor stones. He waits till his resulting grimace has passed, then turns back to the cameras with a forced half-grin. “Let’sss move right on to today’sss familiars shall we?” Wyvern turns with a toss of his cloak and a lug of his tail stinger, waving a claw over the tiny cages on display. “Ah, the faithful imp! The ssstaple of any fledgling magician’s arsssenal of familiars. Whether it be light or dark, broad or slinky, expensive or ultra-expensive, there are imps available for every type of spell-caster! Better get thossse crystal balls ready, cus’ the impsss we have on display for you today are gonna blow yer pointy little mage caps back.” Wyvern grins and strikes a claws-up to the cameras as “1-900-WYIMP” flashes across the screen three times in block red letters. He pulls out a spare candy ruby and gnaws on it for a moment, then gestures to the cameras as he approaches the first of many cages. “Take thisss fine specimen for example. Sneik the Lock Imp is a fine companion for any mage who uses illusions to get the thievery done. He’s great at picking those extra tough locks, and can pickpocket with the best of-” Wyvern pauses and frowns as he notices that the silver cage that previously held Sneik is empty, with the mini-gate open and the full proof lock missing. The overgrown lizard grunts and instinctively checks his pockets for any lost geld, then signals to a few troglyodytes on stand-by. “Sssearch the premises, Imp Alert Yellow.” Wyvern turns back to the cameras with a nervous grin and claps his claws together as the incantation number flashes by the screen again. “Eheheheh, sssorry about that folksss. Moving right along here, Zipfreed the Plain Walkin Imp is a familiar of the higher magical variety, with a price tag to match of course! His smarts are only complimented by his knowledge of over sixteen magical tomes, and his unmatched ability to planewalk and travel betwee-“ Wyvern freezes up again, his eyes going wide when he finds Zipfreed’s cage empty, with the lock still on and the gate still shut. It actually takes the reptilian reporter a second to consider how he might have vanished. “*Ahem!* Imp Alert Orange.” Wyvern chokes out a nervous laugh as the number for Almost Dragonic Brand Familiar-Finding for Magi™ flashes by several more times, drilling the service associated to the current predicament in. “L-let’sss take a look at our next imp here. Chubchub the Glut Imp is a big favorite amongst mages whose appetites run as deep as their spell booksss. If yer looking to diet a little and those ‘grow slim’ enchantments haven’t been doing their job, Chubchub will make sssure you get slightly less food with each mea-“ Wyvern crunches down on the candy ruby in his mouth as he finds yet another empty cage, this one with a hole through the bars in the shape of a bite-mark. “Errr. Imp Alert Red. I repeat, Imp Alert Red!” Wyvern huffs to himself and runs a claw over his forehead as troglyodytes with nets dash past him left and right, almost running into one another in their desperate search for escapee imps. The overgrown lizard watches the mayhem for a moment as the 1-900 number flashes eight more times, then turns back to the cameras with a persistant salesman grin. “Of courssse, if you haven’t been sssold on the merits of Almost Dragonic Brand Familiar-Finding for Magi™ yet, pleassse let our gorgeous celebrity Almost Intern do all the convincing for you…”

Wyvern clears his throat a bit as he tries to remember whether or not he’d tried the “So pink it must be alcoholic” punch, visibly distracted by the midriff gap that CheerMynx’s lost costume feathers have created. The overgrown lizard pulls out a large manila envelope labeled “CM collection #7” and sweeps the bits of stuck feather memorabilia into it, then licks it and seals it shut before turning to CheerMynx with an awkward grin. “B-b-bit o the Bruteweissser Bubbly?” Wyvern tips the beverage to CheerMynx’s glass, only to have the entire bottle snatched from him and guzzled by the enthusiastic Almost Intern. The overgrown lizard clears his throat a bit and adjusts the collar of his leather hoodie as the owl-ish party gal goes through another “Wooooo!” motion, his eyes following her bobbing chest feathers as she bounces up and down. “Man." Wyvern spinning eyes roll their way to a halt long enough to catch CheerMynx's grin. "I reeaaaallly needssss to try me some of that pun-” Wyvern''s statement is cut short as the troglyodyte parade passes through again at triple the speed, engulfing him in a number of Pen Elder Dwarf marching build-up drums and Pen Elder Dwarf comic timing cymbals. The overgrown lizard grunts as he's turned full circle in the partying crowd, extending a claw to his favorite cheerline as her feathered sight fades further and further into the distance...

The hissy and shaky sounds of Almost Dragonic Brand Snake Tail Rattlers™ cue up with the news cameras, which turn and pan over an extra colorful and sparkly rendition of CheerMynx’s bedroom HQ. Orange and black bean bags are scattered across the rainbow spectrum of confetti that covers the cheerline’s floor, and decorative sparkly plastic butterflies dangle from the ceiling in honor of a certain pennite’s birthday. The attention of the cameras is diverted from the silvery beads strung around CheerMynx’s mirror as a dancing parade of troglyodytes passes by, complete with synchronized arm twirls and scaly rear-shaking antics. The cameras follow the line of troglyodytes for a moment, zooming in to examine the details of the fake Pen Elder Dwarf beards and corresponding name cards they’re wearing, only to be interrupted as a familiar claw taps on the side of a lens. “Greetingssss. It’s an Almost Report Mardi Gras party, and yer all invited to watch!” The cameras zoom out to get a better shot of Wyvern, who is dressed in a combination of black leather boots, black leather gloves, a black leather jacket complete with accompanying black leather cape, and a wide-brimmed black leather hat that hangs pierced through one of his horns uselessly. The overgrown lizard wears a pirate-style patch over his left eye, and a silver badge with the word “Demi-God” is pierced upside-down on his jacket over the region of his heart. The most notable aspect of the lizard’s outfit, however, is the stuffed imitation squirrels that hang on strings from his belt. Each of the squirrels has an empty miniature can of Bruteweiser taped around its chest, with each of the cans painted red and tagged with the white initials “TNT.” The cans rattle like mariachis when Wyvern moves due to the curly onion cheese doodles loaded within them, and an extra set of “TNT” sporting squirrels drag behind him via a string attached to his tail stinger. “Glad you could join usss, the party’sss just getting started.” Wyvern travels over to the crimson-glazed mini-cake that rests on a table adjacent to CheerMynx’s dresser, then pulls off one of his gloves to reach down and scoop up a lick of frosting in his claw. His tongue curls over the sample as he hisses. “Right off the bat, I’d like to sssend out the Almost Report’s best birthday wishes to Annael and Alaeha. Feel free to drop by for sssome treats, though no promises on cake.” Wyvern rattles his squirrels a bit to give Annael and Alaeha a taste of the curly onion cheese doodles on offer, then tosses his cape back and turns to CheerMynx’s dresser. With his claw still ungloved, he opens and glances through the drawers one at a time, in the search for a misplaced bottle of Bruteweiser Bubbly (or panties… or perhaps some sort of Pen Diary?). He grunts when he comes up short, and pulls his glove back on as he shuts the last drawer with his tail and turns back to the cameras. “On the top fifty Pen Party Newsss playlist, we’ve got the First Line Poetry Challenge and 28 Weeks Later (no affiliation, *ahem*) at the tops of the poetry and RPing chartsss.” Wyvern turns and begins wandering through the various partying troglyodytes, making his way over to CheerMynx’s bed. “Followed ssswiftly by the latessst Pen Graffiti, and the winding down of Werewolf XLII and Meet the Almost Reporter. Go get yourselves involved in this sssseasons hottest Mardi Gras events!” Wyvern rattles his way up to the head of CheerMynx’s bed and reaches under one of the pillows, instantly pulling out a bottle of Bruteweiser Bubbly in a way that calls his previous search for booze into question (... definitely panties). The overgrown lizard cradles the bottle in his claws as he slowly seats himself on a large black bean bag set in the corner of the room, blending in a bit given the color of his outfit. The reptilian reporter removes the patch from his left eye, however, as he realizes that CheerMynx’s arrival must be imminent…