Wyvern

Wyvern cheers Ayshela for choosing to host a Mighty Pen Madlib, and immediatly sets about scheming a series of responses for the exercise. 1. A Pen Member - the Archive 2. Verb, past tense - violently exploded 3. Colour - the pale white of Brute's bald head 4. Time of Day - the five minute interval between horseback riding time and water polo time. 5. Adverb - inadequately 6. Verb - grease 7. Plural Noun - breakdancing midgets 8. Noun - Belchfire's second cousin 9. Adjective - accordian-sporting 10. Adjective - grotesquely mutilated 11. Adjective - Pepsi Cola endorsed 12. Plural Noun - tonedeaf American Idol participants 13. Verb, past tense - mooned 14. Part of Body - the middle finger Note: it usually does take a bit of editting to fit the responses into the completed version, but that's all part of the fun of it!

Just to let everyone know, both the Doseone interview and the "Rhymesayers" episode of "Any. Given. Moment." went very well last week. It was a pleasure to get to interview Dose over the phone, and he seemed very eccentric and talkative over the course of the interview. The highlight of the interview was probably this extremely weird story Doseone told about a video shoot he did with Radioinactive in L.A, which involved goats being stolen by random pedestrians from zoos amongst other things. Hopefully, the interview should be up in MP3 format at some point for those that missed it. The "Rhymesayers" episode also went very well, and I think it may have been one of my best shows yet. There were no visible slip-ups, and the transitions between tracks went very smoothly. Just about every significant Rhymesayers release to date was touched upon over the course of the show, and Orlan called in from Minnesota to chat about the common past-time activities over in Saint Paul. Thanks once again for calling in Orlan, your contribution is definitely appreciated! A track was also dedicated to Minta Rose (Eyedea & Abilities - "One Twenty"... super hyper-active), and birthday shouts were given to Valdar, Aardvark, Parmenion, and Gwaihir. Just to give people a heads up: there are only two more episodes of "Any. Given. Moment." left in the semester! This week, I'll be doing a special show on political hip hop entitled "Everything is Politics," and anyone who has disturbing news articles they'd like to share over the air is highly encouraged to call in. It should be a very dark and spoken-word oriented show, so be sure to stay tuned... Thanks once again to everyone!

Oldfox stutters and goes a bit pale as Gnarlitch narrates the variety of violent methods that could be used to overthrow his brilliant writing, and nervously backs into a corner of the Office as the stinky dwarf's voice echoes gruffly throughout the chamber. The applicant then promptly blushes as he's complimented by Gnarlitch, purple shadows, and Ayshela in turn... and abruptly jumps in shock as what appears to be a golem constructed entirely out of percussion instruments crashes into the Office through the front entrance and creates a huge cacophony of noise in the process. After the noise has ended and those who have gathered in the Office have finished protecting their ears, the musical monstrosity lifts it's harmonica visor with a triangle chime claw to reveal the familiar scaly visage of Wyvern. Snickering to himself evilly and untying the instruments from his torso one at a time, the greedy lizard hisses: "Greetings Oldfox and all *clang* apologies for my *cling* excessive lateness *diiiinnng* ow *gong, clang, crash!*" Oldfox and the others wince and cover their ears apprehensively as they notice Wyvern wavering due to several instruments falling from his tunic. They brace themselves, then let out a sigh of relief when the overgrown lizard regains his balance. "Err *clink* as I was *clink, clang, clong* I was - "clang, crash!* Ahem, as I was saying, sorry for the long delay in getting here *dong-ong-ong-ong* I decided to cut down on the expense of buying bags by strapping all of these *ching!* instruments to my tunic, and didn't take into ac- *cong* -count how much these things weigh." Unstrapping the last of the instruments from his tunic and breeches, the reptilian Elder breaths a sigh of relief and quickly scoops up Oldfox's application. Reading over the vignette carefully and nodding to himself, Wyvern grins and hisses: "An excellent application story, Oldfox... say, would you be interested in purchasing any of these fine quality Almost Dragonic Brand Percussion Instruments?" The greedy lizard points towards the large pile of dented cymbals, quiet gongs, and other disfunctional peculiarities that now lay on the floor. "Since they're Almost Dragonic Brand, you know they'll play music that's full of oneself! (warning: may cause concussions, since they're actually cons...)" Noticing the clear discomfort on Oldfox's face, the overgrown lizard quietly nods and sighs to himself before stamping his Pen application ACCEPTED. ;-) OOC: An excellent application piece, Oldfox, and certainly ACCEPTED. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! Apologies for the extremely late response, I was very busy all last week and didn't find much time to post. I look forward to reading more of your works, and participating with you in collaborative projects. Once again, welcome!

Wyvern winces as he watches Gwaihir roll head-over-heels into the Cabaret Room, and quickly decides to change his birthday gift from an official apology for his previous McTelekenesis scheme to an Almost Dragonic brand cushioned red carpet. Swiftly kneeling to Gwaihir's position on the ground in order to properly bow and accidentally slamming his scaly head onto the floor in the process, the overgrown lizard rubs his scaly nogin and pats the honorable Protector of Wiggly Cabbages on the back as he hisses: "Hope you had a very Happy Birthday, Gwaihir." ;-) OOC: Apologies for the belated response... for what it's worth: I wished you a Happy Birthday a day beforehand on the "Any. Given. Moment." episode that aired the 9th.

Wyvern quickly dashes into the Cabaret Room and immediatly approaches Valdar, signaling the words "Happy Birthday" as best as he can through symbolic horn-language. Rummaging through a tattered sack that he carries, the overgrown lizard pulls out an extra-large, extra-shiny ear ornament and the latest issue of "Enticing Elves," winking towards the planewalker as he hands him the gifts and hissing numerous birthday wishes in the process. Turning from Valdar & Astralis, Wyvern proceeds to wander up to Aardvark and begins sorting through the sack he carries once again, pulling out a rusty crowbar and a defanged rattle snake. The skies darken as Wyvern sets up an open umbrella that clouds the sun from Aardvark's view, and the darkness is accentuated by the large rumble of Aardvark's cake-smell-receptive stomach. Wyvern bows to the birthday Herald, then goes into a meditative stance which causes the rattlesnake to begin swallowing the crowbar whole. At this point, the Aardvark segment of the birthday post abruptly cuts off, leaving the readers to wonder about what may potentially happen next in a mixture of admiration and confusion... Happy birthday, Aardy. ;-) After he's finished with Aardvark, Wyvern quickly wanders up to Parmenion and hands the Quill-Bearer a tracking imp should he ever need to spy on Arwen's recent activities. Nudging and winking to Parmenion while snickering to himself, the greedy lizard hisses "Happy Birthday." OOC: A slightly belated Happy Birthday to Valdar & Astralis, Aardvark, and Parmenion. You can all expect individual shout outs on tommorow's episode of "Any. Given. Moment..."

The "8 Million Stories" episode of "Any. Given. Moment." that aired last Friday went very well... A wide range of stories were touched upon, and Yui called in about halfway through the show to chat and read part of her short story "He Never Broke a Promise." Thanks once again for calling in and sharing your talents with the listening audience, Yui-chan! Tracks were also dedicated to Dean the Adequate and Tanuchan amongst others... On Wednsday, April 7th, I'll be on the air at around 8 PM US EST to interview the highly innovative hip hop artist Doseone over the phone. I'd recommend listening in if possible, as he's quite an eccentric character in the world of music, widely known for his work with cLOUDDEAD, Themselves, and Boom Bip amongst others... Once again, the listening address is www.gwradio.com for those that might be interested. "Any. Given. Moment." will be airing at it's usual time this week as well... The theme of the week is entitled "Rhymesayers," and the show will be entirely dedicated to Rhymesayers Entertainment, a Minneapolis-based hip hop collective that have established themselves as some of the finest MCs in the business, and have single-handedly sparked a thriving hip hop scene in Minnesota. I should mention that my very favorite hip hop album, Atmosphere's "Lucy Ford," was released through Rhymesayers along with many other amazing albums... Fans of punk rock may also be interested to hear that two of Rhymesayers' principal acts, Atmosphere and Eyedea, are distributed through the punk rock label Epitaph, who consider their music quality material. Also, keep an ear open for another special guest caller from the Pen... ;-) On a side not:, I apologize for my lack of creative Pen posting recently... As you can probably guess by this post and my recent concert description, I've been quite busy with radio work this week. I should be back to more Pen posting quite soon...

I went to see Dujeous, Roosevelt Franklin, and Asheru of the Unspoken Heard last night in concert. Before describing the concert, I should note that the event was announced the night before due to some confusion amongst promoters and show bookings, and that I had been DJing with the hip hop department all day as a memorial for a fellow DJ who passed away last week. The lineup for the concert had Asheru listed as the headliner act, with only a small line for "Dujeous/Roosevelt Franklin"... which I find rather strange since I think the latter two host much better live shows. Asheru is a local act, which may account for the placement and popularity. I arrived at the venue, the Black Cat, very early as usual in order to make sure I could get a ticket, buy any interesting CDs on sale, and take the front row of the audience. When I ordered a ticket, the person in charge of searching IDs actually recognized my voice as that of the DJ that hosts "Any. Given. Moment," which genuinely shocked me and gave me a pleasant surprise! I chatted with him about various hip hop things until the doors to the concert opened, and which point I entered. Before the show started, I went to the CD merchandise counter and met Apex and Mojo of Dujeous, as well as Kimani Rogers of Roosevelt Franklin, all of whom I recognized. I explained to them that I was a D.J at WRGW and a big fan of their music, and got a few promos from them for my station. Apex also took down my e-mail address and phone number for any future hook ups, and when I asked Kimani if he'd be down for a radio interview at some point, he responded with an affirmative. Expect a very special guest caller on the "Any. Given. Moment." episode dealing with the record label Third Earth... I have yet to decide on the date. ;-) The first act that opened the show was a lesser known group called R.P.M Band, who were quite good. They were a live band with an M.C rapping on vocals and different people playing different instruments, with no DJ equipment involved apart from a little scratching. They played one really excellent and memorable song about a broken relationship, and I might be checking for their material in the future. The next act to come on stage was Roosevelt Franklin... good ol' Kimani, he's a really funny and down-to-earth guy. His set was introduced by the D.J throwing on this bizarre pop melody from one of those old "coming of age" shows, and he just walked on stage and sort of stood around for a bit, shrugging and nodding to people while sipping from a drink. Then, he very hesitantly approached the microphone and shyly spoke into it "This is just my life... my dream," at which point his set started. His set was good, though it was very short and the D.J messed up a few times. One of the highlights of it was when he told the story of how he found out about this show last night and how he had no time to rehearse it in a mumbling voice. After Kimani was finished, Dujeous took the stage. As I predicted upon purchasing my ticket, they stole the show and put on the best set that evening. Dujeous is, in my opinion, the best live band in hip hop... they have musicians on bass, drums, guitar, trumpet, and keyboards that compliment the styles of the three talented M.Cs (Mas D, Mojo, and Rheturik) perfectly. Even more impressive to me was the amount of unity that the three M.Cs displayed, as the way they traded verses effortlessly really showed that they've been perfecting their chemistry for many, many years. They played many excellent tracks, and had a huge deal of energy on stage (while one M.C would be rapping, the others would often dance). Highlights included a solo performance from the guy on trumpet at the end of one of their best tracks "Spilt Milk," and a Reggae-inspired verse from Mas D on their song "Good Green." Finally, after Dujeous had finished, Asheru came out to perform... He was alright, but nothing special when compared to previous acts. He had a projector that showed various images over the course of his set, which was interesting, but he didn't really catch my attention that much. He's certainly a good M.C, but just wasn't impressive after the enormous amount of energy and musicianship that Dujeous had displayed. I ended up leaving about 30 minutes into his set since my energy was spent and I was a little bored... Overall, it was definitely worth the eight bucks it took to get in.. for hooking up with Dujeous and Kimani, if nothing else!

Thanks to everyone who participated in this madlib. The passage that I chose for this creative exercise is from Zadown's story "Flux," and reads: I removed certain words from this segment and replaced them with fill-in-the-blanks, producing: The [Nonsense Word] opened before him, deep and dark and [Adjective]. He could see the lost [Plural Noun] nearby [Verb, ending in “ing”] their way away to other worlds, could smell and taste the faint [Adjective] traces of the rare [Plural Noun] who were brave enough to [Verb] near his [A Location]. Above [Name of a Pen Member] shone the blue fire of the [A type of writing] that marked his [Plural Noun], behind him dozens of portals glowed with red of [something Red], blinding white of heavenly [something White] and green and [A Color] of material planes. He stood there, [Adjective] and in [A State of Mind], [A Rank] of all he saw, eyes the rich blue-green of [Plural Noun]. [same Name of Pen Member] nodded [Adverb] to himself. [A Proverb] ---- Finally, when filling in the blanks with the responses of participants, the following passages are formed: Alaeha's Version The Slartibartfast opened before her, deep and dark and mimsy. She could see the lost liters nearby spring their way away to other worlds, could smell and taste the faint shaken traces of the rare stir sticks who were brave enough to skewer under her bed. Above Salinye shone the blue fire of the Cosmic2 font that marked her cows, behind her dozens of portals glowed with the red of a banana! No, wait, the red of the guy who slipped on the banana! The blinding white of a heavenly banana! YEAH! The inside is white! And the green and cow color of material planes. She stood there, frumious and in Maine, secretariat (in the third) of all she saw, eyes the rich blue-green of elk. Salinye nodded, very to herself. 21:19 "It is better to dwell in the wilderness than with an angry and a contentious woman." Katzaniel's Version The Shkoogle opened before her, deep and dark and droopy. She could see the lost fuzzles nearby yodeling their way away to other worlds, could smell and taste the faint fine-tuned traces of the rare spaghetti noodles who were brave enough to swoop near the tropics of Saskatchewan. Above Yui-chan shone the blue fire of the Comic Sans font that marked her giraffes, behind her dozens of portals glowed with the red of Santa Clause, the blinding white of the heavenly Easter Bunny and green and neon fucshia of material planes. She stood there, jumpy and chaotic evil, a troubadour of all she saw, eyes the rich blue-green of moons. Yui-chan nodded, almost to herself. "Life is not all beer and skittles." Editor's note: "very" and "almost" are actually not adverbs, though they seem to fit into the madlibs in this case. Degenero Angelus' Version The Spooty opened before him, deep and dark and geriatric. He could see the lost elephants nearby jumping their way away to other worlds, could smell and taste the faint amazing traces of the rare grapes who were brave enough to run near Jupiter. Above the Big Pointy One shone the blue fire of the Times New Roman (36 font, underlined, bold, and scored) that marked more grapes, behind him dozens of portals glowed with red of wine, blinding white of heavenly snow and green and perriwinkle of material planes. He stood there, idiotic and in rebellion, general of all he saw, eyes the rich blue-green of cups. Big Pointy One nodded superly to himself. Men who live in glass houses should change in the basement. Ayshela's Version The slithy opened before him, deep and dark and shiny. He could see the lost mice nearby sliding their way away to other worlds, could smell and taste the faint merry traces of the rare snails who were brave enough to skitter near the depths of Hell. Above Orlan shone the blue fire of the Haettenshweiler that marked his geese, behind him dozens of portals glowed with the red of a tomato, blinding white of heavenly paper and green and turquoise of material planes. He stood there, nervous and in panic, second lieutenant of all he saw, eyes the rich blue-green of tulips. Orlan nodded swiftly to himself. A bird in the hand is a messy proposition. Lady Celes Crusador's Version The Cryptosautis opened before him, deep and dark and unique. He could see the lost dice nearby becoming other worlds, could smell and taste the faint flammable traces of the rare planes who were brave enough to make near the Church of Our Lady of the Seven Pains. Above Gwaihir shone the blue fire of the Geneva font that marked his houses, behind him dozens of portals glowed with red of tulips, blinding white of heavenly roses and green and blue of material planes. He stood there, indecent and numb, general of all he saw, eyes the rich blue-green of lakes. Gwaihir nodded nicely to himself. "He who never committed a sin shall throw the first stone." Kasmandre's Version The Abstentatious opened before him, deep and dark and french-cut. He could see the lost singularities nearby tracking their way away to other worlds, could smell and taste the faint greco-roman traces of the rare theses who were brave enough to ingest near his stomach. Above Zool shone the blue fire of the confusing writing that marked his members, behind him dozens of portals glowed with red of wine, blinding white of heavenly wine and green and wine of material planes. He stood there, whining and in denial, a private first class passenger of all he saw, eyes the rich blue-green of privates (... as in soldiers). Zool nodded to himself, finally. "He who hops highest, hops happiest." ---- Thus concludes another session of Mighty Pen Madlibs... I now leave the floor open to anyone else who might like to host one, as I'd love to participate in one of these madlibs for a change..

I think that this is a really excellent poem, Lashienne Andvari. The approach you take to love through a game of russian roulette is very original and intriguing, and the imagery you use throughout the poem is very evocative. I also really like the transition from the first stanza to the second, as it leaves out the actual firing of the bullet in order to focus on the more essential details of the piece. Having said this, I think that the poem has one flaw that completely drags it down from it's awesome potential: the last line of the poem. The poem reads as very fresh and original to me up until this final line, which seems cliched and out of place in the context of the rest of the poem. I think that if you could improve the ending of the piece somehow, it could be much more powerful. Good stuff.

"What makes you say that?" comes a muffled voice from underneath a huge pile of paperwork, causing Gnarlitch to abruptly jump and purple shadows' rat to immediatly scurry under the beginnings of her scarf. The mass of paperwork surrounding the Recruiter's desk suddenly begins to shift and sway as two scaly claws dig their way out of the top of it, followed by a scaly head wearing a mining helmet. Searching around the room and suddenly noticing Gnarlitch seated next to purple shadows, Katzaniel, and Tanuchan, Wyvern tosses off the helmet and exclaims: "My apologies, I was searching for the latest issue of 'Naughty Elves - Drow Ritual Edition' amidst this Office clutter..." Wyvern hops out of the paper stack and bows to Gnarlitch before immediatly turning to his desk and pressing a purple button labeled "Emit Dwarven Ale Fumes" located there. "Sorry for the wait..." hisses Wyvern to Gnarlitch as the button begins flashing on and off. "The Elder Recruiter Dwarves should be here shortly to look over your application. I figure that, being a dwarf yourself, fellow dwarves will be able to better judge your writing..." After a short moment of waiting, the familiar "hi ho, hi ho" chants of the dwarves are heard approaching the Office. A few moments later, the main entrance of the Office swings open and the Elder Recruiter Dwarves enter in a single file line. They immediatly pause to sniff at the air, however, and then promptly turn around and march back out in the direction they came from. Wyvern raises a brow, his scaly complexion a mixture of curiousity and confusion. "Strange..." hisses the lizard, peering out the Office door as the Dwarves turn a bend and march out of sight. "That's the first time I've ever seen that happen... they usually respond without so much as a quirk." Shrugging to himself, the overgrown lizard stamps Gnarlitch's application story ACCEPTED as the chants of the dwarves faintly chime in the distance: Hi ho, Hi ho, That's quite some stink you know! While we're impressed, it's quite a pest, Hi ho, Hi ho hi ho hi ho... ;-) OOC: An ACCEPTED application, Gnarlitch... welcome to the Mighty Pen! I look forward to reading more of your writing, and participating with you in future roleplaying threads.

Wyvern scrambles into the Cabaret Room as fast as his scaly legs can carry him, setting a small bag of gifts onto the ground as he comes to an abrupt halt and pauses to pant for breath. Nervously glancing over his shoulder to make sure that noone is following him, the overgrown lizard proceeds to wander up to Justin Silverblade, nudging the honorable knight with a scaly shoulder and quietly hissing: "Pssssssst... A happy birthday to you Justin!" With that, the greedy Elder digs into his bag and pulls out a container of Almost Dragonic Brand Sword Polish for Justin, as well as an enchanted glass-cleaning rag for Lorne. Handing them to Silverblade, the lizard whispers: "The Almost Dragonic Brand Sword Polish is guaranteed to clean everything off of your sword... steel included! The enchanted glass-cleaning rag I'm not sure about... supposedly, it was used in the making of the Walt Disney version of Beauty and the Beast..." Having said this, Wyvern salutes Justin Silverblade once again before wandering up towards BlackCagedHeart and digging through his bag of gifts once again. Pulling out an old set of dentures, the overgrown lizard hands them to her and hisses: "Here's a set of Almost Dragonic Brand Dentures... only worn once by a half-ogre's grandmother-in-law. Have a happy 99th!" With that, Wyvern bows to the two birthday folks and dashes out of the Cabaret Room just as Celes Crusador rushes in, searching for the lizard with a net in the hopes of catching him before he reaches any wiggly cabbage patches... ;-) OOC: Happy Birthday, Justin Silverblade and BlackCagedHeart!

3/25-28/04 "You're worser than the white man!" screams the hobbling bundle of rags, aiming his rant up the sunlit street towards a silent man, walking steadily, slowly, quietly wishing he were deaf, his dark brown hand cradling a clinking yellow bag of change in a confused mixture of casual comfort and nervous anxiety. A leather jacket carried in his other hand seems to tremble as the rants grow louder, until finally he grimaces and tosses the jacket with all of his might, towards his verbal abuser, who, ignoring the gesture, hoarsely yells over angered spittle and distant sirens: "Worser than the white man! You- I bought every one of them clothes on your back!" Borders Books basement - CD section, a man with a loose head of bald spots, a weary complexion and a leather jacket asks, no, pleads to a cheerful woman at the information counter for a disc to get his daughter, hoping for a moment of insight, more than just a potential gift. "Something non-vulgar, non-offensive, innocent." he repeats, squawking like a parrot choking on a piece of it's cracker. "... that she'll like" is added as an afterthought as the woman smiles and nods and directs him towards the Cheetah Girl albums in the Disney section. Listening to her suggestions, the man lets out a brief guffaw... the only means of expressing his hidden disappointment at knowing more about his daughter than he ever cared to admit. Leafing through an "A" research project containing sixteen articles, the teacher turns to the last student handing one in and asks "How many articles?" "Eight." he replies flatly, bundling the pages together, and organizing them neatly. The teacher is silent for a moment, then is about to speak up when the student firmly plants the pages on her desk. "Hey!" he says. "I did eight articles." and with that, he proudly walks away.

Well... if noone else feels like hosting one, then I guess I'll go ahead and host another Mighty Pen Madlib. The same rules as before apply: 1) A Nonsense Word 2) Adjective 3) Plural Noun 4) A Verb ending in "ing" 5) Adjective 6) Plural Noun 7) Verb A Location 9) Name of a Pen Member 10) A style or font of writing. 11) Plural Noun 12) Something Red 13) Something White 14) A Color 15) Adjective 16) A State of Mind 17) A Rank 18) Plural Noun 19) Adverb 20) A Proverb

As Cambronne playfully substitutes catnip for cabbages and swiftly hops around a wiggly cabbage, Wyvern stands camoflauged in a giant cauliflower outfit at the opposite end of the patch, silently scheming in light of the Protector of Wiggly Cabbages absence. Contemplating ways in which the patch might be abused, the overgrown lizard just has time to jot down "Sell to McDonalds for lettuce - create new McTelekenesis Value Meal™" before Celes Crusador grabs both him and Cambronne by their necks and drags the two trouble-makers away... ;-) OOC: Hope you have a good time in Florida, Gwai.

Thanks to everyone who tuned into "Any. Given. MURS!" this evening. It was a good show overall, though I felt that the first half of the show was more messy than the second half. There were several annoying computer errors during the first hour which made it impossible play a few of my favorite Murs tracks, including the awesome "24 Hours w/ a G." The Pen is Mightier than the Sword was represented over the course of the show, as usual. I gave plenty of shout outs to everyone tuning in, as well as to Yui and Aegon over in L.A. I was going to dedicate the track "My X-Box Rules" to Aegon during the first half of the show, but unfortunatly Realplayer messed it up and it didn't play. During the second half of the show, Zool was convinced to impromptly call in, and was put on the air. We chatted about the issue of race in music and the significance of Murs always carrying around a tequilla amongst other things... thanks once again for calling in and chatting on such short notice, Zool! Next week's show will be subtitled "8 Million Stories," and will be based around hip hop tracks that tell stories. Expect narratives ranging from humor to downright tragedy, with a few ambivalent tales thrown in for good measure. Be expecting a special Pen caller to read a bit of prose over the air as well... ;-)

some month/ some day/ some year Today, you turned on your computer and decided to visit the Mighty Pen website where this thread of "poetry" and responses happens to be located. Did the tiny Quill image next to the title pique your curiousity, or was this entry reached in a random browse? How does it feel to be observed? And why shouldn't you be as important as the noises that choirs and sneakers make, as the ceaseless tongues of metro strangers and outfits of campus chefs? You are just as central, more central still. You, the purpose behind all poetry, the meaning behind the typing of every word. Omnipresent, you watch, and occasionally "speak" through writing, distant and powerful, repressively supportive. Let me briefly pause here and use this part of the poem to thank people for their comments. Every response expands upon the poem itself with observations of observations. You, the meaning behind the typing of every word. You, the meaning behind everything.

The next show of "Any. Given. Moment." will air this Friday, March 26th, and has been subtitled "Any. Given. MURS!" I'll be playing two straight hours of material from Murs, a very honest, humerous, and down to earth M.C representing the Living Legends crew from L.A. The show will celebrate his latest release, "3:16 the 9th Edition," and should hopefully alert folks that haven't heard of him to a dope rapper and satisfy Murs fanatics alike... Those of you who've caught me rocking my Murs T-Shirt and curiously asked me about it might be interested in hearing every fans self-proclaimed best friend at work... No "mystery caller" has been assigned for this show, but people are encouraged to call in so that we can chat about the lengths of peoples' beards, the symbolic significance of tequillas, and the beautiful scenery of Los Angeles, California. In response to the suggestions of leaving more time for talking on the show: I'll certainly do my best, though I actually end up rattling quite a bit when compared to some of the other D.Js in my department. The difficulty in personalized chatting arises in my not having any D.J partner to chat with, since hosting conversations with myself gets fairly pretentious and annoying in a short amount of time. If you'd like me to elaborate on some things to learn more, you're more than welcome to call in so that we can chat about them over the air. One other brief response: "Any. Given. Moment." is technically a show directed towards a crowd that knows hip hop, regardless of my basically dedicating it to the Mighty Pen. The average George Washington University student tuning into my show for music would technically be searching for an independent hip hop fix... (not that anyone actually does tune in from my University, but let's just put it in hypothetical terms... ;p) "Any. Given. Moment." - "Any. Given. MURS!" This Friday, same place, same time. Be there, or miss out on numerous Christina Ricci dedications...

Wyvern stammers and blushes as he lifts himself from under the frosting-covered form of Ayshela, desperatly trying to halt his bloody nose as he's hit over the head with Cyril's extremely heavy package. The overgrown lizard grumbles and rubs his scaly noggin in pain, then suddenly brightens as he notices a geld-miniature of himself within the box, his greed and ego both suddenly flashing urgent signals to his brain. The reptilian Elder reaches for the geld statue, only to have Celes Crusador place her Scarf of Fortunate Spellcasting over his eyes, causing him to trip and fall into the box next to the statue... ;-) OOC: On a more serious note, a big thank you to everyone who has wished me a Happy Birthday, both here and on IRC. As always, your comments brighten my day...

In Wyvern's Pen sleeping quarters the next morning, at the break of dawn... Wyvern grumbles and shifts under the covers of his messy bed, slowly pulling his dirty money bag sheets over his head in the hopes of drowning out the faint sounds that had awoken him. Finding this strategy ineffective, the overgrown lizard proceeds to cram his scaly head into his pillow as best as he can in the hopes of getting rid of the noises, but then suddenly sits up in bed as he recalls the events of the previous evening. A brief moment of panic siezes the reptilian Elder as he questions if the entire episode had been nothing more than a dream, and he immediatly searches his pajama pockets to make sure that the tip checks are still there and in tact. The greedy lizard sighs in relief when he feels the familiar ruffle of the checks that signify his filthy richness, and leans back in his bed, grinning and thoroughly awake. Thoughts of things to do with the all the money race through the lizard's mind and cause him to smile from horn to horn, sparking visions of numerous potential fantasies that could be realized. He could pay off his enormous debts, buy one of those special Signe massages he always wanted, purchase a mansion with a dollar-sign shaped pool, bribe Orlan into hanging out with him so he could look cool, and finally get Ja Rule to shut up amongst other things. The material wealth, the women, the power... it was all there. And best of all, he could count his money... all... day... long! Wyvern barely manages to hide a squeal of delight as he sits up in his bed once again, savoring the taste of his realized ambitions and glancing out of the windows of his room with an entirely new perspective of the world. The slanting rays of dawnlight that entered the chamber shined like a finely polished geld piece, the chirps of the birds outdoors were like an uber-expensive nature recording tape, the light Spring breeze was like a peacock feather fan waving in his direction, the resounding sounds of artillery cannons were like trumpets announcing his arrival, the... The resounding sounds of artillery cannons?! Wyvern suddenly jumps out of bed as an enormous cannonball smashes straight through the window he was glancing out of, ricocheting off of his ceiling and cupboards and somehow managing to hit and demolish every fragile object to be found in his chamber in the process. The overgrown lizard's jaw drops in horror and he immediately rushes out of his room into the halls of the Pen, only to find several Pen members running around in confusion, still wearing their sleeping gowns and shouting to one another. Upon spotting Wyvern, a night-cap clad Ozymandias races up to the lizard and begins violently shaking him by his scaly shoulders, demanding: "Wyvern, the Pen is under attack! What the heck did you do this time?!" "Th-the Pen is-?" stammers Wyvern, frantically glancing left and right. "W-wait, what makes you think I-?" Ozymandias simply scowls and picks up a cannonball from off of the floor, pointing to the phrase "WYVERN SUX0RZ" that happens to be scrawled in red across it's surface. The lizard immediately pales upon seeing seeing these words. "Tell me Wyvern!" cries Ozymandias as the ground trembles under his feet, shaking the lizard by the shoulders with all of his might. "TELL ME!!!" "B-b-bu-buh-buh-buh, I-" The overgrown lizard's response is interrupted as a gigantic wooden kitten on wheels crashes straight through the Pen's main entrance, the words "TROJAN KITTY CAT" embedded on the front of it's chest. Ozymandias, Wyvern, and the rest of the Mighty Pen that has gathered in the hall gape in horror as a part of the Kitty's head opens and a scrawny man wearing only his "Wyvern is a cheater" boxer shorts steps out of it. "We're doomed" says Ozymandias flatly. "Attention, my dear fellows at the Mighty Pen." declares the man from his position on top of the wooden Cat, a furry microphone amplifying his whiney voice throughout the hall. "I, Alfred Von Spoiledbratmoneyinmeface the Second, was most shamefully offended by a waiter by the name of Weevern at last night's Annual Charity Ball, and lost my very favorite pair of pantalons in a fire that he created. Since I have no idea where to find this Weevern person, however, I have decided to instead focus my vengeance on that cad Wyvern, who I am to understand rests in these halls." Alfred pauses for a moment in order to take a quaint sip from the cup of tea that he holds in his other hand, then continues: "I have brought with me an army of kitten fanatics, who will gladly sacrifice themselves to fill these halls with the deadly odor of poisonous catnip and bring this establishment to the ground. Since I am such a gentleman, however, I will provide you with an alternative option. If you can pay me exactly five billion, seven hundred million, two hundred and eighty thousand, five hundred and two geld for a new pair of fine pantalons, I will halt this siege and retreat out of good nature." Ozymandias' jaw drops at the huge figure of money demanded while a Pen member near a door wails at the impossible sum. Wyvern simply fidgets in his position, his eyes placid, his thoughts turning to the rest of Quixotic's prediction while his claws lean towards the checks in his pockets. The reptilian Elder now realized what he had to do. Holding out the checks in front of the enormous Trojan Kitty Cat, the lizard sadly hisses: "Will you accept checks?" Alfred pauses for a moment, then puts on a pair of high-power spectacles and examines the checks from his position. "Why yes, my good sir... though you'll have to spend time rewriting all of them to me, and you appear to be two geld short in your final sum." Wyvern cringes at this last remark, his scaly lips trembling as he turns to the others that have gathered in the hall and softly asks: "... does anyone have two geld I could borrow?" (OOC: thus concludes Madame Quixotic's prediction for Wyvern. This story could technically end with that last sentence... but if any folks want to make any final posts to conclude the thread, they are certainly encouraged to do so!)

Wyvern rubs his scaly palms together and cackles at the thought of Pen Character Quiz taxation, jotting down the number of copper pieces he'll require people to pay for each lettered response that moves towards a Wyvern similarity... Heeheehee... that is to say, I accept my nomination, and also echo a number of the nominations that other people have mentioned. I'll add Racouol and Grim Squeaker to the potential nominee list (though good luck with the former responding with an "accepted" before the project gets underway), and might also recommend using one character from the Quincunx rather than all four (any one of them could work well, though Rosemary might evoke confusion during the questioning process, glossolalia and all...)

I think that this is a really excellent story, Yui-chan. I particularly liked your (typically) excellent uses of vivid and original details, and also thought that the manner that the tone slowly shifted to a more depressing one as the days passed by was very well done. There never seemed to be any sudden shifts in the principal characters emotions (at least not until the end of the piece, where they were meritted), and the ups and downs of her feelings all seemed to run very naturally and smoothly. I think this sense of realism made the story all the more emotionally evocative... Anyway, I think this piece definitely gets it's feelings and message across... not much else to say except "congratulations on yet another wonderful piece of prose."

I agree with others that this is an excellent story, Ozymandias. I found the interactions between Timothy and Sulette particularly evocative, and especially liked the extremely tense scene where Timothy paces towards Sulette one step at a time. The twist of Sulette secretly being greedy came as a genuine shock to me, since you had me believing that she was a sweet and innocent girl until her very final confession to Tim! It's great to learn more about Timothy's character, and I'm glad that the Gaze could inspire a story like this. Two thumbs up.

This was a nice story, Enitharmon, thank you for sharing it. I particularly liked your excellent uses of significant and original details throughout the piece, as small details such as Jamie's smelling like "coffee and the orange-scented air freshener she keeps in her car" really helped keep the story vivid. Jamie's ambivalent final reaction in the piece was also powerful, as it demonstrated her conflicting emotions very well. One thing that I didn't like as much about this piece was the favoring of telling over showing in it, as I felt that the extensive uses of telling detracted from the excellent details at times. To improve upon this, you might want to show more of the details and allow the reader to determine what they signify rather than telling them what the details are there for. For example, in the afforementioned sentence, where Jamie "smells of coffee and the orange-scented air freshner she keeps in her car," you might want to show the readers that Jamie keeps a freshner in the car rather than telling them, or perhaps drop the reference to the car altogether. Another example of a moment of telling is when the narrator looks over the coffin of the father, and notes "He does not look like he’s sleeping, he looks like he’s dead." Rather than telling the reader how the father looks, you could show it to them through the details of his appearence and let them reach the conclusion of how he looks themselves. Once again, I think that this is a nice story... but personally, I also think that it could be made much more powerful if you used more showing and less telling. Just my -50 cents...

Wyvern races into the Cabaret Room and rapidly removes a theatre resume from his right horn, quickly skimming it over and making sure that it mentions his being "Director of Gyrfalcon: the Movie" before confidentally handing it to Stick. Bowing before the eccentrically dressed theatre operator and hissing in his best Shakespearian, the overgrown lizard exclaims: "I would definitely be interested in participating, Sir Stick. May I ask about how many geld pieces we will be recieving per hour for our performances?" "Well..." stammers Stick, biting his lip. "I-" "Before you decide" declares Wyvern, "You must have a taste of my acting. Watch this." With that, the reptilian Elder briefly turns from Stick and quickly dabs his eyes with the Fake Tear Tissue. The lizard then pulls a plastic onion prop out of his coat and turns back towards the theatre master, holding up the prop and emotionlessly muttering: "Here... have a taste."* * Author's Note: appropriately enough, Wyvern's acting is as bland as the taste of the plastic from which the prop is constructed. ;-p OOC: Definitely count me in for this Quill Quest, Stick. It sounds like loads of fun.

The heroes silently march back through the familiar jungle path they had previously taken to the Temple of Isaiis, supporting Timothy and Elena as they make their way towards the beach where the ship is parked. The two wounded heroes of the party slowly sway on the edge of consciousness as Gyrfalcon and Kaleyra help them pace along, the effects of the healing herbs not providing a cure for the exhaustian that slowly gripped at their souls. As the heroes pass the clearing where they had previously met Elena, the former island guardian opens her mouth in the hopes of whispering something, but only manages to breath a short, uncomfortable sigh. As the heroes exit from the jungle onto the beach shore where their ship is located, an icey grip of fear momentarily clouds their optimism. The shore of the beach was strewn with the corpses of previous monks, a line of the fallen undead leading up to the hull of the "Lunging Lobster." Never the less, the ship was still parked in the same position that the heroes had left it, much to their relief... Myth narrows her eyes and squints past several rays of sunshine, noticing that the boarding ramp of the ship is lowered and that a great deal of activity seems to be occuring around that area. Sailors seem to be carrying large bundles down the ramp and unloading them from the ship, tossing them into the Ocean or onto the sand... The adventurers cross over the beach towards the "Lunging Lobster," carefully stepping past the numerous rotting corpses and almost causing the wounded to trip over a few sand dunes in the process. It's only a matter of moments before a few sailors walking down the plank recognize the presence of the adventurers, and point towards them and shout amongst themselves. Several sailors rush out to meet the adventurers for the rest of their short trek towards the boarding ramp, silently nodding towards them as they help them carry the wounded. The heroes and the sailors aiding them arrive at the boarding ramp of the "Lunging Lobster" just as another bundle of corpses is carried down it by two grunting deck hands and dumped into the Ocean. Gyrfalcon and Kaleyra's eyes widen while Myth remains silent and contemplative, and the three adventurers leave Timothy and Elena to the aid of the sailors as they rush up onto the deck in fear of what might have happened... Reaching the deck, the adventurers are met by a catastrophic mess. The corpses of countless former monks lay strewn alongside the corpses of former crew members, with lifeless forms hanging from the sides of railings and ropes. Near a pole that rests next to a torn sail, a sailor with a medic kit tends to a number of wounded men laying on the ground. As the heroes scan the scene in a mixture of shock and confusion, a familiar voice tones to them: "Don't you worry about it. She'll sail." Gyrfalcon turns only to be met by the gaze of Captain Wallace, standing at the wheel of his ship, his eyes interlocking with those of the half elf. No words are spoken as the hero and the captain look at each other for a long moment, the gratitude present in Gyrfalcon's eyes speaking the words "Thank you for not abandoning us. Thank you for fighting for us, and risking your lives for us." more clearly than spoken words ever could. Smiling lightly and stepping down from his position by the wheel, the Captain nods towards the heros and signals to the sailors tending to Timothy and Elena, directing them towards the medic. There is then a long moment of silence between the adventurers and the Captain, after which Wallace softly murmers: "And Y'Tren...?" Myth rapidly responds to this question with a quick shake of her head, then turns away to find some secluded spot, prefering not to speak or even think about the island anymore now that her feet were firmly off of it's shore. A moment of silence passes in which Wallace quietly nods to this, and then he proceeds to loudly exclaim: "After we unload a few more of these bundles of rottin' monsters from the "Lobster," we'll get the crew back in order and will be sailing outta here in a couple hours. Ain't that right boys?!" An enormous cheer raises from the crowd of sailors, surprisingly powerful and uplifting considering the unexpected horrors that they were forced to endure. "Damn right!" Captain Wallace laughs, unseathing his blood-stained pirate cutlass and plunging it into the corpse of a former undead monk, gingerly splitting it's head at the neck. "No more magical monster islands for us! We're going home!"