Wyvern

I believe that the lack of rhyme schemes in most modern poetry can be attributed to poets constantly searching for original manners to state their thoughts and feelings. While I personally love rhyme schemes in poetry, the difficulty with them is that poets have used them for the past few centuries, and because of this rhyming has become somewhat of a cliche to many modern poets. Having said this, a lack of rhymes in poetry shouldn't be confused with a lack of form. Line breaks, punctuation, and capitalization are all still used in poetry for a reason. Good "free flow" poetry is often editted many times by the author to achieve a maximum effect. There's certainly still great rhyming poetry out there as well, though.

Wyvern cheers as he greets Tasslehof, handing the Kender a tall glass of Bruteweiser booze with a pink umbrella sticking out of it along with a sequel to the book he had given him when he had initially left, entitled "101 More Silly Creative Walks: the Veteran Joggers Edition." Having done this, the overgrown lizard adjusts the ruffled color of the Kender's penguin suite and "refills" his already full glass, happily wishing him a warm welcome back. OOC: Welcome back, Tasslehof! Excellent to hear that you're safe and sound.

I didn't have time to post in this while I was busy with exams, but read it and thought it was hilarious. I especially liked the thirteenth stanza, thanks for sharing Tralla! (note: be sure to give credit next time if you get it from somewhere else, since at first I mistook it for being your writing) Having said this, Wyvern reminisces over his recently completed exams and comes up with a little rhyme of his own: You better not laugh, you better not play That internet chat, you should keep it away Final laws are coming... around. You better not smile, you better not cheer Cus' if'n you do it's an 'F' for the year Final laws are making... their rounds You better write fast, you better have speed Look over class notes till your eyes start to bleed Final laws are giving... head pounds. You better write lots, you better B.S There's no other way, to pass all these tests Final laws are crazy... it sounds. *Insert the jingle of loose change in trying to buy coffee, but coming up a few cents short here* ;-p

Wyvern twiddles his fingers and twitches nervously, uncertain how to break it to Annael that the butterfly he had caught to safely keep in her absence had escaped from his geld pouch by means of a magic spell. Slowly approaching the tree and reciting numerous potential excuses and apologies under his breath as he does so, the reptilian Elder suddenly notices a small, glowing form hovering around a low hanging branch. The lizard's eyes widen as he notices that it's the very butterfly that had escaped his pouch, which hadn't moved an inch from the tree since Annael's departure. Grinning happily and dashing towards the tree as fast as his legs can carry him to give Annael a huge hug tackle and welcome her back, Wyvern completely forgets that the angel is resting on a high branch and collides head on with the rough bark of the tree stump. Never the less, the vibrations sent through the tree by means of the collision send a feeling of warmth to Annael's wounded soul. OOC: Welcome back, Annael. I hope that your move went smoothly, and that life has been treating you well.

Nimue taps her right foot on the floor of the Office patiently and does a little spin in her applicant easychair out of boredom, wondering what could possibly be taking the Elder of Initiates such a long time to arrive. She had noticed that the paper mess in the hallway had been cleared out and that both X-Sabre and dragonqueen had gotten their applications stamped accepted, but now had no idea where reptilian Elder could be. Fidgeting nervously in her seat and restlessly clicking a pen with her gentle elven fingers, the applicant begins to worry that the lizard's lack of presence might might have something to do with the nature of her application... Suddenly, as if to provide a cure for her anxiety, the front door of the Recruiter's Office slams open and Wyvern barges in, grinning and waving to Nimue as he does so. The elven applicant raises a brow curiously as she notices the overgrown lizard's attire, uncertain of what to make of it. Aside from the numerous papercuts and ink blots that stain the lizard's face from his previous paperwork burial, the Elder is dressed in what appears to be an ugly combination of red and green fluff, along with the bottom half of a mop which has been attached to his face like a mock beard. On his head rests a poorly fabricated fez on which one of Canid's purple fuzzies has been attached like a tiny pompom ball, and slung over one of his scaly shoulders is a nearly empty sack labeled "evils." Dropping the bag off at his desk and turning towards Nimue, the overgrown lizard flashes a grin of razor sharp teeth and hisses: "Hiss hiss hiss, merry XXXmas and all that good stuff." Nimue stares at the Elder blankly. "Ummm... Hi Mr. Wyvern. I take it you're supposed to be the ghost of Christmas past, yes?" Wyvern snickers and shakes his head, then responds: "Not quite... I'm Santa Claws a.k.a Saint NickleU.S! If you need a Santa visit, just call on me and I'll do it for a nickle. No Santa clauses apply, however." Nimue raises a brow and slowly nods to this as Wyvern picks up her application story and carefully reads it over several times. After he's finished doing so, the lizard grins and hisses: "A good application story, Nimue, and certainly acceptable material. Before I do so, however, I'm curious about something. Have you ever heard of the sport known as..." The room suddenly darkens and Wyvern's face is illuminated in an evil glow as he articulates the word: "... NIMBALL?" Nimue gulps and swiftly shakes her head, hitting a lightswitch on the wall in order to light the room back up. The truth of the matter was that she had heard about the apocalyptic sport once or twice, but from her knowledge it was best not to speak about it unless you wanted to bring about a disaster. "With a name and pretty elven appearence like yours..." continues Wyvern, rubbing his scaly claws together greedily "you could make quite a mascot." At that moment, a herd of purple fuzzies barges into the office and tramples over Wyvern before he can continue, removing the fuzzy from his fez before stampeding back out of the door. Grumbling in pain in his mangled position on the ground, the lizard sighs and stamps Nimue's application ACCEPTED. ;-) OOC: A good story and an ACCEPTED application, Nimue. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! I liked this story along with a lot of the stuff you've written at World of the Two Skies, and am happy you decided to apply here. If you'd like some help with tenses, I'd be more than happy to do what I can to help you improve it. Once again, welcome!

Dragonqueen stretches and yawns as she wanders back towards the door of the Recruiter's Office from a short bathroom break, admiring the many paintings of writers and plaques of quotations that litter the walls of the Pen. The eager applicant comes to an abrupt halt as she suddenly notices X-Sabre wandering down the hall with the seven Elder dwarves of the Pen, and attentitively watches the group as they make their way towards the Cabaret Room. The happy expression on X-Sabre's face could only mean one thing... that he had been accepted! Quickly brightening and turning towards the direction of the door once again, the excited applicant immediatly dashes to the Office as fast as her legs can carry her and barges through the open entrance, exclaiming: "Mr. Wyvern! You've arrived! Is my application acce-" Dragonqueen stops in mid-sentence as she suddenly notices that the overgrown lizard is laying motionless on the ground. "Mr. Wyvern...?" Approaching the reptilian Elder cautiously, the eager applicant taps his innert form gently with the tip of her right toe. "Hmmm..." Concluding that the lizard is out cold due to his lack of a response, dragonqueen quietly curses under her breath and searches for some method to wake the almost dragon. Noticing a bell resting on the mess of paperwork crowded on Wyvern's desk, the applicant heads over to it and rings it a few times while exclaiming: "Wyvern, rise and shine!" Still no response from the lizard. Frowning and scratching her chin, the applicant turns towards the office window on the lefthand side of the room. Taking a small mirror out of her purse and setting it up so that the Sun reflects directly into Wyvern's face, the applicant murmers: "Mr. Wyvern, the Sun is shining..." Much to her dismay, there is still no response. In addition, the manner in which the light is reflected accidentally causes a heat ray that sets the immobile lizard's nose on fire. Gasping in a horrified manner, dragonqueen quickly puts the flame out by stomping on it, only to find that Wyvern still hasn't awoken after she's done so. Sulking and about to give up on the concept of ever awakening the overgrown lizard, dragonqueen turns to walk towards the exit of the office only to accidentally drop a single geld piece from her purse as she puts her mirror back. The sound of the piece of gold hitting the ground immediatly revives Wyvern, who miraculously jumps to life and dives for the piece of wealth. After a moment of intensive examining, the greedy reptile stuffs the coin into his pocket and turns to dragonqueen. Bowing to the applicant dizzily and apologizing many time over for his lateness, he then proceeds to stamp dragonqueen's application ACCEPTED. ;-) OOC: On a more serious note: a very good poem, dragonqueen, and certainly an ACCEPTED application. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! I apologize for the extreme lateness of my response, and fully deserve the burnt nose I recieved! *Shakes a fist at his past examinations* I'm looking forward to reading more of your poetry and prose, as well as participating with you in group events. Once again, welcome!

X-Sabre sighs to himself and slumps back in his applicant easychair, adjusting a pair of earmuffs on his head in order to dead the sound of the pounding jackhammers hard at work in a nearby hallway. Glancing towards an AoA Christmas Avent Calender that hangs on the wall of the office, the eager applicant smirks as he notices that all of the chocolates have been taken out beforehand by the Elder of Initiates and replaced with normal Avent Calender chocolates, which didn't bear the slightest ressemblence to the figurine variety Tzimfemme cooked up for the AoA brand Calender. Noticing the current date, X-Sabre raises a brow and lifts himself from his seat as he realizes that Wyvern should show up any moment now... As if on cue, the sounds of the jackhammers suddenly cease and the gentle echo of tapping footsteps are heard as several pairs of feet quickly make their way to the Office. X-Sabre jumps as the main entrance to the chamber rapidly slams open and the seven Elder Dwarves race in carrying Wyvern on their backs. Panting and wiping ink stains and loose leafs of paper from their dirty outfits, the dwarves haphazardly toss the unconcious form of Wyvern towards X-Sabre's feet, then nod and turn to depart from the office when the aggrevated applicant suddenly exclaims: "Hey... wait a minute! How is Wyvern gonna respond to my application in this state? It doesn't even look like he can stand up." The dwarves consider this statement for a moment, frowning and whispering amongst themselves before nodding and deciding to get to the application response themselves. Picking up the story segment and reading over it thoroughly, Bravery is the first to respond in saying: "I really like the bravery that Josh shows in this piece in leading the party and maintaining such a brave composure..." Nodding to this, Greedy then sniffles and hisses: "Hmmmm... I suppose the Y-shaped branch could probably be passed for a cheap gambling shuffler if it was marketed correctly." "Henry's watch might not work..." exclaims Shiny happily while tracing a finger down the page "but it's certainly shiny!" Sexy scratches his chin before muttering "Well... Sarah has a good sense of fashion in not wanting to sleep with bugs and dirt, so it works for me." Silly nods to this, then jumps up and down before scribbling something onto a piece of cardboard and holding up a sign that reads: I like the manner in which they sleep, curled up closely next to trees... Finally, the shadow of X-Sabre momentarily takes a life of it's own as Shady is formed, and the last of the dwarves whispers: "Of timeframes warped, and children lost... a darkness falls, with horrid cost... a second segment, you shall promise... a new member, is now upon us." With that, the Elder dwarves all nod and reach for the nearest stamp, labeling X-Sabre's reapplication ACCEPTED. OOC: An nice intro to a story and an ACCEPTED application, X-Sabre... I'm glad you decided you wanted to become a member again. I apologize about the long wait in responding (darn exams), and look forward to reading more of your writing in the future. Welcome back! Editors note: deleted and reposted due to it not showing up as a new post for some reason.

X-Sabre, dragonqueen, and Nimue all wait patiently in the Recruiter's Office for Wyvern's arrival, sighing and grumbling to themselves as they wonder how much longer the whole recruitment process is going to take. While the infamous Elder of Initiates was widely known for his extensive periods of absence, the lack of a recruiter's presence in the office still seemed slightly unnerving... though the comments of other kind pen members certainly lifted the burden of anxiety from their shoulders. Fidgeting in their seats restlessly and contemplating where the overgrown lizard could be, the three applicants turn their heads simultaneously as the stout figure of Bravery the Elder Dwarf suddenly enters the office. Turning to the applicants and giving them a comforting nod, the dwarf unravels a parchment and exclaims: "Hear yee, hear yee, recent applicants! We, the commitee of Elder Dwarves, are sorry to inform you that it seems Wyvern may be absent a while yet. He was walking down the hall towards the office carrying a stack of papers so large it could challenge Mt. Everest in height, and got stuck in the middle of his paperwork when wandering down a narrow hallway. We, the Elder Dwarf commitee, would normally respond in his absence, but are unfortunately hard at work trying to get Wyvern unstuck from the mess. We estimate that we should be able to dig Wyvern out in a week or so, around December 15th, at which point he'll certainly get to your applications. There is a chance that an Elder Dwarf or two might be able to briefly break before this date and respond to a few applications, but we wouldn't count on it. After all, we're making an effort to only use pliars when dealing with the papers with numbers on them..." Having said this, the Elder Dwarf nods and rolls the parchment back up, stuffing it back into his pocket and muttering: "We apologize for the delay, and would suggest getting to know one another and participating in the public forums (which is where most of the writing takes place anyway) in his absence." Bravery then bows to the three applicants, and quickly exits the office as a dwarven voice from another hall exclaims: "Sledgehammer! We need a sledgehammer!" OOC: On a more serious note to all recent applicants, X-Sabre, dragonqueen, and Nimue in particular, I'm currently diving into an intense final exam period and won't really be available on the boards till around the 15th. While you wait, you can feel free to RP and get to know each other in this thread (though I unfortunatly won't have time to make any more posts in it) and participate in the other forums (which I noticed some are already doing). After my exams finish, I'll get to your applications as soon as possible. Sorry for the delay!

Wyvern quickly dodges a random flying pen member, then takes a small sip of Bruteweiser booze before clearing his throat and responding: "My favorite colors: Shiny Gold Dull Gold Golden Yellow Bright Gold "Wizard of Oz" brick color Yellowish Gold-mine Metallic Gold Interior-of-a-treasure-chest Gold The predominant color of the chains M.Cs always seem to wear Natural Gold and Money Vault silver." With that, the overgrown lizard tip-toes away from the crowds, nudging X-Sabre on his way out and offering him an Almost Dragonic Brand Bootleg All Fuschia Crayola Set™ for only a few geld...

Thanks for your comments, Yuki. Upon asking around, I've found that the poem still seems a bit unclear to people and so I've taken another shot at it. This version is kind of a combination of the two previous versions, with a couple of other things I decided to add in. I'm not sure if this thread should belong in the Writer's Workshop at this point... hopefully, this will be the last time I write a new version. I think that I like this one the best. Automation (take three) Your hand touches mine from across the office space over discarded diskettes of our love letters. The pixels on the screen show the two of us kissing, an image that your eyes carefully avoid. Your middle finger wrestles with my right index, an asset used for speed typing the “i” in “i’m sorry.” The monitor hums to the same tune that was whistled on winter mornings, over warm hugs and “Never Winter Nights.” Your hand leaves But it’s moisture rests, and mists computer keys and mouse pads with perfumed sweat. The seat next to me groans as you lift yourself and walk to the exit door slamming it shut. And the code on the screen bares a sudden ressemblence to my heart. Broken into a million fragments.

I liked this poem, Falcon, particularly the manner in which the narrator of the poem is related to his own fictional character, who represents a certain aspect of his own personality. I also really liked the lines "When the story takes over the author/ Something is quite awry," as it's an intriguining concept that compliments the thematic elements of the poem very nicely. In terms of improvements, I think the poem could be made even stronger if perhaps some more concrete imagery were added, as we're given mostly narrations of the narrator's feelings. Perhaps you could fix this by throwing in a few similes of metaphors for the rage he experiences. Anyway, good stuff.

I think this is a really excellent story segment, Yui-chan. Even in the small space of the one or two chapters you've presented here, the personalities of the characters are portrayed very vividly and the internal and external conflicts are both very strong. I found the ambivalence in the emotions of the characters particularly intriguing, especially the struggle between Adreina's pride and her secret desire for acceptance when confronted by Djaz's warmth. The only paragraph that I didn't really like in this segment was the paragraph in Chapter 14 that starts "Ah, but she was weak, and those thoughts didn't bring her comfort..." and ends "...she responded with weakness and failure. She --" I thought this paragraph broke the flow a little as, unlike the other paragraphs, it's simply telling the reader about Adreina's feelings rather than showing them. I think that your occasional uses of telling in other paragraphs are very well done, but that in this paragraph there was too much of it... My favorite moment in this segment was probably when Djaz suddenly showed warmth towards Adreina, as it was an unexpected developement that didn't come completely out of the blue. Like I said though, I thought the characterization was really excellent throughout... I liked this version more than the original, and it's cool to see what led to the conversation about dust bunnies. Great stuff, I'm definitely interested to see how it developes.

Lady Shade sighs and taps a foot on the ground as she patiently waits for the Elder of Initiates arrival, occasionally glancing towards the grandfather clock located in the far corner of the room to check the time. The eager applicant had been waiting for the infamous Elder for a few days now, and was beginning to long the freedom of the outdoors after sitting for ages in the confines of the office. Grumbling and lifting herself from her seat, the anxious applicant wanders over towards the window in the hopes of opening it and letting in a cool breeze, only to jump back in surprise as the window is opened for her from the outdoors by none other than Wyvern. The overgrown lizard quietly crawls into the office and places a scaly finger to his lips to imply silence, then waits a long moment before snatching up Lady Shade's application and hissing: "Greetings, Msss. Shade... apologies for my slight lateness, I was chased down by a gang of orcs after selling them a batch of fake elven-ear trophies and had to go into hiding for a bit. Hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long, I'll get to looking over your application immediatly!" Having said this, the greedy lizard proceeds to carefuly look over Lady Shade's application piece several times. A sinister grin slowly makes its way across his face as he does so, and after having finished with the application, he turns once again towards the eager applicant and mutters: "A very nice application piece, Lady Shade, and certainly acceptable material... before I give it the thumbs up, however, I'm curious as to whether you know any pixies personally? The depiction is very realistic..." "I-" starts Lady Shade. "If you do know any pixies..." interrupts Wyvern sinisterly "then perhaps you could help me advertise these Almost Dragonic Brand Pixie Snowboards™ to the pixie masses!" With that, Wyvern takes out a bag containing a number of plastic pointy ears and points a finger at them as Lady Shade raises a brow in disbelief. "These would make great pixie snowboards, and the larger ones could even be used as pixie trampolines!" "Ummm... Mr. Wyvern..." mutters Lady Shade hesitantly "I don't know any pixies personally, and if I did I'm uncertain if I'd try to pass off plastic pointy ears as miniature snowboards." Wyvern grumbles and nods to this, stamping Lady Shade's application "ACCEPTED" just as the front door of the office bursts open to reveal two aggravated looking orcs bearing plastic Star Trek Klingon ears and growling at Wyvern menacingly. Cursing to himself and bowing to the newly accepted applicant, the overgrown lizard proceeds to rush towards the open office window and leaps out of it just as the orcs barge into the chamber... ;-) OOC: A good application piece, Lady Shade... certainly ACCEPTED! Thank you for applying, and welcome to the Mighty Pen! I look forward to reading more of your writing and participating in creative projects with you in the future... once again, welcome!

I agree that Goofy would fit the comically clumsy character of Gwaihir very well... Zool would probably be more along the lines of the Genie from "Aladdin," with his upbeat attitude, imaginative creations, and Robin Williams voice... If Wyvern were to be associated to a "Duck Tales" character, I think he might fit into the role of Scrooge McDuck's arch-nemesis Glaumgold the best, as he displays the less moral side of the Quest for profits. Of course, he'd probably have a bit of the dragon Mushu from "Mulan" somewhere in his blood... Melba would probably be the bastard hybrid of Ursula from "The Little Mermaid" and Cruella Deville from "101 Dalmations," with a touch of Tarzan's gorilla mother thrown in for effect. Yui could fit into the role of Morgana from "Darkwing Duck," as she represents the shadowy and mysterious sorceress figure. Perhaps some elements from Esmerelda of "Hunchback of Notre Dame" also thrown in the mix for a sense of intrigue... Orlan would probably go with Hercules, simply because Hercules has the largest female fan base of any Disney hero. There could be a hint of Gaston's attitude from "Beauty and the Beast" in there as well... The Elder Dwarves of the Mighty Pen could perhaps be related to Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers, or even the hyenas from "The Lion King" in the worst of moods... Of course, they have no connection to the film "Snow White" whatsoever. *whistles innocently* Tzimfemme could almost be an amplified version of Megera from "Hercules," minus the toga and mingled with the bloodlust of Scar from "The Lion King" (particularly appropriate with Orlan as Hercules). Rydia would fit more along the lines of Jasmine from "Aladdin..." I mean, even the name refers to a shiny! Rosemary would probably fit best in the role of Pocahontes, who ignores the humans for the most part and communes with nature. As for Minta Rose, the first characters that come to mind are the original versions of Chip and Dale in their "taunt Donald Duck with our hyperactivity" days, mixed with the taste of sugar found in "Mary Poppins." I think that Lumpenproletariat might best fit the meerkat Timon from "The Lion King," with his laid back attitude and "Hakuna Mattata" motto for life... As for Aardvark, Disney has not yet developed an animation obscure enough to capture his essence on screen... ;p

Wyvern dashes into the Cabaret Room at full speed upon hearing the news of Cyril Darkcloud's return, a large grin of razor sharp teeth making it's way across his face as he notices the familier figures of Cyril and his owl Whisper examining the halls. Immediatly rushing up to the famous Pen member and vigorously shaking his right hand while cramming it full of Almost Dragonic Product mini-samplers, the overgrown lizard happily hisses: "Welcome back Cyril! It's excellent to see you roaming these halls again... Please feel free to help yourself to any leftover Turkey stuffed with (non-wiggly) cabbages, and make yourself at home." Having said this, Wyvern searches through his pockets for any spare Almost Dragonic Brand Owl Whistles (which are 50% sure NOT to attract ostriches by accident) in the hopes of selling a few products to the newly returned member... ;-) OOC: Welcome back, Cyril! Hope you've been doing well, it's excellent to see you again.

I really like this poem, Mira. I think that the way that you portray the theme in a simple yet intriguing manner is very well done, and that the images of the poem give a lasting impression. The one thing that I might suggest to improve in this piece is the rhymes, which seemed a bit forced to me in certain places. This is due to a few spots where the grammar seems a bit awkward, and it disrupts the flow of the poem a bit. The lines that struck me in this manner were: "But I was been waiting there so long" - change "was" to "have" perhaps? "With not an end in eye" - while "eye" rhymes with "pie," this line could probably be stronger. I might suggest "sight" rather than "eye," as though "sight" doesn't rhyme perfectly with "pie," it does have a slanted rhyme with "pie" and it seems to fit better in the context of the sentence. "The cogs of my mind did turned" - perhaps an adverb rather than "did"... "slowly" maybe? and "I came to wonder if not they were wrong" - I'm not sure if "not" is needed in this line. Anyway, despite the few grammatical errors and the pie/eye rhyme, I think this is an excellent piece. The last stanza reads perfectly to me and sums up the theme of the poem very nicely, by the way.

I'm grateful that the Pen is Mightier than the Sword. :-) ... that and also Almost Dragonic brand Turkey™... Almost Dragonic Brand Turkey™: the turkey that cooks itself! (Warning:AlmostDragonicIndustriesarenotresponsibleforincessantgobblingtantrums,k itchenexplostions, orfamilyrelativesmistakingroastedinstestinetrackliningsforstuffing.Batteriesnoti ncluded.)

Wyvern frantically dashes into the Cabaret Room, his scales covered in a pale tint of red due to various unpleasant hallucinations revolving around Melba and I.R.S agents... Turning towards Alaeha and briefly noting to her that Almost-Dragonic Party-in-a-Boxes come with one genuine cardboard box to party in, the overgrown lizard quickly turns towards Zariah and wishes the crow girl a slightly belated happy birthday. Sorting through a bag of goods that he's holding, the reptilian Elder pulls out a book entitled "How to Speak Crow in Latin" and hands it to the birthday girl before once again panicing from hallucinations and dashing off... Ahcawa Caw Cawah!* OOC: *Happy birthday, Zariah! (in Crow Latin)

Thanks for your comments, Peredhil and Yui-chan. I recently submitted "Automation" for commentary from my creative writing class, and unfortunatly it didn't seem to be very well recieved... Lots of people left scratching their heads in confusion wanting to know what the heck was going on, basically. ;p So, I decided that it needed a bit of work and wrote an alternative second version of the poem. I have mixed feelings about the new structure (which was inspired by Yui's comment on the "middle finger thumb" line in the first stanza of the original)... I'm very happy with it in the sense that I feel it fufills the new sense of fragmentation that I was aiming for, but at the same time feel a bit sad that it caused the third stanza to change. The last line of the new version is also missing something... some other adjective to accompany "distant" in describing the eyes. Any suggestions are appreciated, as well as any other comments anyone has on this version, particularly in terms of it's clarity when compared to the original. Thanks! Automation (take two) The pixels show the two of us kissing on a screen that your eyes avoid. Your middle finger thumb wrestles with my right index, an asset used for speed typing the ‘i’ in “i’m sorry.” The monitor hums the same tune whistled through winter mornings when we sang together. Your hand leaves moisture on the computer keys and mouse pads laden with your scent The guest seat groans as you lift yourself and walk to the exit door. And my eyes blur like a computer screen flashing a series of numbers. Distant.

Wyvern awakens from his concentrated efforts to form a successful tax evasion plan and practically jumps out of his seat in surprise as Adglomero speaks up, not noticing the applicant due to her entering by magical means through the left wall of the office. Glancing towards the main entrance of the chamber and grumbling something about still not getting to test the latest tax collector trap that he had attached to the front door, the overgrown lizard turns towards the eager applicant and cheerfully greets her with a smile full of razor sharp teeth. "Greetings Adglomero! Please take a seat, I'm certain an acceptance can be arranged..." Flipping through the countless number of documents littered on his desktop in search of an application acceptance stamp, the Elder of Initiates suddenly feels a strong breeze as it flows through the open office window. Shivering and raising himself from his desk, Wyvern wanders over to shut the window and warm the office up a bit, only to suddenly notice Adglomero's enormous Roc hovering directly outdoors. Pausing for a moment, the reptilian Elder's scaly jaw drops open as a loose feather comes soaring at him and smacks him right in the face, causing him to topple over. Gasping and glancing towards the stunned Elder in a horrified manner, Adglomero mentally curses to her companion before meekly speaking up and saying: "Umm... Mr. Wyvern, are you alright? I'm sorry, my friend Hiemalis has been known to accidentally let a stray feather loose every now and then..." Much to the applicant's surprise, rather than growing angered or bitter, the overgrown lizard proceeds to take out a magnifying spectacle from his position on the ground and examines the fabric of the feather. "Hmmmm... very nice colors and texture, could go for quite a bit if sold on the proper market as a fan..." "Erm, are you alright Mr. Wyvern?" repeats Adglomero reluctantly, eyeing the reptilian Elder's reactions curiously. "I'm fine, thanks..." hisses Wyvern, getting back to his feet while unsuccessfully attempting to stuff the huge feather into one of his pockets. Glancing back towards the window, then at the applicant, he sinisterly grins and mutters: "I'd be perfectly happy to accept your application, Adglomero... if your Roc Hiemalis would be willing to donate one of his eggs every Tuesday for a Wyvern breakfast omlet!" Adglomero's jaw drops open and she stares in horror at Wyvern as Melba, who happens to be cleaning a corner of the office, notices the lizard's scheme and quickly grabs the nearest Anti-Wyvern mallet. Muttering curses under his breath and quickly stamping Vanessa's application ACCEPTED, Wyvern rushes to the office door to escape Melba's onslaught only to accidentally set off his tax collector trap and have a cascade of false legal documents tumble down upon him, littering him with paper cuts... ;-p OOC: On a more serious note, a nicely roleplayed application Vanessa, certainly ACCEPTED. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! I look forward to reading more of your writing and participating in some roleplaying threads with you in the future.

J'aime cette petite vignette beacoupe, Celes. L'histoire m'a interessé dés le debut avec le titre qui joue avec les mots, et le concept de la piéce est trés originale. J'ai particulairement aimé le notion que l'histoire peut être n'import quelle genre qu'on veut, car c'est nous qui le décide par nos propres idées et impressions. Je pense que ce serai interesent si cette piéce était continuer. Mais, quand je pense, c'est peut être a nous les lecteurs de le continuer n'est-ce pas? Trés bon piéce!

My favorite video games: 1) "Pick the video off of the shelf, then put it back" - a game played at the video rental store when you can't decide which movie you want to rent, and continously pick videos off the shelf only to put them back in their original position. 2) "Back of the video cassette case tongue twisters" - a game where you read the description on the back of the movie cassette casing as fast as you can, including the last names of obscure actors. 3) "Slow motion, fast forward, rewind" - a game in which you place a video into the VCR, and then hit buttons on the remote control to unleash funny effects. 4) "Pull the video tape out of the VCR tug-of-war" - a game played when your VCR eats your video cassette, and the video is already two days overdue from the rental store. Of course, with developments in recent technology, many of these classic video games have been replaced with more modern games, such as "Try to get your dog not to mistake the DVD for a frisbee hide-and-go-seek." ;-p Wyv- - who notes that while the original Final Fantasy was fun, it lacked a certain element that prevented it from ever being classic in his book... mainly plot. ;-p

Thanks to everyone for participating... I'll reveal the story I chose now, along with the version in which words were taken out as well as each individual participants version. If anyone wanted to participate but didn't get the chance to do so, they needn't worry as there'll be plenty more Mighty Pen Madlibs in this thread in the future. Onto the story segment... the segment of a post that I chose for this Mighty Pen Madlib was from Ozymandias' first descriptive post in Falcon2001's "The Many Rooms of the Mighty Pen Keep" thread. The original segment reads as follows: I took this post segment and removed various words from it, replacing them with blanks and forming the following: ------ [A Pen Member] ‘s room [A distance] from the kitchen and the [A place in the Pen] , you come to a [Adjective] hallway set in the wall. It is no longer than [A Number] yards or so, and seems to be built out of [Noun]. Most who traverse it simply [Verb] the ornately woven carpet which stretches its length, declaring its' maker's skill in [Adjective] whites and blood reds, as well as three different shades of [A Color]. The hall's only other adornments are four [Plural Noun] that occupy the walls two on each side, and six simple wooden torches set into basic [A material] frames. The torches are always lit, even in daytime, as [A Type of Light] light has great difficulty piercing the hall. Upon the approach of someone with malice in their [Part of Body], the runes flare bright green before producing four of [same Pen Member]’s five guardians; Lucy, Killer, Ollie, and [Name of an Underling], four shadow creatures who have been shaped into the forms of [An animal]. Upon reaching the door, you see it for the massive slab of oak it is; reinforced with iron, its craftsmanship gives no sense of threat or foreboding, but one of [Adjective] power. In the center of the door, at [A Height] is a small square of parchment that reads, [A Cryptic Phrase] in your native tounge. If, after scratching your head in befuddlement for a moment you knock on the door, call out to the room's owner, or turn to leave, the parchment [Verb], leaving a similarly readable smaller brass plaque that says, simply, [A Phrase]. ------- Finally, when plugging in each participants responses to the equation, we come up with the following stories: Ayshela's Version Orlan‘s room 27.3 miles from the kitchen and the Wiggly Cabbage Patch, you come to a sparkly hallway set in the wall. It is no longer than seventy-leven yards or so, and seems to be built out of wheelbarrow. Most who traverse it simply slallom the ornately woven carpet which stretches its length, declaring its' maker's skill in dank whites and blood reds, as well as three different shades of purple (what else?). The hall's only other adornments are four barnacles that occupy the walls two on each side, and six simple wooden torches set into basic velveteen frames. The torches are always lit, even in daytime, as halogen light has great difficulty piercing the hall. Upon the approach of someone with malice in their bellybutton, the runes flare bright green before producing four of Orlan’s five guardians; Lucy, Killer, Ollie, and peon, four shadow creatures who have been shaped into the forms of mice. Upon reaching the door, you see it for the massive slab of oak it is; reinforced with iron, its craftsmanship gives no sense of threat or foreboding, but one of slimy power. In the center of the door, at 4'8" is a small square of parchment that reads, "You'll find what you seek where the green glass gleams" in your native tounge. If, after scratching your head in befuddlement for a moment you knock on the door, call out to the room's owner, or turn to leave, the parchment skitters, leaving a similarly readable smaller brass plaque that says, simply, "Better to be looked over than overlooked." Gwaihir's Version Fishy Sal‘s room Six inches from the kitchen and Orlan's bed, you come to a hippopotamus-like hallway set in the wall. It is no longer than seven yards or so, and seems to be built out of triangular porpise. Most who traverse it simply chuckle like a hungry maniac at the ornately woven carpet which stretches its length, declaring its' maker's skill in squelchy whites and blood reds, as well as three different shades of the colour of Tyrion's face after he makes ten mispellings. The hall's only other adornments are four stegosaurus underwear that occupy the walls two on each side, and six simple wooden torches set into basic slashed silk frames. The torches are always lit, even in daytime, as black light has great difficulty piercing the hall. Upon the approach of someone with malice in their pinkie finger, the runes flare bright green before producing four of Fishy Sal’s five guardians; Lucy, Killer, Ollie, and servant, four shadow creatures who have been shaped into the forms of baby tapirs. Upon reaching the door, you see it for the massive slab of oak it is; reinforced with iron, its craftsmanship gives no sense of threat or foreboding, but one of potato-like power. In the center of the door, at 6'3 is a small square of parchment that reads, "He's like lacadaisical giraffe" in your native tounge. If, after scratching your head in befuddlement for a moment you knock on the door, call out to the room's owner, or turn to leave, the parchment defenestrates, leaving a similarly readable smaller brass plaque that says, simply, "apple blossoms in the sink." Immortalgrace's Version Gwaihir‘s room A distance away from the kitchen and Wyvern's empty geld vault, you come to a bouncy hallway set in the wall. It is no longer than elevendy hundred yards or so, and seems to be built out of dog collar. Most who traverse it simply trip the ornately woven carpet which stretches its length, declaring its' maker's skill in gooey whites and blood reds, as well as three different shades of puke green. The hall's only other adornments are 5 Elvis impersonators that occupy the walls two on each side, and six simple wooden torches set into basic leather frames. The torches are always lit, even in daytime, as dimmed light has great difficulty piercing the hall. Upon the approach of someone with malice in their thigh, the runes flare bright green before producing four of Gwaihir’s five guardians; Lucy, Killer, Ollie, and Patsy, four shadow creatures who have been shaped into the forms of panda bears. Upon reaching the door, you see it for the massive slab of oak it is; reinforced with iron, its craftsmanship gives no sense of threat or foreboding, but one of depressed power. In the center of the door, at 7 1/2 mm is a small square of parchment that reads, "You'll know when the sun hits the top of the bald man" in your native tounge. If, after scratching your head in befuddlement for a moment you knock on the door, call out to the room's owner, or turn to leave, the parchment pokes with a stubbly pencil, leaving a similarly readable smaller brass plaque that says, simply, "you're not cheesey enough for my cheese helmet." [Note: the distance was forgotten and instead there was one more noun than there should have been in the listing, so "Evander Holyfield's piece of lost ear" unfortunatly didn't fit in anywhere... :-(] Vlad's Version Zool‘s room The length of Annael's nose from the kitchen and inside of Gyrfalcon's "Bag of Holding," you come to a quasielectronegative hallway set in the wall. It is no longer than the cube root of pi divided by eleven yards or so, and seems to be built out of pants. Most who traverse it simply stalk the ornately woven carpet which stretches its length, declaring its' maker's skill in necrophilitic whites and blood reds, as well as three different shades of Crayola's infamous "Indian Red." The hall's only other adornments are four vegetarians that occupy the walls two on each side, and six simple wooden torches set into basic butterfly wing frames. The torches are always lit, even in daytime, as greenlight has great difficulty piercing the hall. Upon the approach of someone with malice in their rectal cavity, the runes flare bright green before producing four of Zool’s five guardians; Lucy, Killer, Ollie, and Mini-me, four shadow creatures who have been shaped into the forms of echidnas. Upon reaching the door, you see it for the massive slab of oak it is; reinforced with iron, its craftsmanship gives no sense of threat or foreboding, but one of psuedotriquantized power. In the center of the door, at eighteen and one half dekameters is a small square of parchment that reads, "Don't worry, it's in my sock!" in your native tounge. If, after scratching your head in befuddlement for a moment you knock on the door, call out to the room's owner, or turn to leave, the parchment combusts, leaving a similarly readable smaller brass plaque that says, simply, "It's in your goddam sock?!?" Lady Celes Crusador's Version Yui-chan‘s room 200 km from the kitchen and the Manor of Tongue's Café, you come to a gorgeous hallway set in the wall. It is no longer than 7 yards or so, and seems to be built out of cow. Most who traverse it simply obliterate the ornately woven carpet which stretches its length, declaring its' maker's skill in colorful whites and blood reds, as well as three different shades of burgundy. The hall's only other adornments are four glasses that occupy the walls two on each side, and six simple wooden torches set into basic steel frames. The torches are always lit, even in daytime, as candlelight has great difficulty piercing the hall. Upon the approach of someone with malice in their mouth, the runes flare bright green before producing four of Yui-chan’s five guardians; Lucy, Killer, Ollie, and Soldier, four shadow creatures who have been shaped into the forms of tigers. Upon reaching the door, you see it for the massive slab of oak it is; reinforced with iron, its craftsmanship gives no sense of threat or foreboding, but one of elegant power. In the center of the door, at 6'2" is a small square of parchment that reads, "I'm suppose to suppose about a supposition" in your native tounge. If, after scratching your head in befuddlement for a moment you knock on the door, call out to the room's owner, or turn to leave, the parchment whistles, leaving a similarly readable smaller brass plaque that says, simply, "I've heard that French wine would be exceptional this year." Alaeha's Version Mr. Bunny‘s room A hop, skip, and jump away from the kitchen and Salinye's Bathtub, you come to a marble-sharp hallway set in the wall. It is no longer than e yards or so, and seems to be built out of Almost-Dragonic Margarine. Most who traverse it simply snorfle the ornately woven carpet which stretches its length, declaring its' maker's skill in antedeluvian whites and blood reds, as well as three different shades of (in the manner of Douglas Adams) ultraviolet. The hall's only other adornments are four cows that occupy the walls two on each side, and six simple wooden torches set into basic post-dated swiss cheese frames. The torches are always lit, even in daytime, as infrared light has great difficulty piercing the hall. Upon the approach of someone with malice in the second knuckle of their left pinky, the runes flare bright green before producing four of Mr. Bunny’s five guardians; Lucy, Killer, Ollie, and Wyvern, four shadow creatures who have been shaped into the forms of manatees. Upon reaching the door, you see it for the massive slab of oak it is; reinforced with iron, its craftsmanship gives no sense of threat or foreboding, but one of power that is graceful as a saint bernard. In the center of the door, at 100,000 micrometers is a small square of parchment that reads, "When the clock strikes thirteen" in your native tounge. If, after scratching your head in befuddlement for a moment you knock on the door, call out to the room's owner, or turn to leave, the parchment flinches, leaving a similarly readable smaller brass plaque that says, simply, "I'll stab him with my Stabby Stabby Pencil of DOOM!" Peredhil's Version Madoka‘s room 7 miles high from the kitchen and Orlan's Lounge, you come to a indicative hallway set in the wall. It is no longer than pi yards or so, and seems to be built out of calculus. Most who traverse it simply defenestrate the ornately woven carpet which stretches its length, declaring its' maker's skill in puckish whites and blood reds, as well as three different shades of puce. The hall's only other adornments are four ounces that occupy the walls two on each side, and six simple wooden torches set into basic gortex frames. The torches are always lit, even in daytime, as ultraviolet light has great difficulty piercing the hall. Upon the approach of someone with malice in their aura, the runes flare bright green before producing four of Madoka’s five guardians; Lucy, Killer, Ollie, and Jechum, four shadow creatures who have been shaped into the forms of marsupials. Upon reaching the door, you see it for the massive slab of oak it is; reinforced with iron, its craftsmanship gives no sense of threat or foreboding, but one of bovine power. In the center of the door, at the thickness of three red pubic hairs stacked vertically is a small square of parchment that reads, "At the news conference, the Queen's eyes were red in the center" in your native tounge. If, after scratching your head in befuddlement for a moment you knock on the door, call out to the room's owner, or turn to leave, the parchment becomes, leaving a similarly readable smaller brass plaque that says, simply, "that that is isn't that that is not." Canid's Version The Grim Squeaker‘s room Thirty-four feet, five inches and three smallish wood-louse eggs from the kitchen and the replica of a dragon's ear that Canid keeps tucked away in her tunnels, you come to a useless (and to a degree greater even than a white hankerchief when faced with an angry hippopotamus whose infant is currently screaming from where you have confined it in your truck) hallway set in the wall. It is no longer than 5 to the power of the maximum life span of a naked mole rat (in seconds) yards or so, and seems to be built out of gigwillean hypno-cow. Most who traverse it simply gawk in horror at the ornately woven carpet which stretches its length, declaring its' maker's skill in trendy (yet amazingly usefull to anyone who had ever been in a state of weightlessness, facing a 2000-individual army of gigwillean hypno-cows) whites and blood reds, as well as three different shades of sunset pink, as seen by a mostly blind dog. The hall's only other adornments are four gigwillean hypno-cows (with heart disease) that occupy the walls two on each side, and six simple wooden torches set into basic tanned naked mole rat hide frames. The torches are always lit, even in daytime, as non-visible spectrum light has great difficulty piercing the hall. Upon the approach of someone with malice in their mentolabial sulcus, the runes flare bright green before producing four of the Grim Squeaker’s five guardians; Lucy, Killer, Ollie, and festering amoebic slime puddle, four shadow creatures who have been shaped into the forms of galactic super bunnies. Upon reaching the door, you see it for the massive slab of oak it is; reinforced with iron, its craftsmanship gives no sense of threat or foreboding, but one of dismissive power. In the center of the door, at as tall as a 9 foot mouse would be after a small moon broke through the planet's atmosphere and hit it on the head, is a small square of parchment that reads, "evolutionary leftovers are best left alone unless they get infected" in your native tounge. If, after scratching your head in befuddlement for a moment you knock on the door, call out to the room's owner, or turn to leave, the parchment strains, leaving a similarly readable smaller brass plaque that says, simply, "If you give 'em an inch, they'll take a nail." . The Big Pointy One's Version Falcon2K1‘s room 3 lightyears from the kitchen and the Mighty Couch, you come to a big hallway set in the wall. It is no longer than 1-800-MR-BUNNY yards or so, and seems to be built out of lazer beams. Most who traverse it simply snicker at the ornately woven carpet which stretches its length, declaring its' maker's skill in pointy whites and blood reds, as well as three different shades of clear. The hall's only other adornments are four discarded tankards of Duck Brew (Toilet Duck's ale of choice!) that occupy the walls two on each side, and six simple wooden torches set into basic carrot frames. The torches are always lit, even in daytime, as BRIGHT (ow!) light has great difficulty piercing the hall. Upon the approach of someone with malice in their nose, the runes flare bright green before producing four of Falcon2K1’s five guardians; Lucy, Killer, Ollie, and BigPointyStick, four shadow creatures who have been shaped into the forms of cute l'il demon spawns of the high lord Norzhorgahrexx. Upon reaching the door, you see it for the massive slab of oak it is; reinforced with iron, its craftsmanship gives no sense of threat or foreboding, but one of grat power. In the center of the door, at as high as Mt. Everest is a small square of parchment that reads, "..." in your native tounge. If, after scratching your head in befuddlement for a moment you knock on the door, call out to the room's owner, or turn to leave, the parchment stabs, leaving a similarly readable smaller brass plaque that says, simply, "..." [Note: Mr. Bunny's version hasn't been included due to lack of time, but you can feel free to add it in if you'd like.] Salinye's Version Gyrfalcon‘s room The length of a ten foot pole from the kitchen and Annael's Tree, you come to a flirtacious hallway set in the wall. It is no longer than 15 yards or so, and seems to be built out of first born unicorn. Most who traverse it simply spazz at the ornately woven carpet which stretches its length, declaring its' maker's skill in horrifying whites and blood reds, as well as three different shades of mellow moss green. The hall's only other adornments are four wizardesses that occupy the walls two on each side, and six simple wooden torches set into basic velvet frames. The torches are always lit, even in daytime, as rays of sunlight have great difficulty piercing the hall. Upon the approach of someone with malice in their crook of the neck, the runes flare bright green before producing four of Gyrfalcon’s five guardians; Lucy, Killer, Ollie, and peasant, four shadow creatures who have been shaped into the forms of foxes. Upon reaching the door, you see it for the massive slab of oak it is; reinforced with iron, its craftsmanship gives no sense of threat or foreboding, but one of hyperactive power. In the center of the door, at a cubit is a small square of parchment that reads, "Damned if you do. Damned if you don't" in your native tounge. If, after scratching your head in befuddlement for a moment you knock on the door, call out to the room's owner, or turn to leave, the parchment slinks, leaving a similarly readable smaller brass plaque that says, simply, "Could have been worse!" Wrenwind's Version Psimon‘s room 3000 miles from the kitchen and Peredhil's doorstep, you come to a tired hallway set in the wall. It is no longer than 10 yards or so, and seems to be built out of beds. Most who traverse it simply slumber on the ornately woven carpet which stretches its length, declaring its' maker's skill in dissheveled whites and blood reds, as well as three different shades of mauve. The hall's only other adornments are four people that occupy the walls two on each side, and six simple wooden torches set into basic silk frames. The torches are always lit, even in daytime, as sunlight has great difficulty piercing the hall. Upon the approach of someone with malice in their fingertip, the runes flare bright green before producing four of Psimon’s five guardians; Lucy, Killer, Ollie, and James, four shadow creatures who have been shaped into the forms of wolves. Upon reaching the door, you see it for the massive slab of oak it is; reinforced with iron, its craftsmanship gives no sense of threat or foreboding, but one of sexy power. In the center of the door, at 30cm is a small square of parchment that reads, "The pearls floating on the water didn't match" in your native tounge. If, after scratching your head in befuddlement for a moment you knock on the door, call out to the room's owner, or turn to leave, the parchment walks, leaving a similarly readable smaller brass plaque that says, simply, "I am alive." -------- That's all of them... I wrote in the responses in a manner that fit grammatically, and occasionally altered the phrasing of certain sentences in doing so... I find a number of these results hilarious, and hope you will as well. Having said this, that particular Mighty Pen Madlib may be complete... but that shouldn't stop any of you guys from playing with the same concept! I encourage anyone to use the same concept: find another interesting serious story segment, blank out a number of words in it, and come up with a list of terms to post here so that we can play again!

"No!" cries Wyvern frantically, his scaly face paling as Melba closes in. The Almost Secretary's pudgy hands tighten a tie into the form of a noose as she grins evilly and growls: "Here lizard lizard lizard... don't be shy, this will only take a moment. Then, you'll be bound up and gagged in a tux for the rest of the day while I test different recipes of matza ball soup on your immobile form! Eat eat eat, greedy boychick!" Wyvern stutters and shrieks as Melba pounces at him with the tie, barely dodging her grip and scurrying under his desk as she attempts put him into a suit. Crawling out on the other side of his desk and making a dash for the Office exit, Melba attempts to stop him by means of her martial art training in the arts of Tuxedo Sling Fu. Spinning the finely ironed pants she holds above her head in a professional manner, she tosses them at Wyvern and accidentally gets them caught on the lizard's head. "Aiiiiiiie!" cries Wyvern as he dashes out of the office blindly, desperatly trying to pull the pants from off of his head as he careens down the hall. Hearing Melba's footsteps approaching behind him, the overgrown lizard settles for simply unzipping the pant zipper in front of his face so that he can see what's ahead of him in for a quicker escape. Unfortunatly, he finds that Melba is also well-versed in the art of Belt Olympics, as she uses the belt of the suite like a bola and slings them around his legs before he's gotten too far. Whimpering helplessly and crawling forward as best as he can on the ground without the use of his legs, the lizard grows more and more distressed as he hears the Almost Secretary's footsteps growing closer and closer...

Quick note: thanks for contributing, Ayshela and Gwai. I unfortunatly forgot one term on my list near the beginning, "A distance," so be sure to add that one into your lists. These look awesome so far, by the way.