Wyvern

Melba the Almost Secretary of Initiates flattens the wet application poem on her desktop, snickering to herself and drawing comparisons between the new applicant's energy and that of a hurricane. Grinning and marking her personality as a plus point in the application process, she adds the poem to the pile of paperwork accumulating on the desktop and continues her sweeping, glumly awaiting the Elder of Initiates' arrival... After an extremely lengthy period of absence, the door to the Office finally slams open and Wyvern barges in. Frantically rushing up to his desk, the overgrown lizard jumps into his chair and immediatly begins filing through paperwork while mumbling various curses under his breath. Melba sighs and slowly approaches reptilian Elder, waving Kalypso's application in front of his face. "Mr. Wyvern-" "Not now Melba." interrupts Wyvern hastily. "I've got to find my tax return forms in this mess before it's too late!" "I already threw them in the paper shredder..." grumbles Melba, a small grin of victory making it's way across her face. "Here, why don't you look this application over instead... the poor girl's being waiting outside for God-knows-how-long-now." Wyvern sighs and nods, whimpering about his lost documents as he snatches the application from from Melba's hands and reads it over a few times. Nodding and grinning to himself, the overgrown lizard notes that it's well written before reaching into his desk and pulling out an ancient Dwarven Beer Whistle used for calling Elder Dwarves... After Wyvern blows into the instrument, it takes only around five minutes before Bravery the Elder Dwarf arrives in the Office. Courageously jumping into the room by means of the open window, the Dwarf exclaims: "I arrived as quickly as possible from the far ends of the Pen, Elder Wyvern... how may I be of service?" Wyvern grins and hisses, propping his scaly feet onto his desktop as he lazily responds: "Please go fetch the applicant Kalypso... she should be waiting right outside..." Bravery's face goes blank and he grumbles, nodding and marching outside to get Kalypso as he ponders over the reptilian Elder's laziness. After a few moments of searching, he finds the applicant and leads her back into the Office. Wyvern grins to Kalypso as she enters back into the Office and gives her a scaly thumbs up, stamping her application ACCEPTED as he hisses: "Might you be interested in any Almost Dragonic Brand Nightmare Saddles™...?" ;-) OOC: A nicely written and roleplayed application, Kalypso, and a good application poem... Certainly ACCEPTED. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! I apologize for the long wait for a proper response, and hope to read and write more things with you in the future. Once again, welcome!

The Cabaret Room gradually falls into silence as the lights darken and a single spotlight falls onto a stage located at the center of the chamber. Cricket chirps are heard throughout the hall as Wyvern makes his way up to the microphone stand... The sounds quickly die out, however, as the crickets leave after not being paid their chirping fees. Grabbing the microphone and causing it to emit a very loud and irritating screech of distortion in the process, Wyvern speaks up and says: "Thank you, thank you... there's no need to clap your hands on your ears like that, you're too kind! Anyhow, I wanted to thank everyone for coming out this evening, and hope you guys are ready for some awesome jokes." With that, Wyvern whips out a book entitled Almost Dragonic Brand Jokes™ and several members in the audience groan. Flipping through the pages of the book, the overgrown lizard comes across a particular joke and exclaims: "Oh, you guys are gonna love this one... Why did Zool's rubber chicken cross the road?" Silence envelopes the hall for a moment, then Wyvern answers: "Because he saw a female chicken on the other side, and wanted to rub her! Get it? Rubher!" Many people in the audience groan again. Some faint and collapse, others run out of the room screaming in horror. Wyvern flips to the next page of the book. "Here's another one... what did Valdar say to Brute when he was feeling down on his luck?" Another silence envelopes the crowd as they wait in suspense for the lizard's horrible response. Finally, Wyvern answers: "'ear, have another point of booze!" The majority of the crowd grits their teeth while booing and hissing, some searching for projectile weapons to toss... "No, but seriously folks, you're gonna love this one... so, a priest, an Elder Dwarf, and Lord of the Gay are sitting in a bar-" Wyvern is interrupted as a large tomatoe is tossed on stage. This is followed by a package of brussel sprouts, a pineapple, a miniature piano, a grand piano, five sabre-hoof-wielding samurai sheep, and a partridge in a pear tree. All of the items hit Wyvern dead on and knock him off the stage, causing him to fall into an endless pit of bloodthirsty Almost Dragonic Brand Jokebook™ editors. Wyvern screams as the crowd- The text suddenly cuts off as the regularly aired post is replaced by a peacefull nature picture with the word CENSORED written at the top of it. An owl wearily turns it's head as a familiar screaming is heard far off in the background. ;-p

As crowds gather in the Cabaret Room of the Pen, members throw confetti into the air and begin carving Ayshela's beautiful birthday cake while Zool's exclamations ring out loudly and clearly throughout the halls... The sonar vibrations of his magical voice echo far and wide, exiting the simple confines of the Pen and expanding across all corners of the globe... "Happy Happy Birthday!" A flock of doves resting by a lake on a far mountain side are startled by the words, and take flight in a single, beautiful streak of white. "Happy Happy Birthday!" A young child's awkward piano performance is suddenly interrupted as the crowd stands in silent awe of the words, the child greatly relieved that he no longer had to play. "Happy Happy Birthday!" A recently divorced man and woman, both uncertain of their actual emotions, hear the words "Happy Happy" and suddenly decide to passionately embrace one another. "Happy Happy Birthday!" An ocean liner cruising the mid-Atlantic hears the exclamation and the crowd on board cheers. The captain begins honking the horn of the ship to the tune of "Happy Birthday" as the passengers start merrily dancing. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Wyvern fidgets under the covers of his bed, pulling the blankets over his head... he wasn't getting up for nuthin'. "Happy Happy Birthday!" The birthday clowns of the world all turn their heads simultaneously, wondering where the wonderful sound was coming from. "Happy Happy Birthday!" A birdwatcher, noticing a flock of white mountain doves fly by, exclaims back "Indeed, it is a happy happy bird day!" "Happy Happy Birthday!" On a battlefield, two warring kings suddenly both realize that it's their birthday, and decide to call a truce. "Happy Happy Birthday!" At a small cottage in the middle of nowhere, Happy's family are surprised to hear a voice out of nowhere wish him a "Happy Birthday," and begin singing "Happy Birthday to Happy." "Happy Happy Birthday!" Wyvern stirs in his bed again, mumbling to himself... he wished they'd turn the noise down. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Marilyn Monroe's grave suddenly stirs. "Happy Happy Birthday!" An ent sitting in an overgrown forest suddenly lifts it's head and slowly mutters: "Yes... yes... a sappy sappy birthday..." "Happy Happy Birthday!" In a large rocky canyon, the word "Happy" echoes multiple times, causing the bored tourists surrounding it to suddenly brighten up with smiles. "Happy Happy Birthday!" An artist struggling to find inspiration is suddenly hit by the voice, and immediatly decides to make a piece of modern art out of cake frosting. "Happy Happy Birthday!" A mime troop suddenly hears the exclamation, and starts acting out an extremely happy birthday party. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Wyvern tosses and turns, covering his head with a pillow... "Happy Happy Birthday!" A burglar who had just broken into a person's house hears the sound and suddenly notices a birthday cake on the living room table. Feeling a pang of guilt, he decides to turn back. "Happy Happy Birthday!" A group of wiggly cabbages shake and jiggle to the sound, responding through telepathy "Happy Birthday indeed!" "Happy Happy Birthday!" Zool's rubber chicken sticks it's head out of the Ancient's shirt, squacking along to the words. "Happy Happy Birthday!" The alligators wading in the moat outside of the Pen slowly step out and nod, their grins even wider then usual. One of them blows on a moss-covered party favour. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Nyyark's crows suddenly shift around on their branches, perching themselves in a heart formation. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Purple fuzzies barge into the Pen's doors in large numbers, jumping onto the tops of triangular shaped cardboard pieces and creating party hats. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Idly the Elder Dwarf raises a brow curiously and turns towards the source of the sound, abandoning his T.V watching for a split second in the process. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Wyvern wrinkles his sheets, growing more and more irritated by the noise. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Ren and Stimpy pick up on the noise from within Idly's T.V set, and decide to make "Happy Happy Birthday" their new favorite song. "Happy Happy Birthday!" The sheeps in Madoka's training dojo begin baaing to the tune of "Happy Birthday" as they hear the exclamation, doing somersaults and flips to accentuate the joy of the occasion. "Happy Happy Birthday!" A flying saucer loaded with aliens picks up on the sound, and decides that Earth has nothing but birthday parties and that invading would be pointless. "Happy Happy Birthday!" In outerspace above the Earth's atmosphere, an astronaut picks up on the sound and communicates it back to headquarters. It happens to be his director's birthday, and he gets a raise for his thoughtfullness. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Wyvern groans and grits his teeth, shoving his blanket off of his bed. "Happy Happy Birthday!" On Mars, Janus suddenly becomes undepressed. "Happy Happy Birthday!" In the intergalatic balance, the interdimensional party balloons slowly shift into alignment, causing a happiness eclipse. "Happy Happy Birthday!" On Earth, a pregnant woman gives birth to her child just as the happiness eclipse occurs. A Happy Birthday it is. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Scarlett O' Harpy mistakes the exclamation for a "Harpy Birthday", and rapidly digs through her Bag of Random Yet Handy Items for something to wear. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Wyvern jumps out of bed and grumbles, quickly dressing himself. "Happy Happy Birthday!" The sound washes over Ayshela's cake, causing the flavours to become some of the most delicious the members have ever tasted. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Wyvern walks out the door of his room and brushes down his tunic, walking towards the source of the sound. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Rosemary of the Quincunx briefly mistakes Zool's magical exclamation for the dialect of spirits, wondering what the circular rune she stared at could possibly want with dates of birth. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Inspector I. M Clueless pinpoints the sound and decides that in his search for Wyvern, he could treat himself to some cake. The detective then commences to walk in the opposite direction of the sound. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Old threads and new shimmer and shine, the letters and words glowing as they are enveloped by the sound. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Time is briefly reversed by the force of the exclamation, causing it to backtrack towards Peredhil's actual birthday rather than the day after. "Happy Happy Birthday!" The members flooding the room cheer and chant along. "Happy Happy Birthday!" Wyvern suddenly enters and is enveloped by the noise, noticing Peredhil standing beside an enormous birthday cake. Grinning and bowing to the Polite Ancient Bard, the overgrown lizard exclaims with the others: "Happy Happy Birthday!" With that, Zool's exclamations end and the crowd quiets down, each member flattering Peredhil with individual compliments... Wyvern raises a glass to Peredhil, then slips into an available easychair and quickly falls back asleep. ;-)

Author's note: this was inspired by several philosophical texts I've been reading in my Critical Writing class, including those of Saussure, Marx, and Lacan, as well as a number of recent Pen threads. Despite the formulaic way in which it is written, it is not meant to be serious... Hopefully, some folks will get the humor... ;p Quill Upon Page of the Bearer of Pen or Reality in terms of 'Initiate and up' The common notion of the introspection in which those of Initiate and higher view Pen regulatory standards have often been touched upon by subtle means of discussion, yet never given the clarity that such a predominant and important subject should deserve. Indeed, the common outlook of the Initiate has played a crucial role in establishing not only the character and general base of the community, but also the very reality on which the community is founded on. The views of those wishing to establish themselves as a part of the guild system have given birth to the system itself, thus commencing an endless cycle of emotion and conflict that breeds the very writing which we read here today. Several important factors fuel the transformation of outlook towards the community, the suppressed desires and urges leading to the longing for emotional conflict being touched upon by numerous concise evaluations and equations: 1) On Quills As members progress on the promotional scale, the presence of the Quill and it's importance gradually becomes embedded in the member's subconscious mind. More than a writing utensil, the Quill is vastly symbolic, representing the angelic and alluding to a utopian state of mind ideal for creativity. This imbues the member with a sense of purpose, a certain longing to achieve an idealized mental state presented by a false reality. The vision spans across the entire membership spectrum, thus embedding itself alongside the communities social morale and standards of dictation. The "Quest" associated with the Quill further instigates it's sense of importance, even alluding to a certain illusion of task-driven superiority that causes it to become an unreachable summit of performance to Honored Guest and Elder alike. 2) Moderator Matrices With the editting of channels comes the editting of one's own system of beliefs, alterations in mind states that evolve from one's specified personal standards. The influx of moderation commences the process of change, spiritual and emotional, and inner conflict is born. Let us examine the following equation: Square Root of Herald = Page In regard to the system of ranks, this implication states that the multiplicity of Pages and their views in fact spawns the Herald's own will and decisions. Indeed, moderation is ultimately led by the Page, the lower class of the hierarchical political system presented. To unify moderation, the surging of class conflict emerges, and thus inner conflict, the spark of creativity, becomes freely expressed. This cycle then breaks down and continues, oscillating every second promotional schedule. 3) Abbreviations in IRC, the Meaning of With the mingling of class comes the mingling of dialect, a universal transcendent tongue that spans and encomposses all writing present. At an early stage, the common member is unable to seperate itself from the words it expresses, completely unified as one with the Page, and with the Initiate as well. It is only when one comes to gradual understanding of the meaning of comments that he slowly understands his own individual presence. Alone, "lol", "omg", "wb" are cluttered nonsense... together, they form "wombggl", a semi-expressed exclamation of sorts. Yet individuals can experience difficulties in the process of adaptation, which often lead to a vacuum of comments that even the writer himself cannot surmount. Individual Reality Complex is not to be confused with Internet Relay Chat. 4) Master, of Lore The presence and attraction to the "Lore" master can be found within the roots of it's very structure, the word "Lore" originating from the french "l'or", meaning "gold." The association of the title can often lead to the developements of fetishes and the chasing of the material, which represents the ephemeral. This provides an explanation for the transparency associated with the title, and the ultimate meaningless nature of it's existance. For more on geld fetishism, see "Wyvern." 5) Conclusion ... Creativity is key. ;p

Forgotten Soul slowly leans back in his applicant easychair, wondering what could possibly be taking the infamous Elder of Initiates such a long time to arrive and hoping that the "forgotten" part of his name didn't somehow rub off onto his application... Sighing and shifting in his seat, the eager applicant is about to get up and search around for some information on the Elder of Initiates' whereabouts when suddenly, the door to the Recruiter's Office slams open and Wyvern frantically rushes into the room... Rapidly bowing to Forgotten Soul and apologizing for his lateness, the reptilian Elder rushes over to his desk and drops a large sack that he's carrying onto it... Quickly shuffling through the numerous papers littered on his desktop until he finally comes across "The Wish", the overgrown lizard reads over the application poem carefully several times before turning towards Forgotten Soul and hissing: "Cccertainly an acceptable piece of writing, Forgotten Soul... but before I accept your application, allow me to offer you something that you might find to your liking..." Forgotten Soul raises a brow curiously as Wyvern snickers and rummages through his sack with a scaly claw, pulling out a bottle made of ivory after a short search. Pointing at the bottle and flashing one of his deadly "wannabe salesman" grins, the greedy reptile hisses: "Tired of being forgotten? Well... this little puppy can cure all your woes! Introducing: Wyvern Brand Memory Plus Formula™, 30% guaranteed to increase people's memory." Forgotten Soul stares at Wyvern in a confused manner and is about to speak up when the overgrown lizard continues: "Each potion has been bottled in the ivory of an elephant that never forgot! Wyvern Brand Memory Plus Formula™ comes in three delicious flavors: Strawberry Suppression, Banana Amnesia, and Fruitblend Flashback! So... forget about the price and order yours today!" "Wyvern..." responds Forgotten Soul, relieved to see that the overgrown lizard has finally ran out of breath and that he has a moment to speak. "I'm actually not interested in memory potions at the moment, particularly those that are only 30% guaranteed... I rather like to think of myself as forgotten." Wyvern grumbles and nods to this, tossing the ivory bottle back into his overflowing sack of goods and stamping Forgotten Soul's application "ACCEPTED." ;-) OOC: A good application poem, Forgotten Soul... certainly ACCEPTED. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! I apologize for the large waiting period, and hope that you find us a welcoming and friendly creative writing community.

I'm also enjoying this so far and am looking forward to seeing how it developes, Valdar. I particularly like the nonchalant and comic tone you use to describe mass destruction, it definitely adds to the comedy of the piece. In terms of possible improvements: like Alaeha pointed out, apart from the scene where Wyvern makes the money deal, there has been a lot of "telling" and not too much "showing." I would suggest adding in more scenes in which characters interact and action happens and less descriptions of things that have already happened. Can't wait for the continuation! I'm honored that Wyvern got a part in selling out Terra, by the way, and am doubly honored that he got 50 geld pieces for it! Yessssss...

Kaleyra strides past Myth swiftly, barely hearing the assassin's words as the adamant determination present on her visage hardens. Suddenly stopping in her steps and reluctantly glancing over her shoulder at the inert form of Gyrfalcon, the avian scholar turns her eyes towards Myth and quietly mutters: "He... needed some rest..." Myth raises a brow curiously at this statement, further intrigued as she notices the tint of Kaleyra's eyes... There was now a deep sadness present in them... perhaps even a hint of despair... "He'll be safe here." continues Kaleyra, her voice now far more firm and ringing with determination. Turning towards the opening at the end of the tunnel and dashing towards it before Myth can so much as speak, the scholar exclaims: "We'll secure the Pool and then immediatly return for him, let's hurry!" Myth is once again shocked by the avian's will and air of determination, offended that the scholar should suddenly take charge of the situation yet never the less respecting her more by the minute. Quickly nodding, the assassin follows Kaleyra and sprints towards the end of the passage... Arriving at the open gateway where the underground passageway cuts off, the two heros are somewhat surprised as they enter into an enormous rocky cavern. There are no statues, no symbols, no carved pillars or domed ceilings... Instead, the chamber is a gargantuan cave, a place untouched by mankind's industrial hand. Huge stalactites hang from the ceiling, menacingly glaring down at the uneven rocky floor below. From the far end of the room, Kaleyra and Myth catch sight of a single civilized-looking structure, their eyes brightening as they see it... It was a rock formation that had been carved into what appeared to be the shape of a well. Above it, a droplet of water falls from a stalactite and silently hits the pool present below... The Pool of Eternal Reflection. Kaleyra breaks into a grin and happily exclaims: "We've found it... the Pool!" Running towards the well and almost tripping over the rocky ground in the process, the avian scholar stops half-way through the chamber as she suddenly notices that Myth is not following her and is staring at something by the rock formation. Following the assassin's line of sight, Kaleyra suddenly notices a detail that deals a devastating blow to her already deteriorated hopes... Surrounding the edges of the well of the Pool lie the bones of several aged skeletons... "Surprised...?" chimes a familiar, charismatic voice from the opposite end of the chamber. Both Kaleyra and Myth immediatly turn towards the source of the voice, only to be met by a figure they immediatly recognized... A handsome man cloaked in a black monk robe and wearing a yellow bandana... Jagon. --------------- "I'm here, it's alright..." continues Timothy at the outer walls of the Temple, stroking one hand through the back of Elena's hair and holding her tightly as he let his tunic soak in her tears. "I'll stay here with you..." A long moment passes in which neither adventurer speaks, the two of them almost relishing the connection brought about by their interchange of agony. Finally, Elena lifts her face from Timothy's chest and directs her bloodshot eyes towards his... She stares at him for a long moment before softly responding: "No..." Timothy stares back in a mixture of sympathy and confusion and responds: "What...?" "Your friends..." continues Elena meekly "... your companions are counting on you. You should join them, fight alongside them against the greater evil." "But Elena-" "I'll be here..." she interrupts "... alive when you get back. I promise. Now go, please..." Timothy stares at Elena for a long moment, then reluctantly nods and lifts himself from where she lies, adjusting his scabbard and making sure his sword is fully secured in it. The brave historian's left eye was beginning to sting a bit, but frankly he didn't care. It seemed so insignificant when placed in context of the grander scheme of things... "Timothy..." mutters Elena softly as he turns to towards the Temple entrance. "... one last thing." "Yes...?" "Please come back... return. For me." Timothy silently nods and wipes the remaining grime and tears from his face, gritting his teeth as he musters all of his strength and dashes into the Temple, swiftly following the footprints of Gyrfalcon... ----------- "I must say that I'm slightly disappointed..." continues Jagon in his soothing voice while eyeing both Kaleyra and Myth in the cavern chamber. "I would have thought that experienced scholars and heros such as yourselves might resist the temptation of the Pool, the sense of unreachable security and comfort it brings, the ideal notion of the insurmountable truth one can kind find within. I suppose that in the end, you are all alike, no different than the men and women who's bones now litter these premises..." Kaleyra frowns and stares at Jagon with a hint of anger present on her visage, the words "security" and "comfort" leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. Speaking up, she responds: "We are here to secure the Pool from your grasp, Jagon... now step away." Myth nods to this, pacing forward to join Kaleyra while placing a hand on the hilt of her dagger. "'Secure' the Pool?" responds Jagon, a grin making it's way across his face. The cloaked scholar's aura of charm is momentarily shattered as he lets out a laugh that echoes throughout the chamber. Though not forced, Jagon's laughter is the polar opposite of the soothing nature of his speech, echoing hollowly and leaving the adventurers with a feeling of discomfort. There was no joviality, no peace in that laugh. "If only you realized the irony of what you've just said..." chimes Jagon in a semi-whisper, his right hand slowly reaching through the back of his hair towards the knot of his yellow bandana. "... the Pool is least secure when placed in the hands of humans." With that, the knot holding Jagon's yellow bandana on his forehead becomes completely undone. The headscarf quietly drops to the floor, revealing the "religious scholar"'s visage in it's entirety... Kaleyra gasps and takes a step back while Myth's eyes slowly widen... On Jagon's forehead there rests a third eye, currently shut. The closed eyelid throbs slightly, beating in accordance with Jagon's heart... "A demon...?" manages Kaleyra softly. Upon hearing the avian scholar's reaction, Jagon laughs once again, louder and harder then before. Whereas the first laugh had caused a feeling of discomfort, this one emanated an aura of fear. The hollow echoes seemed to suggest a man on the brink of insanity, and the noise slightly stinged the adventurers' ears... "The irony is quite overwhelming..." responds Jagon in a slightly less charming manner than before "... that you should be so close to the truth, yet still so far from it! The tragic fault of humankind, is it not? Well..." Jagon pauses for a moment, a confident smile making it's way across his face as he looks towards Kaleyra, then Myth. "You came for clarity, thus I shall shed it's light upon you." With that, the two adventurers jump back as Jagon's third eye flicks open, causing the chamber to suddenly become immersed in a blinding light. Kaleyra and Myth fall over and clutch their eyes in pain as the light flares in the room and throughout the passageway leading to it, brightening even the room with the stained glass domed ceiling and causing it to radiate beautiful colors. After a long moment, the light passes and the two adventurers squint and fidget in their positions, noticing that the familiar figure of Jagon is no more... Where Jagon once stood now stands a majestic figure, bathed in divine radiance and unspeakable beauty. A shining armor of purest gold and silver adorns his firm chest, a platinum cross embedded on it's front plate. Six enormous angelic wings sprout from his back, three on each side, their feathers white as the Heavens themselves. The third eye on his forehead radiates and shines like a morning star, never shutting... forever gazing into the vastness of eternity. Above his head of fine silver hair burns a dim circular light.. a halo. "I-" manages Kaleyra meekly from her position, not mustering the appropriate words to say as she stares at the divine figure. Myth doesn't move or speak, her eyes locked on the figure's appearence... "I am Jagon." booms the seraphim in a regal voice, spreading his wings broadly so that they are clearly seen. "Arriving here has been part of my destiny, a destiny that has nearly been fufilled. I was sent from the farest reaches of the Heavens with a mission... to view the current state of humankind and to bring back news of it's progress." He pauses, silent for a moment before continuing: "However, I have been disgusted to find nothing here but false idols, greed and selfishness. I decided to take matters into my own hands, to judge humanity for the corruption it has caused... I have found only one cure for this: humankind's ultimate destruction." Jagon smiles and waves one hand through the air. "This 'Pool' which you seek, this 'bringer of life' is in fact nothing more than a grave. Centuries ago, in the early years of humankind's existance, the great sea beast Leviathan laid waste to cultures and civilizations, eliminating everything in it's monstrous path. Here is where it rests in eternal sleep." An expression of shock enters onto Kaleyra's face as she suddenly recalls the fate of the majority of her race, engulfed by a "tsunami" caused by oscillations on the ocean's floor... "I have come to awaken him..." continues Jagon "To restart the process of elimination and lay waste to humanity. You and your kind are doomed... May I suggest using your last moments on this Earth for prayer." "No way..." responds Myth suddenly, lifting herself to her feet and glaring at the seraphim. "I'm not about to let humanity die off... I haven't been paid yet." "We can't allow such a monster to be ressurected..." growls Kaleyra as she too stands up. "Angel or not, you have no right to unleash such a fate on the world..." Jagon stares at the two heros in a mixture of anger and amusement, stating: "I am no mere angel, I am a seraphim... a second-hand to only the most powerful of deities. Am I to understand that you wish to face me? Absurd..." "Not so absurd when you don't see us backing down, is it?" responds Myth while drawing one of her daggers and glaring at him. An awkward moment of silence passes... "Fools!" finally booms Jagon, his voice now ringing with anger. "You cannot stop what destiny has dictated! If you wish to waste your lives and be the first to fall, then so be it! Behold!" With that, the seraphim raises his right hand to the sky and energy suddenly begins filtering into it. Slowly, a sword of light materializes into his hand. "Gaspoliner, the sword of faith itself! Pray you petty creatures, for these breaths shall be your last..."

Pulsing, slivering they quiver Slipping upon foamy oil Through the dark they slide and shiver In natural turmoil. In conflict, they rub and brush Twisting, heated till they boil Intertwined in such a rush Their crimson colors soil. They bend and press, locking tight Wrestling, they fight and toil Bathed in filth, their will and might Give way to combat spoiled. The lips unlock, the embrace ends The tongues exit their duel Disgust remains, for love depends On bitter-tasting drool.

I liked the poem as well, Appy... In terms of what it seems to be about: in the first stanza of the poem, the narrator describes a certain powerful event of the past that disturbs her rest and hinders her through everyday life. Then, as the poem progresses, the tone shifts and becomes more optimistic as she notes that she'll rely on hope and put an end to the event's haunting her. Thus, the poem might ultimately be about relying on hope and optimism to overcome the dark event's of one's past... Interesting structure too! Nicely done.

A very good, strongly-themed poem, Nyyark... I particularly liked the lines "And now the war was fought/ And the stagnation reset," and can certainly relate to the underlying message of the work. I also liked the reference of "Eyes" always looking "to the sky" as it seems to suggest elements of 9/11, which America has yet to recover from even after "Years have passed like days..." One part of the poem which you may want to improve on is the third line of the final stanza, which seems to be a bit off in terms of syllabel structure and doesn't flow quite as well as the rest of the piece. Perhaps "That nothing is completed" would work better...? Well done.

When Ariella Terranzus abandonned her past to join the Serrated Scale, she was 18 years old. The first time Ariella arrived at the front gates of the guild's headquarters, she considered turning back and abandonning her plans due to the buildings rather menacing appearence. The two statues of lions looming in front of it's marble steps seemed to emanate a silent growl, and the pillars supporting it's foundation seemed to suggest that acceptence was a platform impossible for her to reach. Yet Ariella was determined, driven by her will to gain recognition amongst assassins, and decided to ascend the marble steps towards her ambivalent destiny. Entering through the arched gateway into the enormous building, Ariella was initially shocked by the interior appearence of the headquarters. Far from the training dojo she had vividly imagined, the building bore more of a ressemblence to a townshouse than anything else. A dusty smell of old books was dominant in the air, and the corridors were silent apart from the light echo of footsteps and the occasional soft-spoken whisper. As she slowly walked down the central corridor of the building and searched for some signs of a registrar, Ariella was suddenly caught off guard by a strong yet thoroughly fluid voice behind her: "Excuse me, miss..." She turned and was greeted by a tall man wearing a dark cloak that had an emblem of a blade etched onto it. The man had a head of rugged black hair and a small goatee that stretched underneath his long, crooked nose. His eyes flashed in a wild hue of blue as he looked Ariella in the eyes and continued: "May I help you with something?" Ariella stood silent for a moment, unable to believe that she hadn't noticed the man approaching her, before responding: "Yes... I'm searching for a guild known as the Serrated Scale, though I fear I may have stumbled across the wrong building..." The man let out a quiet laugh before responding: "No, you're in the correct place, I can assure you... What brings you here? Are you visiting a relative, or...?" Ariella cleared her throat out and tried to bravely air her purpose, only to find herself unable to speak... There was something about the hue of the man's eyes that corroded her determination, that made her feel uneasy and prevented her from talking. After a few minutes of awkward silence, the man spoke up again: "I take it you're a visitor then... perhaps one that has lost a relative in the field of duty...?" Before Ariella could attempt to respond, a plump figure across the hall waved a hand towards her inquisitor and rudely exclaimed: "Hey Histmark, what are you up to?" As he approached them, Ariella eyed the plump man curiously. He was short, standing at only around 5'8, and wore dirty purple robes that dragged across the ground as he walked. Ever so often, the man would trip a bit over part of his outfit, which caused him to frequently readjust his spectacles... "Have you heard from Cleamer or Rufus yet? Hey, who's she...?" Histmark turned his eyes towards his associate and responded: "Hi Jud... nothing from Cleamer or Rufus yet. As for her, she seems to be-" "I-" interrupted Ariella, diverting her attention from Histmark's eyes long enough to muster speech "...am Ariella Tarranzus. And I'm here in the hopes of applying to become a member of your honorable guild." Histmark and Jud both stared at her in disbelief for a long moment before the former finally shook his head and responded: "Sorry, we have no need for weak-willed individuals here..." "I thought as much..." answered Ariella "But before you overlook me, know that my former aunt's name was Gretha Tarranzus. As I'm sure you know, she was a fine diplomat of the Sherashi..." Jud nodded sagely while Histmark smirked and shrugged, murmering: "And...? She's passed away, the lineage is now nothing more than a bloodtie, you have no diplomatic immunity or special benefits from it... I'm sorry, but it's simply out of the question..." With that, Histmark nodded to his companion Jud, who tipped his hat and muttered "Good day, ma'am" before walking off down the corridor with his associate, abandonning her. Yet before the two men were completely out of sight, a surge of anger rushed through Ariella's blood and she firmly exclaimed: "I was there when she died!" Histmark suddenly stopped walking off, noticing the change in the tone of Ariella's voice. It was strong and determined... far more interesting then the non-existant tone she had used while conversing with him. "I was ignored then!" continues Ariella, a growing anger present in her voice as her fists clenched and her eyes flared. "And I refuse to be ignored now!!!" Histmark exchanged a glance with Jud, then turned and walked back towards Ariella. Crossing his arms over his chest, the assassin growled: "Are you willing to abandon all of those dear to you? All of your homes? Essentially, all of your past?" Ariella turned her eyes directly towards Histmark's and locked in a gaze so cold and powerful that even he was impressed. "I have no past..." A small smile made it's away across Histmark's face. "Then perhaps something can be arranged..."

I liked this story as well, Sorciere, and thought that the concept was well-thought out and nicely executed. I particularly liked when Ellie mistook the dark cloud and the rumble for a storm only to find out that it was in fact her town being destroyed... The word-choice is very good at times as well, as we really get a feel that it's Ellie's story throughout... As Jareena Faye said, one thing you might try to improve to make the story even better is to correct certain grammatical/spelling faults, particularly run-on sentences. For example, in this sentence: "They were supposed to go to her aunt's at the beach that afternoon but papa had decided to stay one more day to finish his work, she hated papa's work, but mommy said it's what put food in her tummy, so when he asked if she minded waiting just one more sleep, she had not objected at all." Numerous thoughts are expressed, and they should be divided into seperate sentences or seperated by means of semi-colons. Once again, very enjoyable story overall.

Wyvern quietly tip-toes into the Cabaret Room hooded in a dark cloak, and is only seen by the ever-attentive ntraveler2 as he swiftly wanders up to Lelu and whispers: "Y'know Lelu... here at the Pen, we don't have any particular alcohol rules... Just ask any time you'd like, and I can serve you a large helping of Bruteweiser Booze™ from the Endless Decanter. In fact, as an associate of Brute, you get extra-large servings...!" Lelu slowly grins and begins to nod and giggle, causing ntraveler2 to frown and become wary. Having heard of Wyvern's mischief and not wanting him to wreck more havoc on the Pen, the Politically Correct Immortal quickly flips through the pages of her "Revolutionary Magical Theory of the Previous Age" tome and comes across the spell "Sound Alarm." Grinning to herself while chanting, the powerfull sorceress casts the ancient spell on the overgrown lizard... Wyvern snickers to himself and is about to mention a variety of Bruteweiser-related cocktails he enjoys making when suddenly, the tip of his tail transforms into a firealarm and starts ringing loudly. Staring in disbelief and cursing to himself, the lizard rushes to make a swift getaway from the hall, only to accidentally crash into a group of Elder Dwarves who are carrying a load of musical instruments. This load includes several cymbols and chimes, which ring loudly as he crashes into them. Wyvern screams and curses as he runs, passing by a Pen loudspeaker as he does so and accidentally airing his vulgarity to the rest of the Pen... OOC: Welcome to the Mighty Pen, Lelu Asana. Glad to see you with us.

The whole room trembles slightly as the door to the bar suddenly swings open and Wyvern barges into the chamber at full-speed, dragging a large coat rack in along with him. Arriving at the spot where Kayleana, Wylde, and Loki Wyrd are sipping their ales, the overgrown lizard quickly whips out the Decanter of Endless Booze and pours each of them a free glass of Bruteweiser Beer™ before exclaiming: "Greetings Kayleana, Wylde, and Loki Wyrd... allow me to introduce myself. I'm Wyvern, also known as the Elder of Initiates as well as the Pen member with the best bargains this side of Terra! Now that you've indulged in some of my free booze, allow me to propose to you some fantastic offers on new coats!" Having said this, the greedy reptile drags the coat rack he has with him in front of Kayleana and hisses: "Kayleana... I think that this rhinocerous-skin coat would suit you fine, and it's guaranteed to protect you from the rain!" Kayleana raises a brow curiously as Wyvern pulls out an extremely ugly looking grey uniform from the rack. Glancing at the price tag on the coat, Kayleana's eyes widen and her jaw drops open, noticing that the tag is a foot long in length due to the number of digits in the cost. "Best bargains this side of Terra?!" exclaims Kayleana. "Why, for half of this price I could hire a safari to hunt down a rhino and get an expert coat designer to make a uniform for me!" Wyvern grumbles and sighs, nodding and hanging the jacket back where he found it on the rack. Turning to Wylde and Loki Wyrd, the lizard mutters: "So... Would anyone be interested in a hippo-skin night gown or an emu-feather overcoat...?" ;-) OOC: Welcome, Kayleana, Wylde, and Loki Wyrd.

Wyvern adds to Valdar's speal by noting that in those days, you had to stick a crowbar into a smiley faces mouth just to make it smile, and that you had to skirmish through junkyards for dead birds just to get a quill... AND WE LIKED IT!!! In terms of other sites, you may want to check the Pen's List of Useful Links where a number of sites are listed, though I'm not sure how many of them are larger than the Pen. Truth be told, my choice of communities rests on the basis of the wonderful individuals present in them rather than the number, and in that regard I don't think the Pen can be topped... Having said this, Wyvern tips his tattered hat to ntraveler2 and notes that Valdar's post had him practically rolling across the floor in laughter...

Meanwhile, within the Temple of Isaiis, Kaleyra and Myth finally arrive at the end of their long trek through the narrow escape tunnel, exiting it and entering into a very small, confined room made of finely carved stone. Hundreds of strange and obscure symbols completely cover the walls of the chamber, and Kaleyra barely has time to stretch her legs before turning towards the walls and running her fingers over the strange designs in fascination... Myth, who had grown rather tired of ancient enscriptures at this point, sighs and mutters: "We don't have any time for looking over pictures now, Bird Lady... we need to find the Pool, remember?" The assassin grumbles something under her breath as she scans the tiny chamber in it's entirety, adding: "I don't see any doorways either... great, this is probably just some place people went to hide out in. So much for our plan..." "It can't be..." notes Kaleyra while still examining a line of writing in amazement. "The symbols on the outdoor escape route entrance clearly depicted it leading into the Temple, as do the symbols here..." Myth sighs and shakes her head, rapidly growing tired of the avian scholar's obsession with ancient culture and wishing she could just find the damn Pool and get off the island. Slumping against the nearest wall in the hopes of resting for a moment, the assassin accidentally triggers a mechanism hidden there. Much to the pleasant surprise of the two adventurers, the wall that Kaleyra is examining slowly shifts open to reveal another, much larger chamber... Myth and Kaleyra both step into the enormous room and examine it for a moment, intaking it's majestic appearence. The high domed ceiling of the room seemed to be largely made of stained glass, on which many beautiful pictures of angels holding wine goblets were depicted. At the center of the large circular span of the room there is a hole in the ground around which several symbols have been written. Directly above the hole rests a statue of a singing angel, and a ladder extends from the angel's hands down into the depths of the hole. Two open passageways also connect into the room from the East and West ends of the chamber, and Myth immediatly notices a set of footprints from the West end leading up to the ladder, where they stop. "Damn it..." growls Myth while rushing towards the ladder in the center of the room and yelling towards Kaleyra. "Come on, let's hurry! Looks like someone may have beat us to it!" Kaleyra stands startled for a moment, still uncertain if what she's doing is the right thing... Hesitating and then beginning to run after Myth, the avian scholar comes to a sudden stop as she notices a figure arriving at the passageway opening of the West end of the room... Gyrfalcon, who had just arrived in the room and caught Kaleyra's attention, suddenly notices the avian scholar. The two adventurers simply stare at each other from across the room in silence for a long moment...

Janus' probe began to twirl as it careened through space, rapidly spinning as it entered into Mars' gravitational field. The probe picked up heat as it passed through the radically changing atmosphere, nearly bursting into flames as it began approaching the planet's surface. Fortunatly, the technocult had built the probe to withstand such natural hazards, and Janus ended up landing safely on Mars' surface, acting as a flagship of humanity's perserverence. That's where the troubles started... It's important to note at this point that the participant that had chosen to sacrifice his humanity to act as a central component of Janus had been an avid American patriot, willing to serve and protect his country at any cost. He had fought in Iraq, as well as in several of the pre-wars that had led to the final global confrontation. The soldier had chosen to pilote the probe as it seemed a noble and patriotic action to take... Scientists had even informed him that he would play a central role in saving his country should he participate in the project. Yet now, stranded on Mars with the purpose of restarting civilization from the beginning, Janus found himself overcome by a deep sense of longing and regret. The notion that abandoning his homeworld had been an act of cowardice slowly crept into his neural circuits, and the probe gradually grew depressed... This deep depression had an enormous effect on the lifeforms Janus produced, as even while looking into the future the probe could not overcome the regrets of the past. The races the probe spawned were feeble ones, passive and lackluster in their traits to the extent that it took no more than a few years for them to go extinct. And thus, as milennias passed, Janus was doomed to witness his own continual failures and suffer an eternity of depression...

Wyvern quickly strides into the Cabaret Room, pulling a set of turntables and a box of dusty old records along with him. Setting up the music device in the lefthand corner of the room and whipping out one of the records from the crate, Wyvern turns towards Racouol and exclaims: "Happy birthday, Racouol! In honor of this special day, I've decided to play a set of Racouollette singles for the crowd to hear. Enjoy!" Having said this, the overgrown lizard snickers to himself and makes sure that his merchandise table of ear plugs is clearly visible to the crowd, plugging a set into his own ears before putting on the first single and simultaneously destroying all of the Cabaret Room's windows in the process... ;-) OOC: Happy birthday, Racouol! Hope you had a great 23rd.

Wyvern whistles to himself in an innocent manner as he paces down the corridor leading to the Recruiter's Office, checking off various items on a "Consumer Report Checklist" he's carrying as he briskly arrives at the office door. Sticking the checklist back into the left pocket of his coat while pulling out another legal document from his garmets, the overgrown lizard snickers to himself sinisterly as he pushes open the door and steps into his office. Upon entering, the reptilian Elder immediatly turns towards Regel and Wrenwind, who are tasting wine and nibbling on expensive cheeses, and exclaims: "Greetings Regel! Glad you could make it... thanks for keeping him company, Wren. Now then, let's get down to business shall we?" Regel nods eagerly as Wyvern pulls up an extra chair and takes a seat at the table... The applicant watches in disgust as Wyvern quickly pockets an entire plate of cheeses while stuffing numerous appetizers in his mouth and mumbling: "First of all *munch* great poem *gobble* certainly *slurp* acceptable material..." Regel's face brightens up as he hears this, and the eager applicant immediatly exclaims: "So I'm accepted to the Pen?! That's gre-" "Not so fast..." interrupts Wyvern in a sinister tone. "Before I can accept your application, we must discuss the negotiations presented in the contract of your using my name in your introduction thread on the Pen. As Alaeha mentioned, it doesn't come without a price..." A glum look suddenly comes over Regel's face, which causes Wrenwind to look up and exclaim: "Hey, wait a minute... I don't recall there being any prices for using na-" "There is now!" interrupts Wyvern, grabbing the bottle of fine wine resting on the table and downing half of it in a single gulp. "Don't worry, the price isn't all that much... all I ask for is the AoA mud wrestling ring, the Grinch, a couple of pounds of chocolate, Wench, and about three jumbo truckloads of beer pretzles." Regel and Wrenwind gaze at Wyvern with blank expressions, unable to believe that he's actually serious in his demands. "Of course, if you're feeling generous, you might also want to throw in a few more pounds of chocolate and a couple of tabloid magazines..." continues Wyvern greedily while propping his scaly feet up onto the tabletop and knocking over several plates neatly arranged there in the process. "After you've given me the merchandise, you'll be accepted-" Wyvern is suddenly interrupted as the door to the Recruiter's Office is kicked open by Melba, the Almost Secretary of Initiates, who races into the office as fast as her legs can carry her. Lifting a gigantic "Anti-Wyvern Mallet" she's holding, the tempered secretary immediatly bashes the reptilian Elder over the head with it, sending him into a state of unconsciousness. Grabbing the legal document from out of Wyvern's hands and swiftly tearing it up, Melba apologizes to both Regel and Wrenwind before stamping Regel's application ACCEPTED and racing out of the Office to perform yet another Herculean task... ;-p OOC: On a more serious note, Regel, this is an excellent poem... I particularly liked the vivid imagery and the way you ended it. Very well done, and definitely ACCEPTED... Welcome to the Mighty Pen! About time you found your way over here, I knew your creativity couldn't stay concealed for too long.. ;-)

Tattered frowns and sighs when he hears that the reptilian Elder of Initiates' absences are measured in months, leaning back in his applicant easychair and grumbling to himself as he grabs the nearest issue of "Life's a Witch" and begins flipping through it. The eager applicant is about to skim over an article on "101 Ways to Use a Broomstick" when suddenly, a scampering sound is heard in the hall outside of the Office and Wyvern comes barging into the room at full speed. Clenching a pamphlet in his right claw and panting for breath, the overgrown lizard turns towards Tattered, Melba, and Peredhil and exclaims: "There's been a horrible mistake! It says on this pamphlet that it'll often take me around a month to get to application responses! Anybody who truly knows me and my sense of responsibility should know better... a month?! Don't be ridiculous... it should read a YEAR!" With that, the overgrown lizard lets out a gale of evil laughter and turns to race out of the Office, only to find the exit door blocked off by the menacing form of Melba. Cursing to himself and slowly backing away from the Almost Secretary of Initiates, the lizard cringes as she opens the latest issue of "How to Nag From actual Mother-in-Laws" and exclaims: "Why haven't you responded to Tattered's application? What's more, why haven't you cleaned your desk?! The least you could do is seperate the mudslide of paperwork into 'business' and 'personal' sections..." "Argh!!!" cries Wyvern, clutching his ears in pain as Melba continues. "Not paperwork...! Make it stop!" "Honestly, there are times when I wonder how you were raised as a hatchling..." continues Melba, shaking a finger at the overgrown lizard as she reads from the magazine with glee. "Now get to responding to applications, before we think of some way to limit your supply of booze as a punishment..." Wyvern continues steadily backing away from Melba as she speaks, and ends up bumping into Peredhil in the process. Turning towards the polite ancient with a frenzied look of anxiety in his eyes, Wyvern hisses: "Peredhil! Help me!" The Ancient Bard crosses his arms over his chest and politely responds: "The solution is quite simple, Wyvern... all you need to do is respond to Tattered's application poem, and Melba will immediatly stop her nagging." A disappointed look makes it's way onto Melba's face as Wyvern is suddenly overcome with relief. Turning towards Tattered and swiftly bowing to the honoured applicant, the reptilian Elder immediatly sets about looking over his application. Having finished this, the lizard grins and hisses: "Great poem... ssssssay, the first two lines of this piece would work excellently for a soothing medecine commercial..." Melba holds her magazine high in the air before Wyvern can continue, however, and the lizard immediatly stamps Tattered's application ACCEPTED. ;-) OOC: On a more serious note, a good application poem Tattered... certainly ACCEPTED! Welcome to the Mighty Pen, I hope you'll enjoy writing with us and look forward to reading more of your pieces. My apologies for the wait... once again, welcome!

Wyvern trods along sleepily over the shadow paths with the rest of the crowd, whistling to the tune of "9,999,999,999,999,999 Bottles of Beer on the Wall (Brute Drunken Dance remix)" while munching on a bag of chips supposedly saved for the big party... Lazily reaching into his tunic and pulling out the Decanter of Endless Booze, the overgrown lizard immediatly begins filling a variety of empty containers with it's contents in preperation for the gift that he had gotten for Brute... booze, and a whole heck of a lot of it. Pulling out a spare tissue from his left pocket along with a Quill, the overgrown lizard quickly scribbles an I.O.U stating that Brute would have the Decanter as soon as Wyv found this blasted Ezoob place, hoping the legendary drunkard would be able to read his nearly-illegable almost dragonic handwriting on the tissue. Sighing to himself and pocketing the I.O.U for when they arrive at the mansion, the lizard notes it's a shame that he couldn't give the artifact back on this occasion... Elsewhere, numerous Elder dwarves march along with the crowd that has gathered, each of them wearing a party hat and a few of them blowing balloons. Greedy was making dollar sign shaped balloons, Shiny was making glittery balloons, Courteousy was making non-offensive balloons, and Sexy... well, let's not talk about the kind of things that Sexy's balloons ressembled. ;p Even Idly the Elder Dwarf had joined the crowd for this occasion, transporting his lounge chair and television set with him... As Brute's mansion grows closer in the distance, a large cheer rings from the crowd...

Wyvern quickly strides into the Cabaret Room, immediatly taking notice of Alaeha and hearing her curious question directed towards Regel. Turning towards the Saddened Spellsinger and snickering to himself gleefully, the overgrown lizard whispers: "We haven't worked out a contract yet... but Regel has lots of chocolate, so I'm convinced that he has the means to pay for it!" Regel raises a brow curiously at Wyvern as he turns towards the Apocalyptic Angel and exclaims: "Regel! It's excellent to see you writing here... Your flight from the rough winds of Terra was not too exhausting, I hope? Please make yourself at home, sit on one of the comfortable easychairs, have a few glasses of Bruteweiser Booze™, and immerse yourself in the excellent writing found in these halls. I hope we'll eventually get to see some creative writing from you as well... after all, the "I am not a writer" argument is what they always say at first..." ;p Regel sighs to himself and shakes his head as Wyvern whips out the Endless Decanter and pours him a full glass of booze... some things never changed... ;-) OOC: Great to see you here, Regel... I hope you've enjoyed what you've read so far, and that you'll find the Pen an open and welcoming community.

Elsewhere, directly outside of the Temple of Isaiis, Timothy and Elena continue to frantically defend against the seemingly endless hordes of determined zombies approaching... "Damn it all!" cries Timothy, gritting his teeth as he lances his blade into a zombies left eye while elbowing another in the face. "There's no end to them! Elena, we need to retreat into the Temple!!!" Timothy recieves no response from Elena, however, as she is too caught up in the heat of battle to hear his words. Striking down several zombies at once and grimacing as she turns to counter another blow, the most Elena can manage to utter is another battle cry. "We can't keep it up like this, do you hear me?!!!" screams Timothy, his voice getting hoarse from shouting and his arms growing weary from the continous combat. "Elena?!!!" Elena lets out a war cry as she swings her staff to crack open a rotten skull. She is about to turn and face yet another of the mindless creatures when suddenly, she notices the features of a particular zombie and can only stop in sudden shock. Elena recognized the figure even in his current deformity... it was Fruu, a friend of Jakob's at the monestary. "Elena??!!!!" Elena catches the sound of Timothy's voice just as the zombie that had previously been Fruu stabs a piece of a broken pole directly into the center of her chest. The island guardian grimaces, clutching at the pole in a mixture of pain and fury as she gasps. Timothy has time to catch a glimpse of Elena's current situation between parrying the blows of two zombies, and immediatly tries to break free from his deadlock to rush to her aid. Unfortunatly, he fails to do so and is instead knocked over by the blow of a zombie behind him... The creature lifts the large hammer it's holding, prepared to deal a final blow to the helpless historian... But then, suddenly, it all comes to a standstill. The zombies cease to advance, dropping their weapons as their eyes grow dimmer in their whiteness. With Kraisis fallen, the strength Celestia had imbued in her minions now passed out of their lifeless shells, their power being connected to her lover's own. One by one the creatures fall back into the heaps of carcasses they truly are, never to move again... Lifting himself from the ground in pain and practically tripping over a corpse in his dizziness, Timothy has no time to celebrate the unexpected victory as he rushes towards his wounded companion... "Elena! Are you hurt?! How bad is it?!" Elena grimaces and twitches in pain, her hands still firmly grasping the pole embedded in her chest. Mustering what strength and durability remains in her, the island guardian slowly pulls the pole out of her body, screaming in pain as she does so. As she drops the pole by her feet and collapses next to a wall of the Temple, Timothy immediatly rushes to her aid and begins searching for ways to bandage her wounds. "Don't worry, Elena..." mutters Timothy gravely as he tightens a piece of cloth around her wound. "This should stop the blood flow, you should be fine..." "I-" starts Elena, an expression of confusion and sorrow clearly present in her eyes. "He-" "I wouldn't talk..." says Timothy softly. "Save your strength..." "The zombie-" continues Elena. "I-" Timothy is shocked to hear Elena's voice crack as she says this... It was a voice that he had come to associate with adamant will, and he hardly recognized as it was... "I-it's-" manages Elena through sobs "... so horrible..." As tears stream down Elena's cheeks and she falls into sobbing in silence, Timothy stares at the ground and realizes he can offer her no consolation...

Hmmm... I actually started a thread on this very subject a little while ago, and though it didn't get any responses, I did post my thoughts on an interesting concert I was at there. You can read my thoughts on Blueprint and Illogic's performances in Campbell here. :-)

Yesterday evening, I saw Michael Moore's "Bowling for Columbine" on DVD. I had heard a lot of hype about this movie before seeing it, and must say that in this case I think that the hype was well-justified. It's certainly one of the most entertaining, thought-provoking, and shocking movies I've seen all year... and I usually don't like documentaries. ;p I thought that the concept of the oppresive fear portrayed in the American media breeding violence in America's culture was fascinating, and that some of the facts and interviews were excellent. "25th Hour," "Bowling for Columbine" and "The Hours" are currently my top three films of 2003.