Peredhil

(Yays! An unconscious-from-"Rage" Peredhil)

The Boundary Wards were sealed once again. The worst of the structural damages were rebuilt or repaired. The Pen enchantments which played with space/time had been recast. Some members would find their rooms enlarged. Some rooms were carefully inventoried and their space reclaimed until their Member returned to reclaim them. But all this was standard background processing. The immediate focus was on reintegrating memberships and their Pen rights. This was trickier than might be assumed, being a subtle subtle matter of Ma'at. The Pen Members could not be bound, for that was the antithesis of Peredhil and Peredhil was the Pen Keep at the moment. And so those who thought loudly and didn't veil their thoughts, the emotions, the spells, the passive enchantments, the actions and words and personalities, all would come together in a variation of Peredhil's innate ability of being able to True Name. The Pen, without compromising free will, infused the mana and the air with its enchantment, passively absorbing all that they gave, in order to anticipate and support the Membership. Thus, for example, opening a door off the Cabaret, a Member found the Birthday Room when they expected it. Some could find the Courtyard, others the Guild. For those who accepted a small Binding of Responsibility and servitude, a small group who could find the Tower, there was an active part... Yui looked up (and up and ...) at the literally inhuman Solar. It's beauty and perfect were a Charisma Attack of a type, in merely existing. It's holiness made every failure, every stain on the soul a chasm gaping into the death of sin, sin as the Angelic being defined it. Yui just didn't give a holy damn at the moment. She might tolerate an injury to herself, but hurting someone she loved and/or respected made her insanely brave. The Dreamer's pain was bad enough, but Vlad. Vlad was a MEMBER. Which rage, in this case, was an advantage. She didn't have a clue what to do with this murdering Thing because she *knew* she was running a bluff. Her only hope was for someone who specialized in this sort of thing to show up before the angel discerned the truth. Therefore, it was an angry shrug of her shoulder that dislodged Zadown's helpful hand, a rude act she'd never normally do. Stepping forward, she shook her finger at the angel, a tiny robed figure pointing up at the vast being who filled the room. (Which room had politely grown to encompass the crowd.) "Baka! I've had enough of this," she snarled. TThe Pen, now the Dreamer had dwindled so far toward death, could hear and perceive and respond. An ELDER was in danger, a full member was slain. "You can NOT slay Pennites!" rage and tears mixed in her voice. It wasn't a threat so the Solar didn't notice. Yui was underneath and couldn't see. A small whirlpool of light appeared above the Solar and drifted down to lightly touch the perfect hair. With a small pop, the Solar was gently but firmly thrust back to where it had come. Which left the Elder Yui shaking a finger at the air, still shaking in rage and fear, and with the oddest image of the *look* on the Solar's face as it felt itself fade away from a shaken finger, a look she would treasure forever. As she lowered her finger slowly, Zadown stepped back with a curious look of respect and astonishment. As they exchanged looked, Yui said in wonder, "I have no clue how I did that." A few brilliant feathers and the ashes of Vlad were all showed a Solar had been here. As the room shrank a bit to accomodate fewer people, Dana was the only one to notice as a small whirlpool of light tidily sent the feathers after the angel.

The essence that was Peredhil continued to draw power, and Power, and POWER of all its resources. He continued to merge, to meld into the living structure that was the Pen, the Keep, the Grounds, the Hill on which Cyril's seat sat, the small house of Jechum on the path behind and so much more. The Doors and Walls greeted his touch lovingly, for they Knew him, although when he was in his body they were only a faint memory. This was much harder than any other time, for there were so many Not-Self in the Pen area. He was stretching so far as to lose Self and so he paused and formed a foci of Self, a lens of perception through which to assess his body. The Pen Walls behind Zadown shimmered, dust and pebbles and stone shimmering to reform. As it deflected off the Solar's cheek, the Stone curved and merged into its place. Elladan and Elrohir faded in like a Cheshire grin as their Adept spell was gently dissolved. Elladan perceived the situation and solution without understanding it was opened up the power of the Two to provide a point of existence for their father, stabilizing through shared power and blood in an eldritch magic that passed back into antiquities of time. Their offering was not acknowledged or accepted, and they knew fear. And still Peredhil drew on power from outside the Plane, avoiding the rude disruption of local mana so essential to so many within him. ...Penedhil...

The primal energies of Planar battle magic hummed with a dangerous sound, tugging and whispering and screaming into the ears behind the ears of Peredhil. The air around him burst into blue flames as several defensive spells flared in reaction faster than thought, channels through and between Planes painfully thrust open in the Pull. Elrohir was the first to arrive, his Portal flashing open on the bedroom wall, bracer guarding eyes as his broadsword flamed Spirit in his left hand. Mere seconds later, the door, reinforced as it was, burst before a *very* motivated Guido. Nuncio, with a Thompson sub-machinegun bearing incendiary blessed silver bullets tumbled in behind. Elladan, returning from the far lands undergoing Armageddon was the last to arrive. Fifteen seconds of time since Peredhil flared. And all too late. The room was empty and Peredhil was no where to be seen. Elladan’s smile was a grimace, a distorted mirror of Elrohir’s somber face as the twins grasped hands. Their bodies spasmed as their powers and minds meshed, the two cloven in the womb coming together to be more than their halves. Hands joined, they stepped out on the Adept walk in hopes of finding their father. That they even had to search did not bode well. Guido and Nuncio were left to gallop from the room by more ordinary means, leaving a trail of words that had *never* been heard in the Polite Chambers. Actinic mana ran off Peredhil in waves. From his place at the Root of the Pen, far below the surface, he linked into the foundational spells. Since Mynx had revealed a weakness, he’d been meaning to do this, but it was now a necessity. It had to have been the Dreamer, he could think of no one else capable of rending not only the physical barriers that made the Pen, but also the spiritual and magical ones. As he’d done with Rune, so he did now alone. Channeling all that he was into the network of mana, pulling all that he’d gathered throughout his Planar journeys, he began reweaving the spells of peace, love, acceptance and tolerance that formed the background on which the Pen rested. His form grew too bright to view, until only a small blue ball suspended in a web of lightings was visible to mortal or mage sights.

I'd definitely end that last stanza with a period. maybe in bold even. You deal with a subject dear to my heart - Manners. When you care for someone, it is Rude to let your eye wander, "checking out" what is taken as the potential competition to replace the one with whom you've chosen to be. You don't post often, but you do post well. *hugs*

For a very long time, I've thought children were wolves, but then I met Canid here at the Pen, and I realized that I was maligning wolves. Some people seems to think that children are little bundles of joy and perfection that are twisted and corrupted by society. The Tarzan syndrome, noble savages. I tend to think that children who are forced to raise themselves most often turn out like characters in the Lord of the Flies. Hmph. I set out to say this was a good poem, but apparently you struck a chord within me.

Looks baffled Those are in use by Pennites? I think I need this dictionary then... Offers up one. Peredhilish Torture - noun: The result of healing or de-stressing. "Gah this week's been HELL. I'm checking into the Polite Dungeon for a weekend of Peredhilish Torture!"

you know... If you joined, there's a section called the Critic's Corner where people are *supposed* (doesn't always work that way. be able to post a piece in progress and receive feedback on it. If you joined (hint hint)... In the Recruiter' Office... -Subtle P'

Pull her into the Dungeon and hides her from Reality behind the massage tables.

This is now about three years old and I've been wanting to revise it for a while. Wow there's such talent here! I'm just not good enough I fear. Should I post? My grammar just ain't too good, My spellingz just mizunderstood; Should I post? Some of these people are like gods to me. They'll laugh and I'll simply die you see... Should I post? My life's been hard, my heart has died, I wanna die and my computer's fried - Should I post? What if I post and they laugh at me? If expose my heart - and they just don't see... Should I post? How am I gonna learn if'n I don't take the chance? Anyway, I doubt they'll give it more than a glance - Might as well post. Someone read it and understood! They didn't hate me for this mood; My spelling's bad 'n' they didn't care, They waded through and it rated fair! I'm glad I posted!

It was fun. Now if we can only get Rev, Ozy, Nyyark, Zariah, and myself into the studio with you for a show... (I think that's all the Pennites in driving distance of Washington D.C.)

I love the imagery! What a marvelous Valentine.

Growls at the thought of someone being stupid enough to reject Minimondo. Ahem. Sorry about that. Good poem; I like Rev's suggestion though.

cryptic and tight. I like it.

Good poem. This was a bit thick: Perhaps personification such as something like: "The moon looms eerily, eyeing dark sails dreary" (hugs Da Yog in Peredhilish welcome. )

I like the second version. For me, it almost has a Nordic chant feel to it.

Wanders by. Hugs everyone in the crowd around the Jazzman. Hugs the Jazzman in welcome. Wanders away.

oh wow. I'm sorry I missed this first time around. That's GOOD.

Peredhil walks in and leans on Zoolio's portrait, nodding as the painted figure speaks. I agree. I also agree with out Winged Globe friend, that predisposition is not destiny. Good thing that we at the Pen know our limits on Role Playing. Hugging everyone, he saunters back out.

Yay! I remember your posts from the AMUBB with delight. Welcome welcome! gets ~O~ some condiments.

POUNCE! Hiya! Great to have you come by, and hope you can be here more often. hugs

Elrohir moves briskly through the room as he returns from an errand for his Dad. Interested as always in the Up-and-Coming crowd, he takes a moment to scan the Quests. Seeing one that doesn't have the family represented, he happily jots down his own name onto the parchment, then moves on to report to Peredhil.

Wyvern rushes in and grabs the mike. A Dwarf hits him with a spotlight and he's off. Yo! Thank you all! I'd like to thank all the little people (,And all the dwarves wave,) Who made this possible. As to making me Supreme Dictator of the Mighty Pen, What can I say but - (Say what? You don't say? You didn't say? Pilocanci said?)) (My scales burn red in delicate blush, At this sudden news, I will simply hush.) Uh, thank you folks, I've got to rush! The swirl of air that leads to cloud of dust Shows the silly almost-dragon's rushed, He's running to the next scheme as quick he can, And his fading voice now trails after, "Buy Almost-Dragonic Braaaand...."

Peredhil hearing her plea Is quite pleased as pleased can be Waving the wand, of Weenie-Be-Gone He Dances helpfully.

Peredhil wanders in absent-mindedly, hugs the newcomer, hugs everyone else and saunters on through, not realizing he didn't say anything out loud.