Peredhil

Purple Shadows - PM sent. Gwai. You hopefully know my heart toward you by now. *hugs*

a allegory contrast in two stanzas Love stinks. Love's sweet smells

Gives Gryphon a drive-by huggling He's a welcome edition to the Pen. I don't know him well enough yet to speak to whether I like him or not, but I definitely like and respect his writing skillz. -P' in haste

Is that Latin at the bottom of your home page blurb?!? I'm amazed.

I have a feeling this quote will be popular with anyone who has has the fun of experiencing it. I've had people fly from Germany to the United States to catch up on their characters in my world. For them, it's a stress-relief from highly obsessive business lives. I remember staying up my entire Spring Break at my first College playing D&D.Online games like Everquest, which from my experience is designed similar to a Skinner box experiement have combined the adreniline of teamwork and reward in bringing down THE big Mob. Which seques into another point. Role Playing is a tool. Like any tool, it is someway neutral, it is the use to which it is put which determines much. I was taught my D&D in 1975 by a dual Doctor - Divinity and Psychiatry. He used Role Playing in his therapy with abused children to give them a "safe" fantasy forum in which to verbalize issues and "test" various possible solutions. I know that as a "hard-core" Christian myself, Many of the favorite themes that have engaged the minds of my players have been ones I've (to be nice to me) borrowed from the bible and other apocryphal works. On the other hand, I've also been inspired to borrow from the Quran, Book of Mormon, and Hindu and Buddhist works, along with the traditional sources of mythology and other Fantasy masters such as Tolkien, Howard, Moorcock, McDonald, Byron, etc. I think this is a pretty well-written and well-rounded paper. The use of the lable of "religious fundamentalist" might be offensive to some, but in the paper's context, it is too well established to refute. -Peredhil's two cents

Happy birthday, anniversary. Remember, birthday celebrations aren't for you. You just endure it. they're for the rest of us to celebrate that you were born, that we've come to know you, and that you're there for us to love. So suck it up and deal with it - I love you! -P

I haven't had such a good laugh like that since Rune wrote "Peredhil eats paste" across our sword banner with a red crayon. And that was years before and this isn't. That was marvelously creative!

Hugs Big W', you'll always be welcome back.

Happy Birthday!!!

use any or all of my five (Peredhil, Elrohir, Elladan, Guido, Nuncio). If you don't mind delays, I'm available for consultation by PM. -P Follow-up thought - I really cannot imagine a circumstance that Peredhil would hate you or fear you. Guido's confidence is boundless in his ability to take care of himself, and he's always had a soft spot for the different or the outsiders. Nuncio, yeah, you could get fear and wariness from him with no problem - but underneath it all he *is* a trained hitman for the Mob. He did the job but didn't like it. Elrohir would be protective of others and wary. Both Guinea Pigs have magic rings that cut them off from using magic or being the target of magic. The hate them, but they are useful for breaking spells or preventing problems of certain types. Elladan would ignore you unless you actually threatened Peredhil or himself, in which case he would kill you as quickly as he could and let Gyrfalcon decide if you should be resurrected or not. Don't know if this helps or complicates things.

A blurry-eyed Peredhil sneaks in and quietly snores at Ayshela's feet, knowing she'll nudge him with a toe when Tamaranis shows, so he can sing too.

GLOMP You're not only forgiven, we're just happy to have you come around whenever you can.

(LOL@Sweet Cherrie's last post. ) Could it be that it wasn't Dr. Lector in a tuxedo who was pushed in the river by Red-Handed Jill, but rather that it was a penguin of pinguin descent who was pushed into the river, leaving our Princess and her Prince (who is panting) standing on the bridge amidst the pirates wearing a patch (the pirates and the princess but not the dog) in confusion?

Oh. My. This works on SO many levels...

The dog's name was Prince, but what was the name of the Princess?

*pounce!* *hug* As to the poem - that pretty much captures my mood of late, but then I realize I'd miss all those I love - like you.

Huggles a lot. E- Thank you for sharing your life for the last few years. I'm very proud of you. -L

That's GOOD.

What a wonderful tribute poem to Cyril Darkcloud!

First read: I appreciated the imagery. The current rushing one line formatting made it hard for my lil' ADD brain to follow it though. *hugs*

Hugs Mynx apologetically. My own Mom was a '1950s' type, of sorts. I can't imagine my family having existing or surviving without her. With my Dad occasionally rapidly popping out ideas like a popcorn maker, it helped that she had been an Executive Secretary before she'd married - she took shorthand. Her ability to type 178 words a minute in the days when white-out was the only option was a God-send on those term papers that somehow slipped up on us kids. When I started 1st grade, she went back to school, to the local college. Just because all my life her love of learning was a cornerstone. When I graduated 12 years later, the college made her graduate too - she'd taken every class they had. The 1950s thing really reads stereotypically - but having seen its dark glass with a love-light behind it, it turns out that it can be a stained-glass beauty. I think it's the heart of the person who make a role like that either work or not work. I know my Mom was always big on appreciating whatever she had, rather than lamenting what she didn't have or what others had. Taking others actions or words for granted was pretty well forbidden in my house. She worked pretty "cheaply" those "1950" years though, raising us and making a home out of the house. All she got was endless affection, respect, and appreciation, a financially sound husband which whom she shared interests and who'd rather spend an evening talking with her than watching TV. A large number of kids who call her Mom and love her dearly, five of to which she gave birth, all of which knew how to clean and maintain a house, sew a shirt, cook a meal, and do their own laundry. Respect in the community for her endless volunteer work, whether it was PTA, reading at schools, leading Camp Fire Girls, being Den mother for Boy Scouts, or one of her other "hobbies". And a zillion hugs.

Kiss of the writer wind, Gentle drops dimple muddy waters; Unseen lips kiss upturned faces Bare to rain. Touch of the writer wind, Eldritch figures in the sand; Serpentine scrawls ripple waters Draws life from desert seas. New line; Fate of a burning moon

I love this.

w00t! Go Jason!!! *huggles and hugs both of them. *

Happy happy. *hugs*