Katzaniel

Like this? I wanted to swim in the river. It beckoned to me with its curved shores, flirted with my desire to be immersed in its cool touch, and caressed me with its soft gurgling tone. The butterfly's wings formed two angry eyebrows, and fluttering away it shouted its frustration louder than any words could do. Hm. I don't think that second one's quite right. Could you give an example of personification of an already living thing? Or, wait... are we supposed to make the object act like the being? The cliff was like a rabbit, the falling stones from its edge like quivering whiskers, afraid of my approach and ready at a moment's notice to flee from beneath my feet. I don't think I got it right that time either.

Salinye... perhaps it's just one who wasn't very active in the Cabaret room when these were in their prime, but those four words are not very descriptive to me... Are we supposed to create an analogy to a muse? ie) My muse is like a ... because ... ? Thanks!

OOC: I've avoided reading everyone else's, but after I post I will come back and read... this should be interesting! Early one morning, a portly priest leaned over his potato patch. Andrew would often spend the morning with his spade among the green things of the earth, listening to the the nightingale and bonding with God. However, his rest this day was interupted by angry words. "Rubbish! Garbage! Trash!" "That is my exact point about the current calendar." The first man's voice turned a sombre tone. "Each day has its own purpose. If I were a mighty wizard I would smite you with blinding flames." Although the latter statement was said with an element of jest, he held out his quill as if to stab the second man. Andrew was able to reach the men before the dread threat, or even some lesser action, was carried out. He gave the defendant a quizzical look. "I simply said, if I were a mighty wizard, I'd do the world a favour and remove a day." "You've been reading too much Garfield!" "I'm sorry, but I just can't help the fact that I hate monday."

OOC: Back to the good old days of actual lynching! Aic kept singing his song over and over again, ignoring all pleas to stop. "I remain on the far side of crazy I remain the mortal enemy of man No hundred dollar cure will save me Can't stay a boy in no man's land...." Jammeez and he were circling around each other, but while Jammeez would think of a new verse to sing each time, Aic just repeated the same old words, as if he were saving his creative juices for the expressions on his face, which were growing stranger by the moment. Itchy in his padded cell was shaking violently but no one saw. He clenched his teeth so hard in an effort not to scream again that by the time the nurses looked in on him he had passed out, and thinking that he'd been given sleeping pills, and therefore was calm and safe again, they brought him back to where the others were. When Itchy woke up to Aic singing his verse, and felt as if he had never been out, he snapped. "Yes! You are the mortal enemy of this man, me!" Before anyone could react, Itchy had run up to Aic and snapped his neck. A few orderlies try to stop him as he continues to beat the dead man, but the attacks are only transferred and the orderlies back away after suffering a fair amount of damage. Itchy rampages in about a five foot radius around Aic's body, but he doesn't seem to notice anyone who is farther away. Instead, the orderlies drag everyone else away, preferring not to deal with Itchy in the state he's in. It's clear that Aic is past help, but they usher each of the remaining patients into their own padded cells (by now there are enough for all of them) and leave Itchy in the dinner hall. With each in their own secluded room, the night should pass safely. OOC: Vahktang was an innocent villager. Night phase. W/B/S, PM within 24 hours please. Since I'm late, I might start early if I get them sooner. Alive: Gnarlitch as Itchy - general troublemaker Ozymandias as Lamont - semi-amnesiac with false memories Eyremon as Eyremon - is fighting some sort of war dragonqueen as Rena - thinks everyone's out to get her MTUFoolish as Mike - thinks he's Michael Jackson Dean as Napolean - not really Napolean Jammeez as Jammeez - big troublemaker Dead: Nave as Woof - Like a cornered wolf - except not. Vahktang as Milos / Aic - Can't stay a boy in no man's land.

Katzaniel, after making an elephant and a giraffe (OOC: yes, really) gets bored and sets up a mini-booth right next to the sculpture one, with some stacks of paper, some extra pens and pencils, and a sign:

Even given the level of insanity, I do wonder whether the second last line isn't accidentally missing the word "from". It could be on purpose, and no one would ever know for sure. Interesting. And cool.

Okay, so you've created these 5 characters, gotten them together, created reasons for them to work together, and now don't know where to go? Well, my first comment would be that you've rushed them to where they are. I don't mind the things that happen so much as the fact that you don't explain too much of the motivation for any of it. The first little bit is fine, Sato has a history and character, but for some reason the rest of the character seem very random. I think you need to explain their backgrounds to us, and also to go more slowly through the whole part that gets them together. I mean, you're skipping over the most exciting parts - Sato fighting the dragon (even if nothing much happened, it should be described better than in parentheses, it was rather important), and the whole Gauntlet adventure and the conversation afterward that allowed them to not kill each other. So, slow down, you could make the part that you have already about five or ten times longer. My second comment is that you need to know for yourself why all this is happening. Don't tell the audience yet, but make sure you know. Do you? Because if you don't, then I'd say you're asking us to help you decide on that more than anything else. I don't believe you can continue it without figuring that out. If you already have, then you're asking how to go about writing the adventures that allow these 5 characters to discover why someone is after their town, and stop them. So what I'm saying is, I think we need to know whether you have any ideas about who put the Beacon there or not before we can help you decide where to go from here.

I've only had time to read the prologue and first chapter, and aside from enjoying your style of writing and liking the plot so far, I had one comment. The line, "Sato had a way with words like Charles Manson had a way with people." (That might not be exactly right, but you know which line I mean now.) I loved it at first, it was a great simile, until I realized that Charles Manson had apparently had a really good "way with people". His incredible charisma was what had enabled him to get people into his apartment in the first place. Although it is possible that I'm thinking of a different mass-murderer, I also realized that this line is a time & cultural reference that you don't really need. Obviously it's your choice, but I'd recommend altering it to "...like a psychopath..." or "...like a mass-murderer..." or something. I have to take off now, but I'll keep reading later and see if I can help that writer's block of yours or not.

Pink My-Little-Ponies, braided manes glistening in the candlelight like a victorious ray of sunlight on the snow. Green and soiled army men stacked on the floor, twisted limbs entwining like the uneaten noodles drawing flickering shadows on the patterned tablecloth. Grey clouds in the sky bring mirroring emotions to the grown man and woman imitating the toy soldiers, their meal not yet cold. Red numbers on the microwave count the pittering rain, as the emerging shower turns sighs of bliss into uniform sighs of desperation. White phone brings the undesired news amid breathless descriptions of almost-goals and grass-stained jeans. Black tires skim through water along the pebble-ridden street, marking one long tally for another dissapointing evening.

The night passed, and each patient was taken away, questioned, and returned. The officers grew more disgruntled with each patient as they were finding no answers and few were even being cooperative. Finally, the last patient returned and morning came. Ms. Triffle announced that they would be having a special day-long counselling session due to the recent deaths. The patients were allowed to get ready by themselves, but one at a time, with guards outside. Dustin went through first and returned to the dinner hall. He spoke for a while with an orderly about how they were feeding the rest of the Institution without using the hall, and then the orderly left for a minutes. When she returned, Dustin was still alone in the room, everyone was still getting ready or waiting to get ready, but Dustin was dead, torn apart like the nurses had been. Dustin's body was removed as quickly as possible and the patients were grabbed from whatever stage of readiness they were in and brought to the dinner hall. They were not told what had happened to Dustin, only that the nurses had decided they were unable to watch everyone effectively in so many places. And they were encouraged to talk about anything they had on their minds. OOC: The wolf conversion was unsuccessful last night. This means you have just one wolf among you at the moment. The player list: Alive: Gnarlitch as Itchy - general troublemaker Vahktang as Milos / Aic - people in asylums from movies Ozymandias as Lamont - semi-amnesiac with false memories Eyremon as Eyremon - is fighting some sort of war dragonqueen as Rena - thinks everyone's out to get her MTUFoolish as Mike - thinks he's Michael Jackson Dean as Napolean - not really Napolean Jammeez as Jammeez - big troublemaker Dead: Nave as Woof - Like a cornered wolf - except not.

Katzaniel, spear in one hand and a briefcase in the other, trots along the conservatory, observing the kissing booth (nah, none of the occupants would appreciate a kiss from a mostly-female in a mostly-male body), the bachelor auction (nah, thanks to Finnius' antics, I can no longer be considered single), and even witnessing the tagging of Tanuchan (nah... I'm open to participation, but I'm not gonna go parading myself as such), Katzaniel finally comes to an empty booth. She lets herself in, pushes the chair outside, and sets up. The spear she leaves leaning against a wall, but the briefcase she opens and places so that its contents are visible to the general public, but reachable to herself. Underneath a wooden sign, which she removes, the case is an array of coloured moldable clay. There are also a few figurines which she lines up for display along the other side of the booth. As Katzaniel makes herself comfortable and begins using the spear to help absentmindedly shape some bits of the clay, a deliveryman with a big cardboard box on a dolly arrives at the scene. "You Katzaniel?" he says, roughly pronouncing the syllables from the sheets on his clipboard. "I am." "Sign here." He hands her his clipboard. Katzaniel does, thanking him for the prompt delivery and paying the fee. When he leaves, she tears open the box and finds a place for its contents, a medium-sized cooking oven, inside the booth. Finally, she hangs the sign and returns to carving. OOC: I will actually make a 1 or 2 inch clay piece of your character, but I won't be able to do more than send you pictures of it. Still, pictures can be used in a variety of ways. If you sign up, make sure you provide me with a detailed physical description, including position please. Since I have no idea how often I will have time to make one, and I don't really want to turn someone down who really wants one, I have decided to go with an auction system. Like I said, whenever I have time to begin one I will check the current bidders and begin, informing the winner. I will begin the first today if there are any bids. Oh, and if you think your piece would go well in a chess set, sign up for that too. If I make enough to complete a set, Tam and I will probably actually use it! Thanks. Samples - Click on "Clay".

I'm sorry, but this delay isn't so much my fault as the last one. I am still missing one or more (no, won't tell ya how many) PMs. I don't want to have to roll it (again!), but I don't want to delay more than today, so I might. Anyway, just to let you all know why the delay... although I'm enjoying the questioning scenes, so keep 'em coming while we're waiting (another 4 or 5 hours maximum).

Katzaniel stops by, looks with interest at the names on the list, and then leaves, chuckling to herself about the unfortunate effect of stickying to the title of certain threads.

OOC: Katz is quite arrogant, so these personalities might clash... but, well, if they do it will just make the RP all the more interesting. IC: Katzaniel raises an eyebrow at the woman that was now pointedly ignoring her. Oh well, that's her loss, thinks the great cat and she leaves the office. She winds her way around the guild until she finds a location ideal for writing. Removing the chair from the desk she's found, the tigertaur then stretches her tiger self out fully so that her human half can lean just so on the desk. Laying the paper down (and setting her spear to the side), Katzaniel grabs a pen from the holder and stares at the sheet. The question was really why the AVV might help her, Katzaniel knew. It was obvious the things that she could offer to them. Why go through this degrading exercise just to please that silly woman? Still, the AVV did look to be a place of comraderie and adventure, and Katzaniel had found in the Pen the only place in many years of travel where people accepted her differences. As such, she would defend it to the death, and also help out in efforts like these guilds. Besides, it offers adventure. And that is an unignorable attraction. Katzaniel begins to write. A tiny voice speaks softly in her mind, and she slightly modifies its egotistical words, instead adding: The voice speaks again but she beats it down. It was obvious that the cat forms were much more attractive than the witch doctor, so there was no point harping on that, no matter what he said. Was there really anything else to say? A conclusion, then. The tigertaur signed her name and brought the paper to the woman, Scarlot. This time, she knocked on the door, but the voice simply said, "Name?" "Katzaniel. I'm done." "Oh you are, are you? Strengths as well as weaknesses? You wouldn't believe how many applicants we get that claim to have no weaknesses." Oh, yeah. Katzaniel quickly scrawls an appendum to her application while saying out loud, "Just one moment, you made me remember something." Then, without knocking a second time, Katzaniel opens the door to hand in the application.

Where do we sign up to run something? (If anyone wants to move this post to wherever it's supposed to be, minus this line... thanks!) I would like to offer a booth that makes little clay sculptures of Pennites. I will make a real 1 or 2 inch piece but unfortunately you will recieve nothing but pictures of it. However, these can be put in avatar, sig, desktop wallpaper, whatever you want... and if I assemble enough of them, I can put them together in a chess set. This means that you can nominate yourself or someone else to be a particular piece. ie) Some of our four-legged members might make good Knight pieces. Or perhaps if all the Elders sign up, they can be the pawns! Anyway, these are just ideas. And I'd probably better charge some Geld, or else I'd get swamped with people wanting free work...

Yaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgghhhh! That I did not know. As for a Green seat, I agree it would have been nice, but I think the Green party's support is too spread out to actually elect a seat. Actually, they were close at one point in one riding weren't they? Did anyone else notice that we had leading Marxist Leninist riding at one point?

Well, I'm disappointed actually. I mean, why couldn't the Liberals or NDP have bagged just one more seat? There were certainly enough close calls. My own riding's Liberal candidate lost by just 120 votes to the Conservative. Which really goes to show how much a few votes can alter everything. ie) Liberals: 135 seats Conservatives: 99 seats Bloc: 54 seats NDP: 19 seats Independent: 1 seat That gives 154 seats to the Liberals and NDP together, which means that once the speaker has been elected from the Liberal MPs, if the Conservatives and Bloc were to both oppose them on something, it would be 153 to 153 before the independent puts his/her vote in. The newspapers are barely reporting on this person, so I all I know is that they live someplace in BC. The analysts all keep talking about how the NDP has the "balance of power" and no one seems to realize that since they lost 2 seats sometime between midnight and morning (they were leading in 21 ridings when I went to bed), they don't anymore. I think that needing the NDP or the Bloc or the Conservatives to agree with them was enough of a minority. I think with needing the NDP and another party, this is just a bit to unstable. We're gonna see another election pretty quick I bet.

OOC: I tally 2 each for Nave and Gnarlitch and 1 each for dragonqueen and Eyremon. Between Nave and Gnarlitch, then... and the dice have spoken. Suddenly a soft noise is heard. Jammeez stops cooing to Woof, the bickering ceases, Eyremon even pauses in his wall construction as all heads turn to the door. Someone is turning the handle. A second later, four crisply uniformed police officers enter the room, followed by Ms. Triffle and two burly male nurses. "We're going to take each of you away for separate questioning now," states one of the policemen. "If there is any trouble, it will be dealt with. Trust me, you don't want to cause any trouble." Two of the officers step from behind him. One, a curly-haired female, whispers to the dead-silent room, "Which one first, Charlie?" Gnarlitch stands up straight and loudly declares, "You don't need to question us. We all know that Woof tore them apart." The first officer shoots Ms. Triffle a troubled look, but responds, "That's what we need to determine here..." He is interupted by Woof himself, who barks loudly and runs up to Gnarlitch, tearing at his leg. Gnarlitch pulls away, saying, "It couldn't have been anyone else, the stupid dog..." Jammeez whistles to Woof. "C'mon boy, we know he's lying. Gnarlitch is capable of it, but not this sweet thing here." Eyremon stands in front of his wall and salutes the officers. "I intercepted a coded message, sir. It obviously stated that..." "No more!" shouts the first officer, clapping his hands. "I want no more discussion on this matter until it is time for each of you to be questioned." Woof starts to whine, but the policeman claps his hands again. "Amy, get the one on all fours. Charlie, bring the man who accused him. Rich, stay here with Ms. Triffle and make sure that none of them speaks to each other. I'll return shortly to collect two more." He turns to speak to Ms. Triffle but is interupted by a desperate howl from Woof. The policewoman is attempting to cuff him, and the howl shortly turns into a growl. She deftly flips him onto his back and kneels on his chest, but he surprises her by grabbing her arm with his mouth, biting deeply. With a muffled shout the woman drops the handcuffs to the floor, places her palm into his forehead, and roughly pushes his head into the ground to retrieve her bloodied arm. Charlie, who has already handcuffed the struggling Gnarlitch, starts forward. Gnarlitch kicks him and in a second the man has his gun out, training it on Gnarlitch and Woof, back and forth, back and forth. He is sharply commanded by the lead officer to put it away, but Jammeez shouts, "He's innocent!" and kicks the fallens cuffs across the floor. This causes Amy to stand up, mistakenly thinking that the gun would have some sort of placating effect on Woof, who sees only a chance at escape. He gets back into his standard hands and knees position, sees only closed doors around him, and tries lunging for the one who'd hurt him. Growling and spitting he jumps into the air after her. A shot sounds, a gaping wound opens in his side, and the impact knocks him off course. He slams sideways into the ground and rolls motionless onto his back. A high-pitched whine leaves his mouth, but stops even before anyone reaches him. The next few minutes is a blur of activity. Woof gets packed up to sent to the emergency room, and Gnarlitch and Jammeez are dragged off for questioning. Ms. Triffle gives a hasty and obviously hopeless speech about cooperation, then settles herself silently into a chair beside the remaining officer. ------------------------ Alive: Gnarlitch as Itchy - general troublemaker Vahktang as Milos / Aic - people in asylums from movies Ozymandias as Lamont - semi-amnesiac with false memories Eyremon as Eyremon - is fighting some sort of war dragonqueen as Rena - thinks everyone's out to get her MTUFoolish as Mike - thinks he's Michael Jackson Dean as Napolean - not really Napolean Jammeez as Jammeez - big troublemaker Dead: Nave as Woof - Like a cornered wolf - except not. Nave was an innocent "villager". Night phase begins now. W/S/B, you have 24 hours from this post to send your stuff please. Also, to keep yourselves occupied, anyone may post (or PM, if you feel like it) part of what you say / try to do to the officers who pull you away for questioning sometime during the night.

I can't even remember for sure that my deadline was last night, and these time zones are still messing with my head, but if you guys haven't decided on someone by the time I come home from my midterm tomorrow (about 18 hours from now), I will decide who gets lynched with a toss of the die. * Fervently hopes that the list gets shorter and not longer by that time. *

Oh, probably. Tam knows us both and seems to be equally exasperated by our antics. So if that means anything But what you don't realize is that poking is much more effective against him. * poke * Oh yeah, and I meant to tell you, your bugging him actually did some good! [/cryptic remark]

I don't think you opened any cans of worms, I am very glad that you gave a thoughtful and useful explanation. I absolutely agree about Duceppe appearing pretty good in the debates. I must admit that I didn't see all of either of them, but what I did see showed that Duceppe was calm, poised and articulate. I guess I've just had a bad opinion of the party due to the whole "Separatist" thing, and wondering why Quebec gets a party just for its interests. It's good to know that the BQ doesn't actually hold the referendums or anything, and what you said about Meech Accord reminded me about what I learned in Social 30, and realized that Quebec's interests have historically been a little different from the rest of Canada, and therefore it makes sense that there is a federal influence to see that they are not ignored. Thank you, Celes. That was a comprehensive description that I'd probably have never seen otherwise. Edit: PS. Did everyone vote yet?

I think they probably didn't do it (comment on the writing) because it wasn't written by the person who posted it. I think I remember him saying that. Anyway, I would have commented if I didn't have to register first. I think I will comment here though, since ntrav has brought up religion anyway... (and as you all know, religion can be a touchy topic... I don't *mean* to offend anyone, sorry if I do...) First, I think the main point of the story was to say that it doesn't matter if you're an atheist or a theist (doesn't address whether it matters if you're a good person or not, since both were) but that what matters is whether you can justify your choices. My belief is basically that theist or otherwise, if you try to help others then you are a good person, and deserve Heaven. A lot of the comments they had there were based on why would God design us so we could/would sin? It seems to me that sinning does nothing but hurt our own souls, or other people. In the big picture, which God would see, that means we help to judge ourselves, and the people who get hurt isn't very important since life's sole purpose is judgement. Pain here is temporary pain, and what is that beside the permanence and beauty of Heaven? Besides, pain on Earth also serves to see how people respond to it - more sinning, or efforts to reduce others' pain, or giving up, or what? So why wouldn't he allow us to sin, if we are living on Earth in order to be judged? On the other hand, I firmly believe that God does intervene to minimize pain; that is, allows an avalanche to kill a couple of teenagers so that a bus of schoolkids may live a couple of years down the line in another country, tradeoffs like that. I mean, since every action affects every other and we are capable of sinning, and the purpose being not to make us all infinitely happy but rather to judge us in a minimally harmful way, then the ideal method is via tradeoffs like that, right? What I don't get is that if God knows each one of us, understands like no human can the things that go into every decision we make, then how can he renounce any of our decisions? If we think that we are doing the right thing, how can he judge that we are not, given that he knows exactly what knowledge we lack, and exactly what character traits make us think that what we are doing is for the best? And, even more confusing, how could he fault our definition of the best thing when he made us to be how we are, knowing the things that would happen in our life-time to shape our ideals, and again understanding everything that goes into a given decision? What exactly is he judging us on? A psychopath who murders seven people is doing so because he doesn't care about right/wrong so much as his own benefit. I'm not saying why doesn't God, all-powerful, stop this person, I'm saying why does God, who is all-knowing and understands this person's thoughts (not just knows them, but understands them as only he can), who made this person with that chemical inbalance in their head that makes them the way they are, who sees everything that has happened in their lifetime to prevent them from seeking help and whatnot, why does he judge this? I am a very confused person with regard to religion, and I guess what I'm saying is that I hold multiple contradicting beliefs. I also believe that God doesn't judge us at all, but rather does all he can to minimize our pain and then accepts as many into Heaven as he can. The problem with this is that God must not be omnipotent - perhaps I don't believe he is. I mean, Satan is supposed to cause him problems, right? I'm sorry for all this, it's just that I rarely find anyone with whom to discuss this sort of thing.

*Comes to Tam's aid*

*Cheers on Salinye* He so deserved that.

From some "joke of the day" site. I think it's pretty good... It started out innocently enough. I began to think at parties now and then to loosen up. Inevitably though, one thought led to another, and soon I was more than just a social thinker. I began to think alone - "to relax," I told myself - but I knew it wasn't true. Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally I was thinking all the time. I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don't mix, but I couldn't stop myself. I began to avoid friends at lunchtime so I could read Thoreau and Kafka. I would return to the office dizzied and confused, asking, "What is it exactly we are doing here?" Things weren't going so great at home either. One evening I had turned off the TV and asked my wife about the meaning of life. She spent that night at her mother's. I soon had a reputation as a heavy thinker. One day the boss called me in. He said, "Skippy, I like you, and it hurts me to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If you don't stop thinking on the job, you'll have to find another job." This gave me a lot to think about. I came home early after my conversation with the boss. "Honey," I confessed, "I've been thinking..." "I know you've been thinking," she said, "and I want a divorce!" "But Honey, surely it's not that serious." "It is serious," she said, lower lip a quiver. "You think as much as college professors, and college professors don't make any money, so if you keep on thinking we won't have any money!" "That's a faulty syllogism," I said impatiently, and she began to cry. I'd had enough. "I'm going to the library," I snarled as I stomped out the door. I headed for the library, in the mood for some Nietzsche, with a PBS station on the radio. I roared into the parking lot and ran up to the big glass doors... they didn't open. The library was closed. To this day, I believe that a Higher Power was looking out for me that night. As I sank to the ground clawing at the unfeeling glass, whimpering for Zarathustra, a poster caught my eye. "Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?" it asked. You probably recognize that line. It comes from the standard Thinker's Anonymous poster. Which is why I am what I am today: a recovering thinker. I never miss a TA meeting. At each meeting we watch a non-educational video; last week it was "Porky's." Then we share experiences about how we avoided thinking since the last meeting. I still have my job, and things are a lot better at home. Life just seemed... easier, somehow, as soon as I stopped thinking.