Ozymandias

My net is FIXED. Lemme know when you guys want to play in the Matrix...

*snaps fingers, smiling* Seems that all that's missing is a roaring fire and slippers. Well done.

...been enthralled by the view of a laundromat washing machine? ...killed a man for pun? ...had to remove breasts from a toilet? ...gone to work and met a pirate, a kender, and a prophet in one week? ...met a squire two weeks later?

Internet still broken. Miss you guys!!! Merry Christmas!!!!

Sorry, Deg- we require no working of your schedule around us to be a member of the Pen. So you will have your opinions considered whether you like it or not.

Heh. You even sound more like yourself than you did the last few times I saw you here. Good. :>) Two things: What led you to worry that you "tromping in and posting with your fevered muse" *would* "be seen as little more board spam"? That's a bit worrying to me, especially coming from one who has before so wholeheartedly thrown herself into participating in this community, no matter how much what board features, members, *or* numbers changed. And remember: we're primarily a writing site. Criticism's a necessary tool of that process-that's why writers have editors, for example. Never be afraid of it (looks at everyone). It's like any other tool- it's only dangerous if used in a dangerous way. Before I forget: Welcome back, and Merry Christmas!

I am next on the list, aren't I? If I am, I'll have my sign-up up by Friday or Saturday. I'm waiting for internet to be re-established, and it will be by then by the latest. If I'm not next, then I'll be ready to play by Friday or Saturday.

The stark raving stork to English translation: Congratulations Blby, AshtonBlades, and Nyarlathotep on attaining the rank of Page. And congratulations to Degorram on attaining the rank of Quill Bearer. Mazeltov

We join one of Ozymandias' obstreperous classes being taught on the grounds of The Mighty Pen Keep, already in progress. His students today are Bartleby, AshtonBlades, Nyarlathotep, and Degorram. The location happens to be green, under much sky, well stocked with trees, and very very far away from the Keep itself. The Loremaster paces back and forth across an open field in a clearing in the trees. His pupils sit on the grass, somewhat anticipating, somewhat vexed. Arms folded emphatically behind his back, Ozymandias stares intently at the forest as he continues his talk. "2Just like the rules of the Pen is Mightier than the Sword, the ranks are a bit difficult to follow at first but quickly become second nature. It's much like digesting the humble medicago sativa alfalfa we've been foraging for -" Bartleby politely raises a paw. "Yes Bartleby." "Eep, Mr. Ozymandias? That isn't really very like rules of any sort is it? I mean -" "Tut tut my good guinea," interrupts the former king. "Tut. Ha! I made a funny." He grins at one of those inconspicuous spots in the forest he'd been facing instead of them up until a minute ago, then shakes himself as though suddenly remembering where he is. "It's all about connecting ourselves with nature. This place that we live in, any world despite seeming chaos in the actions and governance of weather, lives of animals, the seasons... All of these have a weight that they equalize everything else in nature with. To put it in the ancient terms of Earth and of many other planets as their people first gained a firm grasp of science, there are four elements to everything around us." It was around this time that the audience realized that they had indeed been feeling a vibration in their feet or bottoms which now gave way to a mighty roar as the ground heaved and a mountain tore itself out of the treeline no more than a mile away. All who weren't already off of their feet were thrown down, even Ozymandias as he continued calmly "Earth," The quake was over as abruptly as it had begun. The Loremaster stood and offered a hand up to those that required it. Ashton opened his mouth and the egyptian fixed him with an intense stare. "Air," was all he said and now the leaves were torn from the trees, flung at them by a furious maelstrom in razor-like carnage. The titanic wind had already knocked them all flat to the ground again, however, so all harm done was to the long grass they had been meeting in, shortening it by a good six inches from one end of the clearing to the other. The wind slowed eventually. The Pennites, now flustered, frightened, and a little angry began to protest. "Now see here!" The complaint died on their lips as it was realized as one that the wisps of fog that had been pushed out here on their way through the forest had grown and thickened into a veil that eclipsed all but the nearest folk to each others' eyes from view. Ozymandias, heard but not seen, went on. "Water," Softly, steadily other voices with a quality that was not quite describable took up a chant from the fringes of the fog. "Ph'nglui mglw'nash Cthulu1 R'lyeh wgah'ngal shtagn." It might have been a quality of wrongness echoing from those alien throats, it might have been the words, but the sounds made the neck-hairs of all present stand on end, whether they could say why or not. Without warning an enormous figure, much much too large to be Ozymandias, began to emerge from the mists. It had great luminous eyes and an outline that refused even the vaguest discernment. "Fire" came Ozymandias' word. The group noticed the barest flicker of red behind them, followed shortly thereafter by the thing in the fog shifting its gaze toward them only to be struck in between its considerable eyeballs by something that glinted yellow once before finding its target with a wet, yet pronounced Thunk sound. The fog lifted with preternatural speed only to reveal a sunlit clearing in what was once more a wholly unremarkable forest with no mountain, no bare trees, no sliced grass, no chanters, and no... thing. Except for the gold brick wrapped about with a slice of lemon before them in the dirt and the werewolf placidly smoking a meerschaum pipe behind them. It strolled to the front of the group. Adjusting a now much less incongruous than it would have been under almost any other circumstances powder blue tie that proclaimed it to be World's Best Dad, the werewolf clears its throat. "Remember," it begins. "You are all in various stages of refining your skill in writing and speaking words as are we all here. This really only requires study and practice, thus this is not the truly important part of pursuing the art of the word. The truly important part is having imagination and the desire to use words the way no one else but you does. That cannot be taught. That cannot be practiced. Each of you have the important part in spades." It jabs a claw into the air, as if for emphasis, but music begins to play from the air at the same time. "Do not forget this." Two elevators are lowered on cables that reached so impossibly high up into the sky their ends cannot be seen. They hit the ground. The doors open with an electric rush of air. White smoke issues forth from both, and each member of Daft Punk steps out. The elevators undergo a rapid and astoundingly complex transformation into synthesizers, and the two gleaming robots (blinking lights and all) begin to play. Ozymandias, the grass, the werewolf, and a chilling white thing just inside the trees dance. So do the clouds. One more time... One more time We gonna celebrate Oh yeah, all right Don't stop dancing 2 footnotes: 1. The Call of Cthulu by H. P. Lovecraft 2. lyrics for One More Time by Daft Punk

I swear, Crypt- it was like you were trying to win on purpose!!! *does a little 'I finally won a game as a wolf' jig* Seriously, great game guys. You reminded me very much of how much I loved my first WW. ^^

See, now you're just doing it on purpose. Cheeky!

Slowly, Kelly uncurled halfway from the ball she'd wrapped into on the floor,rapier bobbing slightly with the movement. Removing her hat from her face halfway through easygoing Jimmy's speech, she glared up at him perched on the table, leaning over her. "I drank cos peeple got killed, prick. Now ih doesn't hurt so mush. That's why." She put her hat back over her face and turned away from him, still clutching her middle. (OOC: Jimmy/Cryptomancer)

Dear Crypt, *cough* Best regards, ~Me~ \;>)

Kelly's table has been empty for time now, but applause suddenly emanates, weak, but distinct, from underneath it. "Yay flying lady! Yayoooooooog. Owie. Stomach hurts. Make a bunny appear next? Oww..." A partygoer looks over the edge of the table, offering a sympathetic, "Hon, the magic act ended over an hour ago." (OOC: Dan Gray/Mithrandin)

"ANOTHER MURDER!", someone screams. Kelly vomits on Zane's nice new shoes.

Critique does tend to work best when it's explanatory...

Monday, October 22, 4:04 PM EST Movies 30 Days of Night the movie based on Steve Nile's comic book series of the same name, opened in American theaters this past Friday. The Spiderwick Chronicles is going to be the next children's fantasy novel series to hit the movies. Reportedly, the movie will be based on books 1-6, in similar fashion to the A Series of Unfortunate Events movie. Recommended Captain America Omnibus, by Ed Brubaker. This is twenty-five out of the thirty issues (to date) that Ed has written of the Captain. As you can see from the top of this page, I was initially VERY upset with the assassination of Cap - not so much that it happened, but that it was as a direct result of Marvel Comics' Civil War (by Mark Millar), and as such, I became immediately concerned that it was going to be a graceless and tacky metaphor for losing our personal lives here in America thanks to the Patriot Act, as so many have insisted has happened. It wasn't, and I was gratified to see that Mr. Brubaker has fantastically woven the story he began telling from issue one of his work on this title into Civil War, instead of the reverse. It's a very meaningful tale to the characters, and those who love them- there is NO bully pulpiting here. Yay. ^^ Plus, he writes a terrifically intense story about our favorite Star-Spangled Avenger. The Pirates! in an Adventure with Communists, by Gideon Defoe. The Pirate Captain and his crew dabble in philosophy, raw meat, and opera. Also starring Karl Marx and Friedrich Nietzsche. Ridiculous and fun in only the way a Brit with a less than firm grip of the serious can bring. Splendid quick read, too, if you've been looking for one. I'm Reading Death Takes Passage, by Sue Henry. Thieves and murderers rear their ugly heads on an 1897 gold rush re-enactment cruise. It flows quite well as travelogue AND mystery. Ms. Henry expertly and seamlessly blends traveler's notes with a very well-paced build-up of suspense in the course of a well publcized and eagerly awaited history buff's pleasure cruise punctuated with desperate killing and a strange string of thefts.

If this is 90% emotional, not literal as you seemed to explain in the introduction, then it remains an unsolved riddle, but one I'll gladly come back to. *However*, if that is incorrect, I'm left with some very interesting thoughts. The first being that this is a tale of one of two things: masturbation, or cannibalism. The references to weeping without learning, covering a trail, wetness, a mushroom, and digging out the bone are what led me the most strongly to these two scenarios. ...as well, perhaps, the fact that I have been listening to some pretty frickin' grim music for the past hour or so straight... Especially if I'm at all correct in either asessment, I'll take the more colorful parts of the ensuing necessary discussion into PM with you, if you don't mind. Simply because the Banquet room is public (we do have a rated R and up forum, but it remains locked until you gain some forum ranks). The one part that really has me scratching my head, though, is the "exoskeleton". That stands out quite effectively, and I'm very uncertain what to make of it. Oh, and I must agree with Silver- the last line, while poignant, does not flow well with the rest. Overall, though, definitely creative and unique. This would be "experimental poetry", then?

You're very welcome. The style seems to work quite well. As for the poem itself, I really *couldn't* find anything to criticize. Kudos. :>)

"S'nuts is what it is", she went on, squinting through lenses that looked as though they corrected a serious sight defect indeed,"firs's of all, why kill that poor chick? She ain' done nothin' to anybody! Makes no sense. You wanna gill somebody, the only one'o us anyb-un'd want to kill, I'd think somebody'd go after the chief." For emphasis, Kelly jabbed a thumb in Corban's direction, letting the arm fall limp to her side as she slowly slid her other hand back around her shot glass as if for support. "He's the one who changed the company so much. The rest of us're nothing, but he changed entire lives throught a company of...millions? Thousands? ANYway, that can'tve been entirely for good. Any of us who'd likely have somebody who wantso kill us (at work anyway) would be the boss, right?" She suddenly frowned and looked at her new friend worriedly. "...right?" Then the young accountant paled. "I feel sick," she had time to say before clutching her stomach and slowly folding over. (OOC: vote for Scruffy/Akallabeth)

This may sound jocular, but I mean it quite seriously- I read this, and I felt as well as thought several things. It flows so much like a hymn I could almost hear a joyful chorus filling a church with it from floor to rafters. It also conjuring half thought, half felt images of birds flying across bluest sky, the kind of blue you find only in the purest glaciers, and the last of the rain pat-pat-pattering down onto leaves and grass as the last of the clouds float away and the sun fills the sky. You brought all this to life when I read this- even though my roommate has been blaring an Eddie Izzard comedy special in the very next room the whole time, and there's no door inbetween... :>)

Sounds splendid. :>)

I'm in.

"It wasn't as if that costYeme was allthat incinspicous.", the now rather dour accountant grumbled to her fifth whiskey shot. "Someone woulda nodiced..." "Hi", she said, greeting the newcomer to her table with a bleary smile. Her glasses, now with a mask they were unaccustomed to clinging to in the way, promptly slid down to the tip of her nose. "Crap", was her only disgusted reply before shoving them back in place (more or less).