Ozymandias

Suddenly, a booming feminine voice echoes throughout the room: WITH TRUE LOVE'S KISS, THE SPELL IS BROKEN! Just like that, Ugh Bah's corpse begins to move. "Ew", says Ozymandias. The oily, torn and rotted flesh begins to rise like yeast. "Ugh", says Ozymandias. The rising and falling of the body's skin and muscle accelerates, becoming more and stacatto, looking more and more like boiling meat. *Hurk*!, says Ozymandias, all over the floor, the front of his robe, and his nice new sandals. Finally, the bubbling and frothing reaches a height nearly twice that of Ugh Bah, and the entire mass splits open like an egg. CRRACK! The two halves of the much-abused corpse fall away to reveal not one, but two men standing there, looking dapper in matching navy blue suits: former U.S. presidents Jimmy Carter and Bill Clinton. "Peanuts!", declares Jimmy happily. "COOTIES!", shrieks Clinton at the ominous sandwich, before turning on his heel and running for his life, never to be seen again. "I'm going back to bed," says Ozymandias.

It's Moria. Something tells me we'll meet something unfiriendly enough...

It's eerie to think that I *know* people like Lexi. ...not to mention the fact that this play made perfect sense to me. \;>) I like it.

Jin nodded dumbly to Linador. It was long moments before he could speak to the horsemaster, but once he could, his first words were, "Thank you, my friend. You are ever a soothing balm in dark times." The corner of Jin's mouth quirked upward into a pained smile. "No pun intended." He sighed heavily as he walked on, ever more careworn, but now more than ever a walking beacon of warmth and brightness for all in the all-consuming blackness. "I'm gladder than ever of levelheaded folk like yourself being with us, Linador. We need the elves now more than ever - your people for once not for your lore (though I am certain that each of you in particular, being kith and kin of Elrond's house know much of such places as this pit, as learned as every elf seems to be.)," he halted to take a gulp of air, as if he had been forgetting to breathe. "Ahh. No, moreso for the likelihood that you, or Jagkatha, or Baelstimah, or even brash Mattias could indeed detect that which all the rest of us cannot, and sneak upon foes before they could strike at us. Woe be to those who incur the wrath of an elf-lord! Your end will be swift and terrible!" Jin let out a short, choking laugh. Linador and Baelstimah were first to note in some alarm that in the stale yet cool air, Jin had begun to perspire heavily. "I have oft longed for the senses and cunning of an elf in the dark; now I long a hundred times as much.", he continued, now muttering to himself. "How do you walk so comfortably, friend Linador, when the ceiling is scarcely higher than my head?"

To be certain, Wyv, it's not every year I get happy birthdayed by a dwarf, two quadrupeds (one being minty fresh, no less), almost a dragon, a Zool, a rugrat, and two elves. Heh. Thank you all. P.S.- My everlasting sympathies to Daryl. \;>)

Jin sat, breathing hard for the first time on the journey. "May the winds of peace and the eyes of your ancestors guide you on your journey," he said quietly. Shutting his eyes for a moment, the jeweler shuddered and opened them again. Setting one lantern to each side, Jin unlimbered his pack and began to rummage about in it. Upon producing a candle, he lit it with a lantern flame with something approaching reverence. Filk took notice of this as the dwarf began to fix the candle firmly into a fitted slot in the crown of the iron cap he wore. With hope of raising spirits perhaps just an little, the good-natured hobbit began to make a jest at so many lights on one person, before being stopped by a warning hand on his shoulder from Garnorn. Filk looked up at the ranger in uncertain silence, then back at Jin. The jeweler's hands shook.

Jin caught conversation in low tones from those around him. Low, except for Stoomp and Filk, of course. It had been so since the strange slaying of their pack mule. The event nagged at his mind as well, of course, but he had tried hard not to think about it; he tried not to think about what would likely already be following them in the dark. He worked his mind stubbornly now to distract himself as those thoughts began to creep back in. He'd head the party's names going from ear to ear more often, it seemed, in those private conversations. Jin had no way of knowing, of course, for he had kept a polite distance when it was clear folk wanted to talk amongst themselves only - so he caught only murmurs and half-heard words. Still, he wondered. Anything at all was good for the fellowship's erstwhile gemcutter to wonder about at this hour. Night had begun to fall again. Even in the cold, Jin began to sweat. He detached a second lantern from his belt.

Jin strode forward uncomplaining, balancing the now awkward load on his back while using both hands to wield and simultaneously protect his perpetual lantern as he had done for hours now. It had been easy enough, at first, while he had been carrying only his planned supplies, but now with the log as long and thick as one of his legs strapped to his pack as well as the sackfull of green leaves he had filled to most of the Fellowship's bewilderment when they first reached Caradhras, it had become increasingly difficult to continue his 'juggling' on the steepening climb and in accelerating winds. Jin had looked extremely vexed for a few miles now, and continued to until he too was accosted by Filk and the his kind offer. The dwarf's irritated face relaxed considerably, and he even came to a full stop as he turned to address the hobbit. "Thank you, lad. It already promises to be an arduous journey, and I think that this is an excellent way to start it off right," he said, taking the offered piece of candy and, carefully setting his lantern down on a rock, promptly popping the sweet into his mouth. Reflecting on fond thoughts of desserts at Elrond's table as he chewed, the beleaguered jeweler's heart felt unladen, if only for a moment, before thoughts of the quest, what drove them on it, and what was already transpiring occupied him again. But this time, instead of becoming discouraged, he offered Filk his wineskin. "Here, it'll take the edge off cold and tiredness." (Turin/Akallabeth)

The Rivendell players already have this information. Here's my character info for the rest of you. *He's got fire-red hair and blue eyes *he wears a bronze clasp on the end of his beard fashioned to look like an orc skull *very ruddy skin *He's about dwarf middle-age (however old THAT is) *He's a skilled jeweler (especially when it comes to precious metals) *near-phobia level fear of the dark *constantly has a light source at hand (usually a candle, out of respect for others' nostrils and eyes. It's basically a candle-sized hurricane lamp) *is polite enough and friendly enough, but tends to put his work (and others' artwork) first (with the one exception of being fiercely loyal to Elrond and his entire family) *becomes quite nervous in the dark, and with prolonged time in darkness , his fear increases proportionately, as well as gives rise to paranoid hostility (but ONLY after long, unlit by nothing more than moon and stars time periods, or long time periods spent with a light in deep darkness) *he is an art lover (loves to study sculpture of all kinds) *he was found in the wild by Elrond four years ago, half-starved, dehydrated, and gibbering. *he was taken in by Elrond, and nursed back to health. *He has lived in Rivendell ever since *he has no memory of who he is, how he got here, or where he came from, except for his name, and his father's name, and how to expertly work precious metals and gems. *his "night terrors" have been increasing in intenisty over the past year, despite the loremasters' and healers' best efforts *he is going as a member of the fellowship because his general unease at night has been steadily increasing over the past year. A practical dwarf, his amnesia does not trouble him much, but the increase in his fear of the dark has finally pushed him to decide that he must be rid of it- he loves his elf friends and their artwork too dearly to let himself become a liability, or worse, a danger to the community. His only theory on how to make his fear stop is to see that the centerpiece of the 'lord of all evil's power is destroyed, and it only strengthens his resolve to go that Elrond is the one who asked for protectors to go with the ring. Have fun!

Jin found himself still occupied with picking bits of dinner out of his clothes as Stoomp made his way once more toward Jagkatha. His eyes widened in alarm as he took in this new tableau. "Agh, lad, hasn't this meal become legendary enough for you?", he muttered to himself. Still he sat, and cleaned, and watched. It was not that he had any particular like or dislike for either injured party. It was just that being a maker and trader of delicate things, Jin had (as soon as he had seen Stoomp in action for the first time) conscientiously avoided meeting him for the express purpose of not alerting Stoomp to the fact that Jin was a jeweler. Finally, the feeling of impending doom hung so heavily above his kinsman that Jin had to act. "Stoomp, m'boy! May I have your assistance with something?", he called out, just loudly enough for his volume to be considered polite.

Well, yes I am.And proud of it, too. Next person that starts the song 'short people' gets in the ankle. /grins /stands atop a stepstool, microphone in hand "Short people got no reason to live..." /sings, while dramatically flourishing his beard

Jin (rhymes with 'spin'), son of Jalen, at your service. Other than the fact I am very much a dwarf, that's all I can tell you for now. \:>P 'sgood to be back in.

Congratulations to Nightfae, Azuran, and Evangeline. You've earned it. :>)

Spring had found the lands of the Pen is Mightier than the Sword at last. Even though the tempertaures had several times already been more akin to summertime, all of the denizens of The Mighty Pen keep had been luxuriating in the the bright sun, warm and cool breezes, and lush greenery as much as possible. Today Evangeline was giving a recital in the Library, and she remained pleasantly surprised at how many had shown up for it. Her audience listened serenely, some swaying slightly to the music, others with eyes closed and basking in the rhythms, others sipping thoughtfully at wine and other drinks, and so on as she played a delicate, almost songbirdlike rendition of "Angel of Music" (a longtime favorite springtime song for her) on a wooden flute. L'kaira dae Frendsul, a newcomer who had arrived at the same time as Evangeline, was among the audience members who simply sat still, eyes closed, listening. Sitting still, that is, until Nightfae burst in through the Library doors and slammed them home behind her. L'kaira's eyes snapped open. Both women erased all thought of the performance in those gathered with one simultaneously uttered word: "Invaders." The cry went up throughout the castle. The Library doors shuddered with a terrific impact, and Nightfae's normally ivory-hued skin went a shade whiter. "HELP ME LOCK THIS!", she screamed, already frantically wrestling with the massive lockbolt. Dozens sped to her aid even as they all became aware of harsh cries and animal howls coming from outside. The sounds of battle began a moment later. Weapons were drawn or quickly improvised. Some folk ran immediately for cover. First to notice the angry scarlet streaks on Nightfae's normally pristine skin, the faceless cloaked form of Azuran swept forward and carried her off toward the infirmary. "Are you insane???", she yelled at him. "We'll be killed!!" A demure, monotone voice emanated from the dark hood above her. "First - yes, I am. Second - no we won't." "How do YOU know?" "I know my way around these things," he replied softly. Then the landscape around them became a blur of colors and a vast rushing of wind. Before the poor evening sprite had a chance to finish her first gasp for the breath that had been instantly sucked from her lungs, she saw the surroundings of what looked like an infirmary. It was deserted. Dropping to the floor after the cloaked phantom gently set her down, she sucked in air greedily. "How...?", she finally managed to ask. "Did we get here safely? A little trick I learned from compatriots outside The Pen. I can only do it the once, but we'll be safe he-" the voice broke off midsentence as Azuran bent hooded head down to look almost quizzically at his feet. She followed his gaze and would've blanched at the angry gash in his robe at mid shin level that was already a deep, dark red, and at the rapidly widening pool of blood at his feet if she'd had the energy. "Oh dear", her rescuer said before collapsing in a heap on the floor. Nightfae's eyes widened briefly, before narrowing into disgust. "Safe. Uh-huh." She slowly raised herself to her feet and hurried to the fallen man's side. Pulling back his hood so he could breathe more easily, she was surprised to see a young man scarcely older than herself. After elevating his legs, quickly searching out bandages and leeches (just in case), and elevating his leg once it was dressed as best she could make it, the young fae took stock of her surroundings. It was actually solid stone all around Azuran and she, save the door they had come in. Then again... she mused, maybe he was right.. Nightfae got her already aching muscles in motion once more, shut the door, and bolted it. She wandered back to her "patient" with a sigh. Just wish I had a weapon. Then a small blessing presented itself. The girl's dusk-attuned eyes spotted, in the back of an open cabinet, an assortment of lollipops. Nightfae allowed herself a small smile. I hope they have grape. That'd make waiting easier. She checked the cup of sweets, and found there were in fact plenty of grape flavored ones. Then a large blessing presented itself. Something odd was just barely outlined in the darkest corner of the cabinet, right behind the lollipops. She reached back -carefully- to retrieve it. The thing turned out to be a loaded crossbow. Her jaw sagged slightly as she turned it gently in her hands. Someone's got a sick sense of humor. Turning to the door, she grinned fiercely. Awesome. Crashing noises and shouting began to echo, muffled through the door. All other places, the battle was joined. The enemy had sprung seemingly from nowhere, and swarmed the castle in the thousands. They crashed against the main gate, a tidal wave of steel, curses and bloodlust, and it buckled, but did not break. The tide receded, and redoubled back as an even greater wave, and this time, instead of the other way around, the wave dashed the rocks. They were inside the walls that quickly. The soldiers screamed, spraying blood and froth from many mouths as they put everything to the torch they could and chased down every Pennite they came across. Many were slain before they even reached the gate when a hail of arrows erupted from every window. But it was not enough. They spread through the castle and its' grounds in what seemed minutes. Daryl the werefox and Tanuchan harried the eastern flank almost by themselves. In a glittering explosion of glass, Falcon leapt through his window bellowing, "YIPPEE-KAY YAY, N00b!", killing one dressed like a commander instantly with a blow from his computer monitor. Explosions and thunderclaps punctuated the clash of weapons and the voices of men. Suddenly, a creature of purest black appeared in front of each member of The Pen is Mightier than the Sword. They flailed about strangely, their movements showing no discernible target or purpose. These new arrivals demonstrated their effectiveness just as quickly as they had appeared, however, when their jerky limbs connected with enemy flesh. Every one of the hundreds of Pennites had quickly noticed that these creatures seemed to occupy only the first and second dimension; not the third. The result of such things being placed into a battlefield was that even without specific targets, their random strikes sliced neatly and effortlessly through all flesh, armor and weaponry they came in contact with - all, except for the Pennities', whom they stayed resolutely apart from. Then with one voice, they addressed the whole of the castle's inhabitants. It was Ozymandias, the Loremaster's voice. Things seem grim, my friends; I know. But we have faced worse than this as a fortress, and as a family. We will come through safely. Deep in the halls, the enemy soldiers rushed a door that hung in the air. To their mild surprise, it swung open as they closed with it. To their great surprise, the door and its doorframe had revealed rows of jagged, wickedly edged teeth. Unnoticed in the ensuing tumult one solider ran through the southern end of that hallway with two squirrels on his head. He howled now in pain as they savaged the soft flesh of the human head for all they were worth. "For THE ACOOOORRRNS!", screamed one triumphantly. "YOU'RE NUTS, YOU KNOW THAT?", screamed back the other. Ozymandias continued. A phrase many of us know and love is "The Pen is Mightier than the Sword". This phrase is not literally true. At that moment, his concentration on directing his shadow creature minions was briefly broken as his sword was swatted from his hand by a particularly massive invader with a cruel sneer on his lips. The Loremaster barely parried the incoming disembowling blow with a new weapon he had hurriedly produced from his belt - a quill pen. Though his opponent's axe still bit deeply into his skin, still Ozymandias wore a smile as he leapt away from it. "Not literally true, except for this one. Always knew a mithril pen would come in - HANDY!", he said with a grunt as he rammed the quill tip inbtween the unprotected bones of his opponent's wrist. The man spluttered a curse as Ozymandias took up control of the shadow creatures again. Another thing you may have heard around here often is "We're all about the writing". This is also technically true. However, the truest heart of the matter is that we are about the message. For we are of one accord in this - whether we focus ourselves today on ourselves first, others first, or somewhere inbetween. This brings us togther absolutely and always because we none of us live in isolation - every action we take has a result that ripples throughout the lives of those we encounter, and the lives of those they encounter, and so on, until it comes back to us, and begins again. "Stop ignoring me-URGH", was the last thing the axe-wielding man said before katana protruding from his chest killed him. "Luckily for you, you're right", said Gyrfalcon dryly to the Loremaster as he removed his sword from the falling corpse and wiped it on the grass. Ozymandias bowed respectfully to his friend. These foes we fight today are the footsoldiers of fear, anger, and sadness. They find us sometimes, even here, and we must remain true to our message. For while they are given inhuman strength, and subhuman morals, they are only men. Gripping the branch tightly, Ayshela swung out with such force behind her kick to the pikeman's head that he toppled like a tree. She finished with a graceful somersault dismount to the ground that any olympic gymnast would have been proud of. It's about the people. This simple message is the driving force behind why we are here, for it is the one thing they and their masters cannot destroy - that which physical brutality cannot touch, that which a mind devoid of compassion and love cannot comprehend to injure with even the deepest cutting tounge. The shadow creatures fell silent and motionless as did all other Pen defenders; for moments after Ozymandias had spoken his last words, a great column of flame descended from the heavens into the heart of the invasion force. It was an aweesome sight; uncountable stories high, and hundreds of feet wide, it moved methodically through the enemy, deftly avoiding Pennites each time any were too near. The attacking soldiers who were not incinerated fled in full rout back the way they came, where Tzimfemme and Yui were waiting to seal the way behind them. Daryl, in full human form, trotted up alongside Ozymandias and Gyrfalcon as they checked for casualties. Still Craning his neck to watch the column chase the last of the invaders away, the werefox let out a low whistle. "Damn, Oz. You are fond of the dramatic, aren't you?" "I didn't do that," was all Daryl got in reply. Ozymandias wore a bemused look. --------- Rescue workers found, to their lasting delight, that though injuries were numerous, no-one but enemy had been killed that day. --------- The rescue squad headed by the empath Mea eventually discovered a beleaguered, but definitely live Nightfae and Azuran, still in the infirmary. Azuran, favoring a leg but standing resolutely with his sword drawn and white rose adorned mail defiantly displayed relaxed visibly when familiar faces burst through the door. A body that looked like the work of one of the shadow creatures had nearly blocked the entrance, and two more lay in front of Nightfae, who was still breathing hard and wielding a bloodied crossbow like a club. Only one of the fallen men had a quarrel in him. "Somebody...needs to stock...more ammunition in here", she said with a glare.

Ozymandias staggered away from the party room, hands still reflexively clutching at his eyes. "so...many...primary...colors...", he moaned. He turned the corner even as Gryphon did; luckily for him his winged compatriot, though flying low, was quite adept at sudden stops. "Ozy?" came the concerned squawk. "Gryphon?" The Loremaster's face became the picture of relief. "Oh good. It IS you. For a moment I thought you were another one of those shiny balloon animals that seem to be burned into my retinas. So...very...shiny...ow..." He trailed off in a whimper. Happy Birthday, Dude.

*immediately takes a nap so he can dream rev up a cake* Happy Birthday. :>)

*inhales deeply and hugs Sweetcherrie* Yay! There're nothing but incredible minds and hearts everywhere you look on this board. I want that to be perfectly clear. There's also not one mind here (yes, even YOU, Doc. I remember those 'humorous posts', and being an afcionado of fine humor, I have a pretty dang good idea of how hard it is to come up with new jokes for years at a stretch, let alone consistently funny ones.), no mind at all, who isn't creative AND skilled. Creative people however tend to have very passionate beliefs about many things in their lives. It's why society so looks to writers, painters, sculptors, and other artists for inspiration, understanding, and security. That passion, backing up our actions, makes us leaders for those who *don't* have it. That same passion also makes it difficult to communicate with each other sometimes. Because well, being fiercely dedicated to what you say can easily make you stubborn, and even startling (to anyone who isn't usesd to someone investing intense emotion into what they say). Heck, even I still get almost high school dance levels of nervous when I talk to several of our peers here. Their personalities are simply that powerful. But they're no threats - not to the way you think, not to people's opinion of you, not to what good things you pull from this site and its people. This is true for those who speak loudly and quietly - I'm sure we all know that someone doesn't need to yell to make thyemselves known as a force to reckoned with. Everyone here just feels very, very strongly about a certain issue or issues, issues that differ, of course from person to person - and when we come across one of our fellow Pennites' heartfelt beliefs, we need to remember that just because they may come across as angry, saddended, amused, frightened, or any other permutation of deep emotion, does not mean that they are A - wrong or B - close-minded. All it means is that they feel strongly about something. We all try not to step on one anothers' toes, and of course, being only human, sometimes we succeed, sometimes we don't. But we keep the effort up, no matter what. We all do. I know this because I watch all of you, and no one has disappointed me yet. So in cases like the discussion which started from camel's lonely little post, all else that needs to be done beyond extending an olive branch to someone - be it in the form of a friendly joke for them, or an adamant cry for fairness for them, or anything between or beyond- is to remember that we're friends here, and ALL people who do care, and need to approach one another calmly, considerately, and patiently (even if it takes a while to get to such a state of mind. It's still worth it.). Danke. Peace out.

Sweetcherrie, if you pull your wonderful humor from the boards, I'll, I'll... hold my breath 'til you put it back! One thing every post on this thread seems to have forgotten is that in amidst all the excellent points brought up by everyone (yes, I mean everyone) is the simple, yet key ingredient to all of this... I see no evidence of wanderingcamel having taken offense. Do you? And, to be totally fair, wanderingcamel, if you *were*, and simply haven't said so - I apologize. As for the rest of the thread, yes indeed, you are welcome at The Pen. *eyes the contents of the thread from camel's post thru his own* Brain hurt yet? /me wanders off, singing, "This is the Ultimate Showdown...of Ultimate Destiny..."

"Xenonated xeric Xanthippe xerographs xylophone xylem x rays' x-axis, Xn. Xenophanes." [Loosely translated: "A well-lit greek (yeah, I used the fact that she was Athenian to be synonmous with 'being adapted to a dry environment', so *THBBBBBBBPPPPPT* on you. ;>) ) made copies of the x-axis on the x rays of a xylophone's wooden parts, christian philosopher Xenophanes."] Let's hear it for Funk & Wagnalls New Encyclopedia, Vol. 28, 1983 and The Random House Dictionary, 1978!! C'mon! Put your hands together!!!! I still can't believe I found an adjective that begins with 'x'. :>D

B.N.- One of the reasons I love your poetry is that I can always almost hear music when I read your pieces. These, of course, don't disappoint. :>)

I don't share with people in real life often, partly because I have yet to master my chronic writer's block (I come to a grinding halt on work, ideas, etc. on an estimated 9 out of every 10 projects) and largely because I know very few people in my non-net life who are at all interested in wiriting and/or my own. So, thank you all - for *being* interested. You keep me going. :>)

Probably Ozymandias, or maybe the Grim Squeaker...either of which is probably more likely if you were on archmage. Around here I tend to be a bit quiet. All I really wanted to do was let you know you'd been welcomed as a friend before and are being so again. ^^

*bows deeply* Always good to see a friend again.

Likewise very gald to see you and even gladder to hear the good news! Merry Christmas indeed. :>)

*huggles Appy* Missed you too, my confused hairsplitter. :>) Thank you everyone. (I digs tha' new smilies I do!!!)