Ozymandias

P.S.- I haven't been able to clean out my PM inbox yet, so I cannot receive PMs at this time- BUT, pleas,e please e-mail me if you need to talk to me sooner than my scheduled return. I *am* still checking my e-mail.

Never, okay, few times in my life before have I wished so wholeheartedly to be nabbed by the Agents and plugged back into the Matrix. To rephrase that in terms of reality- I lost my net connection in my home, and so am back to commuting to a computer to get my internet time. Add that together with being rather phenomenally busy in my personal life for the past few weeks or so, and there you have the reason I have been so abruptly and regrettably absent from the Pen. I just wanted to drop this line for the several of you whom I know have been waiting to hear from me, and have not as well as anybody who's been patiently waiting who I *don't* know of. In short have been unable to think or *do* much at or for the Pen the past 3-4 weeks (maybe less- but anyway...), but just wanted to let y'all know I am okay, no, not a chance I have forgotten any of you (*especially* everyone who has been waiting to hear from me in particular. Sorry folks. {:>( ), and I *will* be back soon- in full - hopefully next week, but at the most the week after next week. Take care of yourselves, and each other. I miss all of you!

William sits in one of the plush wing-backed chairs, cigar clenched firmly in his teeth. His slitted eyes flash a cunning green in the sudden light of Luke's lit match as he went to light a smoke himself. "Bollux, that's what. Why should I trust any of you? What does my fate have to do with yours anyway?"

"Killed my sister, but we had a long, troubled history...have never met Mr. Kant in my life... suspect he is insane. Bloody Hell," William mutters around his Cuban. (OOC: Adelaide/Dragonqueen)

William walked out of Tom's makeshift cell, stumbling slightly, his drawn face giving the only full sign he had slept little the previous night. Without fanfare, he produced a cigar, cut it, and lit it, looking more relaxed almost immediately. "Well," he said in Luke's general direction, smiling grimly, "I'm glad that last night's fool's errand did not get you killed in particular. We need level heads to champion our cause, as much as we will no doubt need clever ones, or strong backs. And I was sorry indeed to see our levelest head go out to that damnable lighthouse because of the good Mr. Kant's assurances. I only hope that our Captain will not greet us with a loaded pistol, or some other such festive noisemaker", he finished in a growl. He took a long puff on his cigar.

William sits quietly as he listens to the recording, drink in hand, face cold. When it finishes, he stares at the machine for a long time as others recount their tragedies aloud, and silently.

At the poker table, William broke his strangely stonefaced counenance for the first time in the past hour with a sheepish grin and a chuckle. "Well fellows, confession time," he said, indicating his scant fifty dollars left on the table in front of him. "I'm an atrocious poker player, despite my grandfather's efforts to the contrary. He was quite an accomplished; traveled the world for his games, when he felt the inclination. Here's hoping I may learn something tonight! Do any of you have as illustrious a background in the cards as you seem to?"

With dinner in full sway, the banter and chatter, friendly and otherwise was at it's peak as well. "Charming accomodations, eh M'Lady Melia?", William grinned inbetween mouthfuls of flank steak. "Seems our illustrious host may have some distinct feelings on the black folk", he said with a knowing wink and elbow to the ribs of Luke Jesson, whom he had companionably welcomed to sit next to him. Turning back to Lady Melia's fetching eyes, he let his own wander up the ceiling breifly as he twirled his fork- with a bit of meat still on the end of it- absently as he spoke. "Can't say as I really agree with such sentiments, though, eh? I've traveled with many a nigger myself, on our holidays to Africa- they do make smashing guides, hunters, and porters, you know! - they seem like decent enough chaps. Bit dull-witted, perhaps, but good sorts all the same in my book." Suddenly William's lambent eyes flashed as he glanced down the table. "Ah! Tom, was it? Pass the wine this way, old sport!"

*embraces Cryptomancer* You're a good man, Crypt. I have it on good authority; and I can tell it by myself as well. A beautiful, heartwrenching piece.

His hand was taken and pumped with vigor. Horton had a steely grip, Luke was mildly surprised to note. "Call me Will, William, Bill, Billiam, Billy...whatever you please, really. Just don't call me Mister Horton. Makes me feel too much like I'm still at the offices.", the smile fairly purred at him.

"Welcome to the fallout: where the truth and the shadows have become blurred. This is the incompletion... and we are holding our breath. But look! The winds of redemption have come to within the confines of our frozen fists. 'Behold, I make all things new.' And in this newness, there is hope for the hopeless, where the eternal lines of the heavens collide with our own humanity. In the divine comedy where up is down and down is up we lose ourselves to find ourselves. Love is the movement. This is the revolution." -Switchfoot, Learning to Breathe

Have you ever abruptly shot straight through fear, anguish, and rage to the other side? Have you ever wondered if the strange habit people have of handing a cashier a handful of bills all facing up, except for the topmost one facedown is an Illuminati plot? Have you ever gotten a haircut and realized that 'that scar' is still there? Have you ever been drinking decaffeinated coffee and felt less of yourself for it? Have you ever performed caffeine tolerance experiments on yourself? Have you ever done it just because you were curious?

Grinning toothily at the Captain from his place at the railing, the young man with the flashing green eyes, flame orange hair, and suit of the finest silk and satin drawing at least a glance from even the men, so magnetic was his look, sanguine energy, and graceful bearing as he stepped forward smoothly, purposefully when the man finished his speech. By distinct looks, carriage, and youth, most present quickly recognized him as William Christopher Horton V, oil magnate, wealthy even out of all the other old British Middle Eastern oil baronies- and noted "party enthusiast". All present grudgingly or otherwise could see why he was so noted, though none of them had met William before. The sheer enthusiasm he seemed to radiate felt as though it lifted their own spirits. Inhaling theatrically, William let the breath go with a wistful sigh. "Now this is class! A savior-faire that is all too uncommon in this day and age. Even a ferry out to the grand estate- as though we were medieval nobility arriving at a royal feast!", he laughed. "Grand!" His smile slips briefly, as he seems to move and look around for a drink, and of course finds none on the ship. "Ah well. There shall be ample opportunity for toasting this eve, I shouldn't wonder", he smiled disarmingly at Adelaide. Throwing his arms wide enough to force Luke Jesson to step quickly out of the way to avoid a blow to the chin (though William seemed to notice this not at all), William declared loudly to all, "The last of the great soirees of the inestimable Hunbe Kant! Ha! This will be a party to remember!"

It drenched everyone rather quickly, as summer thunderstorms are wont to do; the exception being that they normally don't turn all they fall on a deep, rich purple.

Ozymandias sings, in a rich basso profundo that overturns furniture and has people hanging otno their fillings for dear life: Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthdfay, dear Jaaammmeeeeez! Happy Birthday to you! And many morrrrrrrre....! Suddenly, Ozymandias is nowehere to be seen, but there is now a grey timber wolf, yipping excitedly, and chasing its tail around inbtween barking at passsers-by.

Katz already answered Crypt's question perfectly, on where the guilds are and how to get there, but I thought this would be a perfect time to get the full reason for the guilds (which Katz already mentioned most of, actually) all in one place. The rest of the purpose (and the reasons they were founded to begin with) behind our guilds, as well and succinctly said by Ayshela: To echo Katz, all questions are welcome.

Dear Appy and Rune, The tension you see comes from those times we all have in our lives when we have been hurt so badly that we watch *everyone* as a potential source of harm; friends and enemies alike. The Pen is no exception to this, because we, as a community are still made up of people, and this is just a natural reaction that human beings have. The Pen remains the same community you grew to know and love, but even in the very best situations, no matter how well people on this site may be willing to treat you, others in your life won't be so supportive or friendly. Not all others, mind you. But *some* just won't care about hurting you. Problems have reared their heads here more often lately than they have in the past, but I say it speaks to the strength of our community how infrequently they do happen, and how much support is given when our personal problems *do* bleed out onto others, no matter how hard we try to make sure they don't. ...I can attest to that from personal experience more times than I like to admit.. Don't give up, please. Don't give up even on smaller things here; even if it's not a question of giving up on the Pen. We'd still be losing a part of you. I know the Pen would not be the same without either of you. And I'd miss each of you. Regel, I'm glad I offered helpful words. I always try to...but the results tend to be a mixed bag. I'm *very* glad I could in this.

...teeny little color changing action figures should never be as funny as *I* have found them...

Sal- 1936, off the coast of Great Britain. Look at Celes' first post, hon. :>) Celes- Count me in!

Once the day began to wind down, and well-wishers finally stopped coming, Yui slipped off into the lengthening shade to take her daily walk (and make daily rounds). Eyes flickering ever back and forth from dark to light, she caught something else nearby, moving through the deeper shadows...out of the places where shadows live that light never reaches. Knowing all too well the things that call that realm home, Yui stepped closer to the light (where most such things were blind) and tensed for fight or flight. It was, much as she had feared, a Shadow Monster- one of the oldest denizens of Terra lost that had followed archmage masters to the lands of The Pen is Mightier than the Sword, like other Terran creatures, much more powerful in their new even richer in magic home, as well as being a barely controlled force, even under the most powerful of wizards, for their minds were simply too alien. The strange thing was, it was alone. For as long as Yui had known of the creatures it was unheard of that one would be found with neither a pack of its' brethren, nor an archmage master. The huntress readied herself for anything. What she remained unprepared for, however, was upon its methodic closing of the distance, the receiving of a bouquet of Moon Flowers from its ethereal arms. Her eyes widened in surprise as the Shadow Monster up this historic non sequitur with yet another; with a stiff bow that rather mimicked a folding piece of cloth, it departed back into the deep dark. Standing there still in the waning light, examining her gift in wonder, the white and red blossoms finished their nightly bloom before Yui's eyes. These were very fresh. She quickly noticed a small note tied around the flowers with a bit of string. Untying the paper, she read: Dear Yui, Many Happy Returns of the day! Sincerely, ...all that followed underneath the close was a swatch of blue watercolor paint.

Have you ever had bubble wrap, and coffee, and known that that did indeed 'make it all better'? Runs after Mynx wielding a freshly brewed pot of Sumatra and trailing several yards of bubble wrap

*giggles* An Ice Elemental in a metallic blue party hat, standing on the fringes of the crowd gives the little demonness a wave, and showers Crchon's head with the resultant fall of icicles when it smiles.

Have you ever tipped your hat and stopped to chat awhile?

Again, I have to agree with Katz. How is that so? As for Ayshela and Alaeha's thoughts: Reg, I think you should've added instructions needed for the question in the initial writeup- I can see where they both have that opinion, the way it was written up; the question, and your response to our responses. Many of us did not follow the strictures you'd built the questions in, and so you needed some to rethink how they answered, so that all could be discussing what you really meant. That's fair. However, Not that I think that you were judging whether or not our answers were 'good enough', but I can easily see where they both, and maybe some readers came to the conclusion. Pax, everyone. Peace. We're all on the same side, here.

Ozymandias, much to the booth operators' surprise, approaches in his very grandest finery, jewels and armor glinting in the sun. Upon his first step up to the front of the booth, he bows as formally as all of them have ever seen any ruler do. Straightening, with the barest hint of a smile, but still utterly serious he greets them, "Lords and Ladies. Well met, on this auspicious occasion." With that, he strode forward slowly, but purposefully, while removing a small coin purse from his belt. Carefully placing thirty-two geld in the coffer, he first turned to Xaious. Clasping the younger man by the shoulders, he smiles more openly now. "Xaious." He kisses Xaious on each cheek, in the formal yet friendly manner of far off lands long forgotten. "It is always good to see you, my friend. May this grand festival end only in joy for you." Next, he moves to Salinye. "Lady Salinye", he greets her simply, the warmth evident in his eyes. In one motion so fluid and garceful Salinye follows along automatically- before really thinking about it as all old courtly habits remind her that they yet exist, and are healthy- Ozymandias bows as deeply as his waist and dress will permit, while taking her hand gently but firmly in his in so close timing to when she offered it that it seemed they moved in perfect synch; and he kissed her hand, gently, respectfully, and briefly. Straightening, he smiles at her too. Next, he moves to Ayshela. Going to one knee in front of the maiden, he takes her hand as carefully and in as genteel a manner as he had Salinye's, and kisses her fingers softly. Looking up calmly, letting her hand go- perhaps a tiny bit slowly - his smile remains unchanged in its' open declaration of happiness and friendship, but the malestrom of emotion in his eyes glows like a torch in it's joyful dance, even in the bright midday sun. He bows his head respectfully once before rising to his feet, and turns his gaze away from her almost regretfully. Standing as if to address all four once more, Ozymandias instead has an odd look in his eye as he arches an eyebrow at Zool. Lowering his brow, face serene once more, he inclines his head to the afflicted old bard in his painting, and says airily, mysteriously, "You'll get yours..." with a knowing look at his friend. Stepping back a few paces, Ozymandias makes another courtly bow as he had upon entering their booth, and bids them farewell for today.