Ozymandias

YEA, VERILY, YON WEREWOLF HUNTING MORTALS, I BRING TO THEE A MESSAGE FROM ON THY WOLFMASTAH (DEANTHEADEQUATE): "Voting is closed for today; I'll do a writeup tomorrow." THUS SPAKE DEANATHUSA.

Ozymandias dusts off his trusty soapbox and carefully places it in the middle of the Cabaret before mounting it, face grim. I stand before you today, a sadder, but hopefully wiser man. The matter that brought this up? Our guilds. As some of you know, and many do not, while I was not one of the conceptulaizers of the guilds, I was instrumental in their approval, and added my own loose, but hopefully tight enough definition to them so that they would best help us grow and learn as a community. That definition was simply: The guilds should be a place where any member (with the matter of *when* people would be admitted being quickly decided to be best left in the Guildleaders' hands) of The Pen is Mightier than the Sword may go to get an increased, even intense study of their chosen writing genre (Poetry, Storytelling, and/or Roleplaying). To wit: the guilds would each be solely focused on the improvement of their members in their 'home genre'. How was this to be done? I gave the Guildleaders sole jurisdiction and authority over how things were done/created; myself and Gwaihir retaining final say. The more time passed, the more my schedule fluctuated (as usual), and the more I heard complaints and general ill feeling coming from outside observers and guildleaders alike. I figured that if I was needed, I would be called. I thought that everything could and would be settled equitably in a short enough period of time. As it stood at the end of last month, at least (that having been followed by a monthlong period of quiet, at least on the boards during May) things had not been settled, and misunderstanding, utter lack of support for our fellows, ugly feelings and words still ran thick and high, with little apology or constructive thought offered at all. It had gotten to the point that I was both embarrassed and very angered at the petty, vindicitve, and seemingly determined narrow-minded conduct of many of the members of our community involved in the situation, or who simply "gave their opinion". It got to the point, literally, until this morning that I was ready to at least metaphorically take a pretty damn big hammer to a lot of skulls to finally lay the matter to just rest. Until I took a few hours, and read back through all the backlog of discussion threads on the 'guild purpose' lines of thinking and thought very hard on what I read there. I realized I had been not only an idiot, but one who was arguably the FIRST who ignored the real status of our guilds, from conception to present and made his own comfortable, completely uninformed decisions, and feeling very righteous in those thoughts indeed. I've been an utter asshole, and the one ultimately responsible for every misunderstanding, every hurt, every bit of anger, just or unjust on the matter. I gave the go ahead, gave out the mission statement and paid little enough attention to be no attention to everything else that happened up until the past two or three weeks. Like it or not, I AM the final authority on this site. I am the Loremaster, The Administrator, the Founder, whatever you want to call me. I did not come up with the idea, as I said, but I got the guilds started, and as such, could have quite easily just done some reading and stuck to my guns: The guildleaders are in charge, answering in the creation and running of the guilds to myself and Gwai. They are also barely even a year old yet. The Pen itself, as a website, is well over three, and I'll tell everyone this: We the Elders are still figuring out what it is exactly we're doing here. Keep that in mind when/if you go to criticize this new venture. Instead of doing even that minimum, what did I do? Hid myself away behind all the aspects of my responsibilty to the Pen that I was more comfortable with. Confusion, anger, pain, and frustration reigned as a result. To all the guildleaders, I am sorry. To everyone else who honestly tried to help and got lost in the shuffle one way or another, I am sorry. For reasons I'd like to keep private for now, I have decided against stepping down as Loremaster because of this. However, if anyone would like to move for that, please say so, and I and the other Elders will put it to discussion immediately.

No! I was too late! Wait!! Who's that coming in now...? CHEETARA OF THE THUNDERCATS?? Dramatic pause as boots and an orange bodysuit hit the floor, discarded. ... I think my heart just stopped. Oh, wait...

Dear Katzaniel, I am not a man given to simplicity, but today I feel that I must surmount my final hurdle and be as direct with you as I may. Well over three thousand years have passed on my home, the Earth since I left it. When I had left, Moses had led his people, the Israelites from my land, under the order of their god, I Am. To some this seems direct enough. To me, it was not. I sought at every turn to block the leaving of thousands of slaves; the people that I can now say were a cornerstone of my Egypt's prosperity. I did all could, even in the face of the ruination of my crops, my land, my water, even the sickness and death of my people. Even the death of my own son. Still, I rode in one last sortie against these people who had done me no wrong, only to the devastation of my armies. I survived, only to be exiled to a Hellish world where I found not new promise, but instead being robbed of my kingdom and murdered over and over again. I would have gone insane were it not for the oblivion of drink. Such was the price of my pride. But now I know he has forgiven me, the god I Am, and I may continue my days in joy and peace. For he has given me another new world, and he has given me you. Semper fidelis, Ramses

Having left Vincent Van Ghoul to gloat over Flim Falm's recent...violation, Miroku turns once again to his fellow competitors for aid (after a long and more than somewhat nonsensical questioning of the fans and arena crew) just in time to see Yukito collapse. Sprinting toward the fallen boy, he begins shouting, "MEDIC!"

This'll be SUCH a freeform riff, I have no idea where it'll go, but 'ey; what the heck. Lost is the state in which one does not know where one is located in some sense of the word 'location'; this can also be applied to the known location of an object. Lost is all too often looked on as negative state of being, even though such tried and true sources as the Webster's Dictionary say it is "Pronunciation: 'lost Function: adjective Etymology: past participle of lose 1 : not made use of, won, or claimed 2 a : no longer possessed b : no longer known 3 : ruined or destroyed physically or morally : DESPERATE 4 a : taken away or beyond reach or attainment : DENIED <regions lost to the faith> b : INSENSIBLE, HARDENED <lost to shame> 5 a : unable to find the way b : no longer visible c : lacking assurance or self-confidence : HELPLESS 6 : RAPT, ABSORBED <lost in reverie> 7 : not appreciated or understood : WASTED <their jokes were lost on me>" That's a whole lot of lack, shunning, and disregard in one little entry. Being lost can be pretty bad. Is it *all* bad? I say thee nay! As much as not having a feeling or knowledge of 'one's place', as it were, breeds fear and anxiety, I think it's safe to say that that state of being actually breeds more questions than it does fear. And it's a good kind of curiousity, the one that leads most often to "Why am I here? What is my greater purpose?" or "What is this place really like?"; the sort of-all encompassing, yet sincerely asked questions we put to ourselves that are the simplest bases behind our drives not only to improve but our desire to understand the world around us. I really *don't* know if all that is either statistically or actually true, but I can say I've got a good, solid feeling of truth to behind it. So, yeah. :>) On that note, I go forth to abate some more of the directionless feeling I've had all afternoon, and answer the challenge to a friendly game of Worms World Party that has just been thrown down. I love community fun. YOU GOIN' DOWN!!!!!!

Bienvenidos.

Ozymandias meets all the old-newcomers with a smile, hearty handshake or fierce hug for whoever wants them. At minimum, all and sundry are greeted with a booming, jovial "Welcome Back!"

Hours later... Mystery, Inc. has the case well in hand. Freddy has split up the gang. Again. He and Daphne are nowhere to be found. Velma has run off with Johnny Bravo, again. Scooby, Shaggy, Scooby Dumb and Scrappy have volunteered to investigate the kitchen. Again. Vincent Van Ghoul and Miroku sit on Vincent's magic carpet watching the proceedings, looking forlorn. Flim Flam, inexplicably, is duct taped to Excel Excel's javelin. "AAAAAAAA! NOOOOOOOOOOO!" "EXCEL JAVELIN ATTACK...AWAYYY!!!!" Vincent Van Ghoul at least, feels a little better. (OOC: Another vote for Peepi. The coyote knows something, I swear it!!!!)

Meanwhile... In the announcers' booth Miroku's head suddenly appears next to Daffy Duck's. "Hey! Wath goin-!" Miroku smiles slyly. "Duck season." Elmer Fudd and Lord Ilpalazzo immediately level shotguns at Daffy's head. "Mother!" BLAM! Daffy's head smokes quietly. Ilpalazzo looks apologetic. "Sorry, Daffy. Old habits, you know." Hopping away down the bleachers, Miroku grins to himself. The rabbit was right. That was fun. He sighs heavily as he makes the final leap, bringing him to the arena floor. But this isn't about how I feel, I know. It's about avenging the deaths of demon and human alike and catching their killer. But where to begin? All of this madness is enjoyable, but such chaos does not lend itself to a thorough investigation. The young man's reverie is suddenly broken as he lays eyes on a green van parked out in the front lot. Does the side of that car read 'Mystery...Inc.'? Maybe the owners of the vehicle can help me. I must find them!

*scampers off to the game thread* Oh me oh my, how late it's getting! Heh...

A lone figure hops away down the hall, grinning to himself and shedding his rabbit suit. A long overdue congrats, Jam! You can soliloquize with the best of them.

OOOooo. Shivers down my spine! I like it! Don't understand it yet, but I like it. Unless I have really missed my guess (random? Any comment on the following?) I'd disagree with you, Wyv. I'd say enhancing the narrator's background further would take away from the story, because what the presentation tells me is that who he is is fairly unimportant, the meaning of his dream and what he does ("Sometimes it isn’t easy being the one picked too compensate for humanity preventing their own natural selection" -fascinating statement, that.) are the crux of the matter. A very, VERY engaging and deliciously eerie story. I just need to reread it some more to figure out what on earth is happening...

Sounds quite interesting, Traveler. I'll look forward to reading that story. Hopefully I'll have one or two of my own to share by then, and we can compare notes. Ganbare!

*runs around in circles, screaming*

A Value-sized welcome to da Buddha!

I feel your pain, mon frere. I was regretting picking somebody as straightlaced as Miroku for such a maximum weirdness game at first, but now I'm feeling better about it, as I've got a clue as to how to fit witty, relevant posts in. The recipie seems for 'straightlaced' characters such as ours seems to be: Look for the absurdity in the atmosphere of the setting and how it relates to anybody you please (hey, it's cartoons. Nothing's sacred in *this* land. ;>) ) Look for the absurdity in the logical interpersonal reactions that would result in such a supremely odd group (yes, even for cartoons!) as we've got. Once I understood that, life became happy again. I was rather proud of the Mary Jane addition, myself. For what it's worth, you already seem to be on this road. Had to giggle madly when I found out Johnny was after the Totally Spies!'s digits. :>) Excelsior!

Hey, I said alienS. As for IC, I've just been struggling with the muse myself to put up good stuff, so I've admittedly been a bit distracted from balancing quality posting with completely relevant posting. My bad. No disrespect meant. I do have to add my kudos to ye on playing a good Marvin, especially for someone who apparently knew so little about 'im.

(OOC: In all other games, I don't trust Eyremon as far as he can throw me [you're beautiful, E! \;>)], but in this case...erm...I'll go with the insider tip. *Is* Tanny up to something? Let's find out! A vote for Peepi.)

As Chichiri and Spider-Man finish their conversation, Miroku discreetly approaches in full view of both. Clasping his hands briefly in front of him and making a small bow to Spider-Man, he greets them. "Hello, friends. Please pardon my intrusion, but I wish to speak to you" he says, indicating Spider-Man. Setting his staff firmly before him, Miroku continues, someberly, "Sir, I assure you I meant no harm to you or the lady. I was unaware of your custom regarding a gold ring being a sign of marriage." Pausing for effect, he looks at Spider-Man's hand pointedly. "In my further defense, you do make it a challenge to realize that particular woman is yours." Upon seeing Spidey's brows begin to furrow, he laughs lightly and smiles reassuringly. "No fear, my agile friend. After all this, I humbly consider myself educated." He laughed nervously, waving a hand mock-dismissively at Spidey. "Besides! I've seen you in action. I come from a peaceful order. Add one to two, and that equals the healthy dislike I have for getting my bones broken." Glancing over Chichiri's shoulder, the monk's eyes widen. "What...is the skunk doing to that Ninja?"

Dear Nave, Seriously, you do a great Spidey! And now, a moment of silence for the fallen. *cricket chirps* I said SILENCE! "Sorry!" Fine. Just see that it doesn't happen again. Alas, our poor aliens! You shall be missed!

(OOC: Tanny, Dear Gal...that MTYF's been lynched 'swhat he meant. ) Miroku stands, finishing a prayer at the small grave he has made for the insane, lighthearted little steel demon. I once knew fiends such as who did this. The ones who called themselves the Thunder Brothers. His earnest face darkens as he frowns, making his way back to the arena. Beings of awesome power who were nothing more than mere schoolhouse bullies. Inu-Yasha defeated them...now, I must test my strength against this unseen foe. I pray I am equal to the task. The death of an innocnet must not go unpuni... As he nears the stadium, he sees a voluptous young redhead helping load the harrowed, still gesticulating form of Daily Bugle Editor J. Jonah Jameson into an ambulance in the ugly aftermath of his bout with Yosemite Sam in the 100-meter bellow. Immediately, Miroku changes course from the path to the enterance to her side. Taking a knee before her as her gently clasps her hand inbetween his own, he tells her with heartfelt sincerity, "I want you to bear my children." Mary Jane Watson is somewhat taken aback. Meanwhile... Inside, at that exact same moment, Spider-Man's spider sense knocks him clean off the light fixture he was perched on.

*signs on dotted line* Friday and Saturday, from approximately 8AM -12:30PM and Sunday from 8PM-whenever are usually good. :>)

Chichiri grins over at him broadly, Optimus studiously pores over the rules for turning undead, Pepe continues to glare in consternation, and G.I.R. appears to have made an exquisitely ornate origami rendition of the Taj Mahal out of the Monster Manual and a small child as Miroku hangs his head and begins to sweat in anxiety. What have I gotten myself into? Sigh. Gathering his composure, Miroku puts on his most winning smile and announces to his group, "Thanks to Optimus and G.I.R.'s kind aid in translation*, I think we're ready to begin! It says here that a good way to start off is to go around the table and have everyone describe their characters. So who would like to begin?", finishes the young monk with a calm authority he does not feel. Grandfather, give me wisdom! Dave sneaks a glance over at the other table and smirks in triumph as he sees Miroku holding the book upside-down...still. "GIR, I think his mother wants him back now...GIR!! No!! We don't do that to women!!!!!" *Translation of the English text to Japanese, that is. Yes, GIR helped. Tremble...

Like Emus.