Snypiuer

Realizing that the situation was changing and changing fast, a dark figure that was observing from the shadows flicks his hand and right before Degorram smashed open the door, the lock spells vanished from the exits. "Can't have anyone hurt trying to escape the chaos," he thought to himself as he made a tear in reality and slipped away. On a dark plane of existence, the dark figure brooded and absent mindedly talked out loud to 3 smaller individuals (who stayed quiet), as he recalculated his plans. "Don't see how Wyv knew the kid was a phony, I'm just glad I was able to make it look like he was a paparazzi and Mage Noir was a reporter. Man is he going to be upset! Bad enough he had no idea the kid and photo weren't real, making him act like a reporter may have been a bit too much. I'll tell him it was necessary and give him a big bonus. That ought to keep him from trying to kill me. He's an asset, hate to have to liquidate him." Turning to the 3 smaller figures, he says "Well guys, any idea on how to further discredit Wyvern or tarnish his image - if at all possible?"

As the meteor storm rained down upon the forest, lightning strikes began to arc through the air. While a few struck home, the Keep's magical defenses deflected most of them - causing them to spider web across the sky. Among the roar of falling meteors and the crackling of electricity, another sound was heard: The deep muffled sounds of leather flapping against the wind. As if out of no where, nine Red Dragons circled the Keep - probing it's defenses. They then began razing the surrounding country side with gouts of flames, several landed to level buildings and tear up bridges and roads leading to and from the Keep. With all the confusion and havoc, it went unnoticed that they left access from the south open. When this was finally discovered, small groups of soldiers were seen setting up defensive positions around the southern bridges and surrounding buildings (a deeper sense of tension and uneasiness came over those who came to the Keep from the lost world of Terra, when it became clear to them that "Hero's" were among these small groups of soldiers). The purpose of these defensive positions became obvious when the massing army on the southern horizon was spotted. At this point, some who sought the source of these events started to realize, may be it didn't matter. Others who sought the source, redoubled their efforts in a desperate race against time. Most inhabitants of the Keep just readied for war. To them, it was clear: They were under siege.

When it seemed the tension could grow no more, as if it were a balloon stretched to its' very limit and about to burst, it happened. The noise like a freight train falling from the sky, filled the air. Everyone stopped what they were doing and ran to windows and balconies to see fire and rocks fall out of the sky, destroying the forest just east of the Keep. While most stood in awe and terror, those who came to the Keep from the lost world of Terra, shuddered at the sight - a meteor storm. Power of that magnitude had not survived the journey from that blasted and dead world. How? Who? These were two of the thoughts on the minds of those who crossed so long ago. Was it some one already here, who had some how regained enough power to rise to the might once wielded by Archmages? Or, had some one, some how, not only manage to claw their way back from Hell, but to do so with full power? When was the last time that had happened? Who was the last one with the strength of will to do so? What did this mean? Worse yet, what could be done?

Mage Noir voice over: Some how things seemed to get worse from there, like an old Studebaker without brakes tearing down dead man's hill. It's a wild ride, but something tells you it isn't going to end well. It could have been the booze or maybe the fact that the flatfoots parents were most likely blood relatives, but them trying to catch Wyvern was like watching the Keystone Cops on peyote - led by Barney Fife. Why Wyvern was even attempting to get away from them was a mystery, he would have been better off just standing still. An unknown informant had tip me off that the exits would be wizard locked and from the looks of it, they were. So far all his tips had paid off, that worried me. For some reason, I felt like a mouse in a maze that had every correct path lined with the sent of cheese. I had to wonder what was at the other end. But I was getting a sack full of geld for my troubles and I figured not every mouse gets caught. Some times he gets the cheese and gets away. Tim considered wading into the mayhem 'till I mentioned that there was only one way out and it was through us. So, we sat back and waited. . . .

Dear Pen Diary, Is it normal for a cat to enjoy repeated kicks to the head? Well, kind of got lazy last few days with the evil and stuff. Will endeavor to refocus my attention on that. Believe the reality dust bunnies may have slipped some Zanax(sp?) into my hot chocolate (evil enjoys hot chocolate - little known fact.), causing me to let things sit for a while. Also could have been little vacation I took last weekend. Did you know the streets of Juarez, Mexico are covered with Mexican military? That only used to happen during riots. Downtown is NOTHING like it used to be. Hardly any tourists. I didn't think it could get any more 'third world' - but it did. Yet, for some reason, I still fit in. Kind of disconcerting. Oh well, back to the evil and stuff. . . where IS Wyvern!?

Another noticed is placed upon the wall: Ozymandias is NOT public property. THEREFORE, defacing Ozymandias is NOT PUNISHABLE by either a fine and/or incarceration.

Agitation, frayed nerves, tension. . . all began to be too much of a strain. Fights broke out amongst friends. Lovers and families yelled at each other. Those alone, threw and broke things. Books and scrolls were torn in frustration. Demons and angels roamed free and did battle as those whom summoned them in an effort to find the source of the inner darkness that was spreading, made mistakes in their binding spells. It was a while before anyone noticed that on a bright, cloudless day. . . the sky began to darken and a low thrumming hum was felt, more then heard, throughout the Keep.

Voice over in Mage Noir's voice as the four make their way to the Conservatory: We followed the doorman into the Keep, our footsteps tracing a maze of paths that could only have been mapped out in the mind of an over excited, hyper-active 9-year old on acid. That's what you run into when you allow the artistic and power mad to create their own place to live. Still, I found it interesting. A warren of buildings and alleyways that held intrigue and wonder at every turn. While the little snot sack that stumbled beside me seemed to be both excited and apprehensive all at once, Tim had to stoop down almost double more then a few times to get past low over hangs and through doorways - I can only guess at the picture of the Keep sketched in his mind and didn't envy him one bit the backache (not to mention the headache from the times he didn't duck quite quick enough) he was going to have in the morning. We came to a door and as the smoke from my cigarette drifted in front of me like a gossamer faerie ballerina, the doorman said, "Wyvern is the one that looks like that (pointing at the little snot machine), only bigger and not as suave." He opened the door and we found ourselves staring into a ballroom filled with a plethora of beings from the exotic to mundane. My grey matter did a round house kick to the inside of my brain case as a feline creature with a body that would make a blind man weep with joy walked by. I didn't even notice Tim's catatonic state of euphoria as another vision of femininity walked by. I still have no idea how I was able to pull my Wizard PPK snub nosed wand and fire off a veil spell to protect both of us. Tim was wiping drool from his chin and thanked me as the intoxicating visions of beauty began to fade away. Another quick true form spell from my snub nose cleared the room of all concealments and disguises, both magical and natural. A group of flat foots drinking at the bar were astonished to find that the Captain they were drinking with was actually a shape-shifter that was a copy of the girl that walked by me right after the 'kitty cat' did. As the flatfoots drunkenly reached for thug-thumpers and night-sticks, the shape-shifter moved away from them with experienced ease. Three shackled troglyodytes in the corner desperately tried to unshackle themselves and chaos began to skitter throughout the ballroom as the 'law enforcement' officers began to lurch about haphazardly, all the while yelling at each other, "Get that lizard before he escapes!" A larger version of the little diaper bundle was in a far corner of the room. I looked at Tim and he looked at me as we both said, "Wyvern!" I was feeling like things were looking up. . .

Dear Pen Diary, Back from out of town trip. Had a good time. Spent money I don't have. Need to cause problems to make myself feel better. Stomped on some dust bunnies. Feel a little better. Where's Wyvern?

A notice is placed upon the wall: Defacing public property is punishable by a FINE and/or INCARCERATION Underneath is scrawled: Down with AUTHORITY And: ANARCHY against the ESTABLISHMENT

As morning began to blossom into day: soothsayers and diviners cast lots, read cards and stared deeply into crystal balls; scribes, historians, elders of academe and the generally bookish searched tomes, scrolls and ancient tablets; practitioners of the arts from dark to light used their esoteric might, while followers of both deities and demons prayed for enlightenment - all in a futile attempt to reveal the source of the growing tension within the Keep. Few individuals moved about and those that did, did so out of necessity - as quickly as possible, hands in pockets and with head down. It was as if all those whom dwelled within the walls of the Keep had made an unspoken agreement to to stay within the increasingly dwindling comfort of their own rooms. Within this atmosphere of growing dread, individual doubts and fears began to rise. Each citizen of the Keep began to suspect that the growing doom was specifically meant for them. They searched their memories for every slight given and every wrong they may have done (regardless of how small) that had cause for retribution. They looked back and recalled every enemy long forgotten. A few began to wonder of fallen enemies and whether or not they truly were gone. And the tension grew.

As Grimmael turns to lead Tim into the Keep, he hears an attention getting cough come from what he can only believe (considering the alternative) is the skull on Tim's buckle. With a quizzical look, he says, "That was the buckle. . .wasn't it?" A voice coming from a location slightly lower and (to Grimmaels great relief) further behind Tim, responded, "No." Tim steps aside, "Sorry, forgot to introduce my. . .associate." A dark elf stands behind Tim, smoking a cigarette and wearing a trench coat and a Fedora pulled down at an angle over one eye. He says in a rough voice, battered by countless cigarettes and booze, "Names Noir. . .Mage Noir, but you can call me Sam." He hands Grimmael his card: Mage Noir Private Wand "I guess we got lucky Tim. Looks like we're after the same guy. I'm a mage for hire, a private wand. I happen to be looking for a 'Wyvern' in regards to a little matter." He shows Grimmael a picture of Wyvern - at a strip club. It's a much younger Wyvern, but there is no mistake that it's Wyvern. "Now, there are several 'little matters' I need to see him about, but this is the one I was specifically hired to take care of at this point in time." He hands over another picture. It's of a girl recognizable as one of the strippers from the previous picture. . .holding a baby that bears an UNCANNY resemblance to Wyvern. Grimmael is pulled away from staring at the picture by a small voice to his left and close to the ground, "Are you my daddy?" comes from a chubby, dirty diaper wearing, mucus excreting miniature version of Wyvern. Tim asks Sam, "Mind if I get my business with him over first?" "Sure. We got time, and now that we know his whereabouts, there will be a lot of others interested in that knowledge." Sam adds with a small smile, "Tim, we got all the time we need." Grimmael can only shake his head as he leads the trio into the Keep.

Dear Pen Diary, Prison riots and VERY strong winds - life in a small West Texas town. One more recent then the other. But, both have died down and once again able to communicate with outside world. For a while, believed it was a sign that I should step away from the evil path I have chosen - or at the very least, not focus it at Wyvern. Cuddles, the zombie penguin that crouches in the corner of my room, convinced me otherwise.

Snypiuer finds a dusty, long forgotten tome and opens it. "I remember this." Dear Pen Diary, Long time no write. Feeling ever so much better. Unsure if that is a good thing. For some reason, I've gotten it into my head to be bad. For some even more unknown reason, I've chosen Wyvern as a focus for this badness. No one knows anything, so far. It seems the Muse that I have found is evil. . . yet I believe there is a purpose and have chosen to follow where she leads. The reality dust bunnies huddle in a tight bundle, in the far corner 'neath my bed - shivering in fear, fore they know and that knowledge terrifies them. Will endeavor to update regularly!

Anonymous messages begin to appear scribbled throughout the Keep: The end is near. and: Look for the 9

Snypiuer LOOOVVEES Despair Inc.!!!!! Never thought he should bring it up because an individual who stands out from the crowd is a target. Would seek to participate but knows his place as nothing more then a cog in the machine. A mundane, replaceable cog.

It was a clear morning that dawned on the Keep. It's denizens rubbed their eyes and yawned as they awoke from peaceful sleep. No longer were there nightmares or screams in the night as one would awake, reaching in desperation for the comfort of a loved one. Injuries were healed and conversations were about the weather or about how well a relative was doing. The Keep and those who resided within it's walls were at peace, safe in the knowledge that all was well. Or so they believed. As this clear new day arrived and the Keep awakened, there was a faint tension everyone felt as they performed their morning rituals of washing up and readying themselves. A silence fell over the breakfast table as no one was quite able to express the growing apprehension in the air. A nagging began to creep into the collective psyche of the Keep. And not a few of it's members began to wonder why.

No one notices Snypiuer as he slowly walks around the perimeter of the party, idly checking windows and doors. Therefore, no one notices that he is quietly, discreetly, placing magical locks on each and every exit. As if to insure no one could escape. After he completes his circuit of the room, he looks around and with a slight nod and a small satisfied smile, he leaves. Moments later, as if on cue, a large group of law enforcement officials burst in the front door. "NOBODY MOVE! We're looking for one Wyvern Almost A Dragon, AKA Wyvie, AKA Wyv, AKA. . . . Boss - in connection to a stolen vehicle black market chop shop and the use of fraudulent Vehicle Ownership Transaction (V.O.T.) papers. Specifically a bait car recently recovered with V.O.T papers signed by an S. S. Squirrel." A quick flash of memory shoots through Wyvern's brain: Looking at the papers Snypiuer signed, he saw an S and scribbling, in his haste, he just took for granted it said Snypiuer. At that moment, three troglyodytes, wearing auto shop overalls, are brought in in shackles. As Wyvern quickly pulls off his 'Hi!, My Name is Wyvern' tag and slowly inches closer to the nearest exit, all three raise their manacled claws, point at Wyvern and say, "That's him!"

Snypiuer thinks to himself, "Wow, Wyvern must be over all of the trouble we've had in the past. I ALMOST feel bad about what will be happening in the near future." Everyone in the entire Keep looks around as menacing music is heard, "dum dum DUMMM!!!" Snypiuer quickly signs the papers, drops his keys in the box and wanders away before any questions can be asked.

Don't have anything myself, but give a listen to Colin Hay's "Waiting for My Real Life to Begin". It might inspire you.

A disheveled individual shambles in, "Is this the Lurkers Anonymuse meeting?" Looking around, he sees Wyvern. Pulling out a small piece of paper, he heads towards him thinking, "He must be the guy who validates my parking."

Dear Pen Diary: Been a while since last update. Things were looking great, reality dust bunnies were no where to be found. Little did I know, they merely lay in wait. Their trap was diabolical in its' simplicity. After such a sustained run of bad luck and set backs, I was given a glimmer of hope for a reversal of fortune. I was given news that I was showing physical improvement and it would be recommended that I could once again resume working. I was foolish for falling for it. The very day I received this good news, I fell ill. Believing it to be nothing more then a VERY bad stomach virus, I ignored it and set about putting my life back in order. Reality dust bunnies are mean, vile little creatures. About a week later, found myself in emergency room - extremely dehydrated, white blood count over 34 (told normal is about from severe infection and a gangrenous gall bladder. The reality dust bunnies had attacked with extreme prejudice, violently beating me to a bloody pulp and (once again) leaving me for dead. I HATE reality dust bunnies. All that said, I survived. My other medical problem (Muscular Dystrophy) is prolonging my recovery and the loss of muscle mass, from such a long recovery, will take a while for me to regain (some I can't, due to MD). So, THAT means: Will have to go through entire process of getting re-evaluated after recovering - which MAY take some time (the process itself, since it's all done through charities). Just hope I can gain back enough strength. Hence, no work for a while longer. Have I mentioned that I HATE reality dust bunnies? Oh well, they took their shot and FAILED! So, 'till their next attempt, they can BITE ME!

If you have gall stones, your gall bladder can: 1. Become infected. 2. Swell to over three times its normal size. 3. Gangrene can set in. 4. Die, your gall bladder can die. All this leads to excruciating pain. If ALL this happens and you IGNORE it for over a week (like one IDIOT, who shall remain nameless), you ALSO can die. OR, at the very least, WISH you did. Having Muscular Dystrophy will prolong recovery and no insurance or employment just makes EVERYTHING so much more interesting. DO NOT ask how I know this, just accept it as fact!

Snypiuer is NOT a critic or good movie reviewer. But, he knows what he likes when he sees it. That being said: Lucky to get to see advanced showing of Iron Man. Being a biased Marvel fanboy aside, liked it. Kind of slow towards end, but did advance story line. Robert Downey Jr. made a good Tony Stark and the story, itself, stayed relatively true to the Marvel mythos (aside from the whole 'origin' which was changed to be more contemporary). Jon Favreau was an EXCELLENT choice to direct. All in all, a very good movie. Would not surprise me if it becomes Marvels highest grossing.

Static fills the screen: V1: Did you feed it? V2: Yeah. But, I think we shouldn't anymore. V1: Boss said feed it. V2: Yeah, but have you seen how FAT it is now? V1: You're one to tal. . . HOLY JEE!!! V3: meow? V1: How does it move?! V2: Well, it leans to one side and pushes, then leans to the other side, you get the picture. V3: meow? V2: At least we don't have to worry about hairballs anymore. V1: What? V2: Too fat to lick itself. V1: Oh. V3: meow? V2: Kind of looks like that kid that ate that gum, last time the boss gave a tour of the factory. V1: How many times do you have to be told, 'DO NOT TALK ABOUT THE FACTORY'?!? V3: meow? V2: I just. . . V1: DO NOT TALK ABOUT THE FACTORY! V3: meow? V2: O.K.! V3: meow? V2: You sure this is 'THE' one? V1: Boss says it is. V2: Really? Think the lizard knows? V3: meow? V1: Wouldn't be surprised if he was behind it. Always, "What would I do without her? What if she leaves?" V3: meow? V2: I can just see him plastered and crying into a chalice of Ol' Peculiar! V1: Yeah! By the way, he send over the new transcript? V3: meow? V2: Yeah, still playing the 'Plausible Deniability' angle. Says that's why he can't pay us. V3: meow? V1: EXCUSE ME!? V2: Boss says he's got it covered. V1: Oh. Well, that's O.K. WHOW! Time to start! Turn it on. V2: O.K. V3: meow? V1: GET THAT OUT OF HERE! Two rather large squirrels appear on screen. The fatter one seems to be kicking something off screen. V3: MEEOOWWW! S1: Hello everyone! S2: Hi! S1: Due to injuries and what I must say is out right fear. . . S2: FEAR! S1 looks at S2, S2 gives a "What!?" look at S1. S1: Injuries and fear has limited The Grim Squeaker Punt, Pass and Kick Games™ to only a few contestants. S2: That's right. But, word is Snypiuer has recovered from his injuries and will make another attempt. S1: We eagerly await his next appearance and hope his success will encourage others to overcome their fear. . . S2: FEAR!! Once again, S1 looks at S2 and S2 gives a "What!?" look at S1. S1: OVERCOME their fear and make their own attempt. S2: Yeah. Get out their and show that rat what's what! S1 shoves S2 off camera. S2: HEYYY!!! S1: What he means is, The Grim Squeaker (as a WILLING participant) looks foreward to as many contestants joining in the fun as possible. V2: KICK THAT RATS A. . . S1 throws his microphone off stage. V2: OOWWW!!!! S1: SHUT UP! S1 turns back to camera. S1: We now return you to Wyvern. Static fills the screen: V1: WHAT IS YOUR MALFUNCTION!? V2: HE BIT ME!!! V1: GET OVER IT! V2: FINE! V1: FINE! Sheesh! V3: meow? V2: What exactly IS a minion? V3: meow? V1: Just feed it! V2: Ooo.Kaayy. . . . V3: meow?