Patrick

Yui, we changed things in The Mighty Tan Pen. Xaious and anyone else encountering a skin in which you can't get back try pressing back and rechanging the skin to something which works, if that fails, post in this thread and we'll change it back for you. Edit: I have just turned off those skins which severely don't work. At the moment we're working on correcting problems with the Tan skin.

So that Gwai and me don't get lots of repetitive PMs about icons or colours not working, could you post any icons or colours you find which aren't working in this thread? It would also be helpful if you can note where you found the icon or colour which isn't working, a link to the dead/blue icon is even more helpful. We're mostly working on the tan skin now, but later might update the other skins also.

After Appy's quiz against Vene is finished there shall be three winners and three losers. For easier organisation of the winning branch, there shall be a quiz between the three losers (one quiz with three participants), the winner of which shall join the three previous winners and then there'll be a classic elimination type of play between the four battling it out for victory. In the three participant quiz each participant will choose a topic for three questions, and I'll add a question of my choice.

I'm in. Character to come later.

Congratulations to all three of you! Promotions well deserved!

I really liked these two lines of the poem. As for Ayshela, these two lines invoked the image of fleeing from something in one's life but then finally mustering the courage to face one's fears. As someone who can be much too shy in certain situations, I can totally relate to this image.

Thank you everyone! *hugs all around*

Last night I went to see Epica (www.epica.nl) Brief band info: Epica is a dutch band, who play gothic metal. Their guitarist was previously a member (and founder) of After Forever, and he performs the grunting vocals in Epica's songs, and is also the main songwriter. Epica consists of two guitarists (one of whom sings) a bassist, drummer, keyboardist and female singer. The opening act of the concert was a French group called The Old Dead Tree. I was very surprised that the singer had only a very faint accent in English (which if you've heard French people speaking English before is pretty surprising). They played a style, which I would most easily compare to Opeth (who are categorized on Wikipedia as progressive death metal). They weren't brilliant, but the show they put on wasn't bad at all, and served as a great warm up for the main act. This was my first time seeing Epica, I had previously not even seen pictures of them, and let me tell you that the singer looks gorgeous. To top that off she has a really good stage presence, interacting very well with both the public and the other band members. She is also a very good singer, and I think that the band alltogether sounded even better live than on the studio album I have from them. They played a close to two hour long set, taking material from both of their albums (only one of which I had listened to prior to the concert). All in all it was a concert I enjoyed very much, and would recommend the band to anyone into the style, and able to catch them during their current tour, because they really are very good live.

"Father, Johann has still not returned." There were tears at the edges of Sienna's eyes. She knew very well what her brother's sudden unexplained absence meant, but her heart did not want to admit it yet. Her aged father, his long white beard reaching his chest did not reply. He seemed almost apathic at receiving this news. Johann had been his only son, and he did not want to contemplate his possible death, neither as a father, nor the ruler of House Wererathe. "I want to see his body," he finally announced after several minutes. "Use any means necessary," he added for the aides, several of whom hurried off. "Dear daughter of mine, I hope that my feelings are wrong this time." However, half an hour later they were confirmed. "Mylord, we have prepared the summoning circle and are ready to commence," an aide announced. Duke Wererathe stood up, and heavily leaning on his daughter's shoulder with one hand, and his stick with the other wobbled over to the summoning room. The pentagram was laid out on the floor, surrounded by candles. Several experienced warriors were standing idly next to the walls in case something went wrong. Sienna sincerely hoped that the summoning would not work. If that were the case, it would mean that Johann was still among the living, and finding him was only a question of time. Chants rose in the chamber as the summoning was begun. An aide flung powders with magical properties inside the pentagram at the right moments and, unfortunately for House Wererathe, his efforts were successful. A ghostly, almost transparent shape of Johann appeared inside the circle, only loosely bound to the world. Sienna fell to her knees, breaking down in tears. Duke Wererathe kept his calm for the moment. The time for mourning would come later. He stared intently at the lifeless eyes of his own son looking at him, and his own eyes asked the question of what had happened. The ethereal shape replied, in an almost inaudible voice, which made his father silence everyone in the room. "I'm sorry father...I was not strong enough, not prepared for what had happened...avenge those who tricked me, so that my spirit can find rest." Duke Wererathe inquired about who had done it, but Johann knew not. Slowly starting to fade, he fulfilled his father's wish and told him where's his body could be found before finally disappearing. Duke Wererathe put a hand to where his son's ghostly hand had been, and almost felt his touch. The pain was almost unbearable, but he knew that he could not show his followers how much he grieved. He motioned an aide to follow him. Outside of his quarters he gave orders for the body to be retrieved and that he was not to be disturbed in the coming hours, not even by his own daughter. He could finally release his tears, the pent up emotions of sorrow. For long he only cried, cursing the powers that be for tearing his son from him. Once his grief was spent, and no more tears could come, Duke Wererathe wrote a letter. A letter about a purpose to which he would dedicate the remainder of his existence. Young he was and still had many years ahead of him, yet suddenly was he taken from among us, my son: Johann of Wererathe. House Wererathe has fallen into grief as the consequences of this atrocious act sink in. Yet even in grief there is purpose, and my House shall not rest until that purpose is fulfilled. We shall hunt down and find those, who did this to my son. If your house had nothing to do with this ghastly deed, then you have nothing to fear from House Wererathe, but if our investigations find that you are implicated, then may justice be swift. Duke Edmond, of House Wererathe The ink barely even dry on the sheet of parchment, the Duke called in an aide. "Have this letter copied and sent to every Major and Minor house!" he ordered. The aid took the letter, but did not yet leave. The Duke asked with his eyes why he was not doing his bidding. "Your son's body has been recovered. It has been laid down in the Great Hall half an hour ago, but you asked us not to disturb you." With a gesture he dismissed the aid, and dreading what he would see, slowly walked to the Great Hall of House Wererathe. Johann's brown hair was matted with dried blood, and there was no life in his blue eyes, which had stayed open even in death, betraying the pain and horror that he must have felt in death. "We shall have a private burial," the Duke announced.

Oh desks, you wonderful objects Hiding your insides with what your surface reflects Quills, paper, various accessories all live in you Ever and ever the contents renew. Next topic: rhymes

(took the spraypaint topic in the sense of graffiti-ing) Show the world that you were there It is one thing that you dare. Some call it vandalism, a world apart But to you it is simply: art. Topic: grammar-nazi (or grammar-naziness)

I'm not sure, but I guess that this is the OOC for your QQ. If not just tell me and I'll move this. Christopher was first used in Sweetcherrie's QQ. His description:

Christopher Malcolm, it seemed, was the first to knock on Richard's door. His camera was hanging around his neck, and his notepads and pens were tightly packed in the backpack on his back. "Hello there, I'm Christopher. I'd be interested in joining this voyage of your's so as to document a real treasure hunt!" he said, putting his bag down next to the wall.

The story starts to get more and more interesting. I thought that a bit more descriptions could have been given as to the motives of the Bestiasilva for wanting to kill the baby dragon, and also to me the arrival of the flashback/memory scene was a bit sudden. I noticed another minor typo: Eagerly awaiting the next chapter.

As Wyvern had already said, this is a quite interesting start to your story. I particularly liked the part when the new world she found herself in was compared to the library, with rows of books or trees. Your profile did not state how you liked your feedback, but at the end of the post you did ask for some, so I hope you don't mind if I offer a few corrections. I noticed a few typos, possibly spelling mistakes. To me it also felt as though the part where she travelled between where she had arrived in this world and the part where she arrived in the city could have taken a bit longer, with more descriptions. But apart from that I found the story to be quite interesting so far. *goes off to read chapter two*

Trust a dragon to see through magic, Janek thought to himself sitting next to his crystal ball in the highest room of his wizard's tower. He had counted on this possibility, but still it complicated things quite a lot. It seemed that Frktl had retained quite a few of his powers, even while being trapped in such a fragile form as that of the old woman. How every single second of living in such a useless body must annoy him! Watching through the eyes of the Magistrate and controlling his movements, Janek had noticed the moment of recognition in the yellow, dragon-like eyes of Melba Somone. Frktl-in-Melba knew that the person sitting on the other side of the table was not the magister. It was just the magister's body, controlled by the one person Frktl-in-Melba loathed more than he loathed the pitysome body he was trapped in. Janek tapped his skeletal fingers on the surface of the crystal ball. It took only a part of his concentration to control the Magistrate's body, with the rest he could still take care of what was going on around him. The ghouls on the lower levels of his tower had once again broken loose and he ordered his apprentice, a recent lich to take care of the disturbance. Trapping Frktl in the schoolteacher had been no easy spell, but so far it had proven a very interesting experiment. Janek had never expected the human body to take on draconic caracteristics, but in recent days he had seen the beginnings of a tail and scales appearing along the chest of the body, which had once housed the spirit of Melba. That said spirit was sitting in a magically sealed jar next to the crystal ball. There was actually no need for Janek to keep it in order to continue this experiment, but he fancied trying the inverse experiment of putting the human spirit into the draconic body, which at that precise moment was a lifeless husk in the lowest underground level of his tower. Janek's attention was once again captured by the crystal ball, which represented what the Magistrate's eyes were seeing. The smoke coming from the Melba body's nostrils was intensifying, the inner furnace increasing in power. Frktl-within was most probably building up a reservoir of anger to unleash if the need arose. The time of observation was over. The experiment needed to be put back on the right track. The Magistrate spoke, but his voice was not that which the Melba-body remembered. Instead it was Frktl within who remembered that voice. It belonged to the accursed lich who had torn his body and spirit apart two weeks ago. Frktl had been foolish to go near that wizard's tower, he knew, but as a young and foolish dragon, he could not resist the call of the vast riches the circular walls contained. "It seems that the witnesses shall not come, Miss Somone." After all, formalities had to be considered, and there were other watcher's than Janek. Several of the wizards in the city were suspecting that something unnatural had happened to Melba. Janek could feel their scrying glances directed towards the Magistrate's Office. To protect his experiment, Janek had had to take care of the troublesome witnesses himself. He knew that even if the Melba body developed the ability to breathe fire, Frktl would not have much chance of evading capture if found guilty. "Am I free to go then?" Melba asked in that sweet voice of hers. Dragons had always been good at imitating other's voices and Frktl knew that he had to hide in order to survive. "Most certainly, Miss Somone. The hearing scheduled for the disappearance of the seven cats shall happen sometime in the next few days." The witnesses for that case were still alive, and Janek had had trouble tracking one of them down. Frktl-in-Melba stood up and made a step towards the door. The door flew open before he could reach it, an aide to the Magistrate rushing in. "Sir! Sir! Two of the witnesses in the case have been found murdered!" While the deaths of two witnesses would not have been enough to convict him, Frktl did not know that and he panicked. The aide was enveloped in a burst of flame escaping from the human mouth. Janek could see that the lips of the Melba-body were themselves charred in the process. Frktl then turned and unleashed a fresh breath of fire at the Magistrate. Janek could have saved the man, but at that moment did not care anymore. At least a dozen eyes besides his own had seen the events unfold in the Magistrate's office, surveying through crystal balls of their own. Frktl-in-Melba was doomed. Janek doubted that the sould could be seperated from the body anymore. Most likely in the coming minutes, Frktl-in-Melba would meet a very unpleasant end by the spells of the wizards, Janek could sense were already preparing their teleportation spells. Janek watched the scene unfold in his crystal ball. The end was swift, yet brutal. Three of the wizards themselves were consumed in the hellish fire emanating from Melba's body, before they overcame Frktl, reducing the body he had been inhabiting to a small pile of ash. Pity that the experiment had to end so soon, Janek thought to himself as he covered up the crystal ball. At least he still had the Melba-spirit and the dragon-body. That experiment would be quite interesting also.

I really liked this story. Nice build-up to the end, and the ending got me thinking. Good luck on the contest!

"Can you see that shimmering in the distance?" Olaf asked pointing at the northern lights illuminating the distant night sky. "Legends say that the cosmic particles which create that shimmering are the manifestations of the spirits of those who have already departed." I remembered having the shivers the first time I had been told that story by my father, long years ago. I was shocked out of my daydreaming by the croaking of a toad nearby. My skin shivered as I slowly put down my fright, reminding myself that there was nothing to fear from frogs or toads. postcard firerose silence phantom

Now that I'm dead, but still have inspiration to do another post I have a few questions. Are funerals held for the dead in this setting. If yes, would Johann's house have skilled enough shadow masters, who could retrieve his body (or what is left of it)?

I would write an IC post, but with an exam coming up on Thursday I can't really now unfortunately. So it'll just have to be a simply Happy Birthday and I wish you many more to come! Oh heck, I just don't see myself doing any studying right now, so here goes. For once Patham wasn't late arriving at a birthday party! He arrived just as Gyrfalcon and Bravery tied up the banner. He flew in under it, careful not to bring it down with a careless flap of his wings. He circled the room twice before landing and assuming his human form. Through the magics which are shapeshifting, the small package, which he had in his shirt pocket was still there, despite him not even visibly wearing his shirt while in owl form. Patham placed his gift next to all the others. In the small box was a small wooden figurine, which Patham himself had carved, and despite the sloppy technique it bore just some resemblance to Gwaihir.

Happy Birthday both of you!

A figure moves silently, sliding from shadow to shadow, rarely seen, yet ever present. Johann listens in on conversations considered private, goes to rooms he is not authorised in. It is the way he has learnt to master the shadow. He uses it for spying on others and acquiring any knowledge which might be useful. He was not actually in the shadow world when doing this, instead sticking to his shadow form, which blended almost perfectly with the shadows. Rarely had he been spotted in the shadows, and even then it had been trained shadowmasters, mostly from his own house, who had spotted him. Those not from his house he had learned to avoid. The talk was mostly about the murders, with some talk about the new murder of the General, which Johann had not heard about previously. He tried thinking about those who could have profited from the death, but had to come to the conclusion that all of the houses, including his own, had everything to profit from the death. The elimination of a likely candidate only brought them advantages. The way the murder had occured left no clues as to the identity of the murderer or his allegiance, although there were houses, which only rarely used poison. Johann rematerialized in the shadows between two pillars in a corridor, and turned to walk back to his house's headquarters, still deep in thought.

All active ants are always anxiously awaiting any atheist-anarchist armadillos.

Patham rushed through the corridors of the Pen Keep, once again late, as was slowly becoming customary for him. He arrived not too discretely just as Wyvern handed over his gift. Not anticipating the horde of news rats following Wyvern Patham crashed into them, tripping on one of them who was trying to take a picture of the St. Bernard between Wyvern's legs. Patham crashed to the floor, his gift rolling out from his hands. The small package rolled exactly up to Tanny's feet. Bending down she lifted it up, and removed the circular object from the package around it. It was a miniature crystal globe with a miniature Mighty Pen Keep inside it. "It's supposed to represent the Mighty Pen Keep," Patham explained as he slowly stood up. "It even has miniature figures running around inside it," he added pointing out a small figure of Tanny listening to explanations given by a small figure of Patham next to a crystal ball, which contained... OOC: Happy Birthday Tanny! Sorry for being late!

Johann nodded towards the General. A good man in time of need, but his greatest strength was also his greatest weakness, and almost made Johann preexclude him from the now open race for the throne. The General was one of the best military tacticians he had ever met, but unfortunately he seemed to like having his orders coming from someone, and Johann was not sure what the absence of that someone would do to him. This unknown was why he still might hold ambitions for the throne. Johann turned back to the two he was standing next to. Ciroth was a powerfully built man, one who it seemed to Johann, could easily hold his own in physical combat. Cid was an enigma. Johann was never sure what emotions played under that mask of his. The events of the last few minutes had only surprised Johann, because he had not expected the assassination to happen so soon. He had guessed that after Merlin's departure the first regent would not last long. Democratic choice had never been the forte of the court. Much blood would still flow before the end. Johann spoke in his customarily low voice. Those who weren't used to it, had to strain their hearing to catch his words, but most already knew from reputation that Johann spoke quietly. He never wasted words either on unnecessary phrases, keeping to the bare minimum when publicly speaking. "Did you see the assassin?" he asked them. His voice was casual, almost conversational, but invited the two others to share their information with him. The unspoken promise of reciprocating this exchange of information was carried in the wake of his words.