The Tournament of Roses

[Merelas]

What is more beautiful than a Rose? Merelas asked himself. He wandered through the Verdant Gardens, containing nearly every specimen of flowering plant imaginable. And, though many were beautiful, most were seemingly insignificant next to the gorgeous, elegant roses that grew on the trellis near the wall of The Mighty Pen Keep.

 

The rose’s splendor outshines even the most beautiful competitor. In any color or variety, it exemplifies beauty.

 

The beautiful Red rose, being sent to one who’s affection you desire, and who already has your own. Yes, the Red rose was chosen to represent love for its loveliness. Such beauty can be found few other places, except in the recesses of a kind heart. One that is open to love may have beauty to rival the rose… but it cannot be seen as quickly.

 

Merelas continued along the wall, examining the different types and colors.

 

A canary… yellow as the sun as it rises. A rose I would send for sympathy… that someone’s grief may be comforted by the elegance and prettiness of it. It would seem to say that, though the times may be dark, beauty still exists in the world, and will continue to do so. There is no problem in this world that cannot be made better by roses.

 

White… Merelas puzzled for a moment. What would a white rose be sent for? What could it serve as? Red was for love, and yellow, sympathy, but white?

 

And then it came to him. A white rose, a token of thanks. Thanks for a gift that was given freely, whether it is tangible or otherwise. Indeed, friendship, as a non-tangible gift, could be rewarded by the white rose… a truly good, pure friendship should be rewarded with a rose that is beautiful in its simplicity… white is for gratefulness.

 

Pink? The shade makes me think of champagne, somehow… and champagne always means celebration. Indeed, the Pink rose should stand for congratulations. For, as the hue is that of Red and White combined, so celebration is that of love and thanks for a blessed event. The birth of a new son or daughter would be such a rose-worthy event. Love for the new life, and celebration that that life was created.

 

Beauty… so few people, as the saying goes, “Stop to smell the roses.” More beauty is needed in this world… but somehow, I doubt that planting more roses would entirely do the trick. So often, people dwell on sadness, and bring others into their despair. But what can we do to stop it?

 

Bring them beauty. All of these qualities—Love, sympathy, thanksgiving, and celebration are beautiful in their own respect. Merelas continued along the path near the wall, one that he had truly never followed before. Perhaps he was guilty of continuing along, obsessed with his own sadness to stop and revel in the beauty of this place before. And, somehow, he was absolutely certain that no one else had been down this path that still lived.

 

It continued for some ways, until the Pen Keep was nearly out of sight. There was a decline, then, and the path lead him underground, but the roses continued to grow. Along the walls of the underground passage he followed were the roses, growing in vines. Like a myriad of beauty, all four of the colors he had seen before grew along the walls, with even more colors, as well. Now there were Oranges, as though the reds and yellows had crossed somehow, and created a shade that made him think of sunset.

 

Also abundant were roses that he knew from his own homeland—Fire and Ice Roses. It was a cross between red and white, the two colors existing, with mainly white petals with orange tips. Reminded strongly of his heritage, he reached out to remove one from the wall of the underground passage, and picked one.

 

Carrying his new item, he continued on down the passage, and he could tell that it was getting dark. His elven senses needed no light, but he considered briefly turning back anyway. He continued for a few paces, and was about to return to The Mighty Pen, when he saw light up ahead. Curious, he trekked onward, finally coming to the end of the tunnel.

 

What he saw there was nothing less than astounding. There was no ceiling to the underground cavern, and thus, the golden sunlight of the day seeped in freely, giving everything a heavenly glow. The floor was of shale cut into square tiles, alternating light and dark, and it was perfectly flat and even. Stone benches, reminiscent of park scenes, adorned the edges of the rock tile, and looked on into the center of the well-lit cave. In the center of the tiled area was a fountain made of stone, round and simple, with three tiers. Each basin was circular, and smaller than the one previous, with the water flowing into the one below it. At the top was a rose, elegant and beautiful. It seemed that this rose was supposed to pour water, but either the valve had been closed, or disconnected over the time that this grotto had gone unvisited.

 

But what awed Merelas the most were the roses. Outside the benches, the creator of this place had stopped laying tiles, leaving about a yard between the wall and the stone tiles. Rose bushes grew in this space—the flowers alternated colors, with as many different varieties as you could imagine. The roses grew up the walls, as well, covering the walls in a multicolored array of beauty.

 

Finally, he looked down to the floor below him, and was startled to see a small pool of blood. Wondering how it had happened that this place (which had obviously been untended for a great amount of time), he examined it, and found it to be as he had thought—fresh.

 

Suddenly, Merelas realized that the blood had to have come from him. He looked down at the rose he was holding. Upon closer examination, he found that a thorn had cut his palm, and was still stuck into the flesh of his hand. As he bled, he removed the rose thorn, but looked around the room.

 

Why didn’t I notice that I had impaled my hand on a thorn? He wondered…

But that was silly. He already knew why. When we see the beauty in life, we miss the pain.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

A week or so later…

 

Merelas stood on the steps outside the front entrance to The Mighty Pen keep. He shivered… it was getting colder, and the snows were coming soon, he could tell.

 

Where is he? He promised to be here by sunset on the fifth day after his message reached me. Merelas watched as the sun started to descend over the hill nearly a league away from him, where he stood, and he started to turn around, to go back into the warmth.

 

Something caught his eye, however… a glint of something bright caught his eye, and he stopped. It was on the hill, and it appeared to have reflected the light of the setting sun. Merelas squinted, and his elven sense revealed to him the shape that was indeed approaching quickly.

 

The light slowly diminished, painting everything around him a darker shade, almost blue, while the sky itself exploded into a myriad of oranges, pinks, golds, and purples.

 

It reminds me of the wall of the Courtyard… beautiful, he thought, as the shape drew nearer still. Slowly, the half fire-elf’s eyes changed colors from his usual red, to green, as they always did when he was happy about something. As the sun sunk lower in the sky, the landscape it had painted in the sky dimmed, losing some of the boldness and brightness of color. Still, the shape drew nearer—less than a hundred yards, now, probably.

 

Eventually, only a sliver of the sun remained, barely peeking out above the far-off hill. Just before this fragment, too, disappeared, the shape of a horse, unsaddled and riderless cantered up in front of the stone porch before Merelas. Steam rose from the chestnut’s back, as it had sweat profusely in the journey. It jogged up to the stone, and shifted before the half fire-elf’s eyes. First, it’s back bent, bringing it upright, and its nose shrunk back into its face. The hair appeared to fall off of its body, and became a cloak around the body of a human or elf.

 

Not missing a step, the shape-shifter continued walking throughout the transformation, and just as it was complete, started up the steps towards Merelas.

 

“Merelas, I haven’t seen you in ages! How have things been? How is The Pen?”

 

Merelas laughed, in true humor, like he hadn’t laughed in a long time. His Godfather had come to the pen, just as he had asked, and was happy to see him and be here. He did need his “Expert Opinion,” although there were plenty of druids about, if he had really tried to find them. Somehow, though, he had thought that Balladore just needed a visit to his old stomping grounds.

 

“I am fine… all the better for catching sight of you, you old druid!”

 

“Aha, humor, you always were witty, Mere! I’d give you a hug, except I’m all sweaty, and such—“

 

“Oh, hush!” Merelas said, and rushed over to hug the “Old Druid.”

 

The two went inside together, and were careful to let no one see the druid… it would be a surprise to the pen that he was here—that had been part of Balladore’s conditions that he had sent on ahead. He would reveal himself… in time. For now, he cloaked himself again, and shifted into a raven. Quickly, he perched on the half fire-elf’s shoulder, and rode with him to Balladore’s old room. They came upon the oak door with the letter “B” carved into it, and the Raven hopped off of Merelas’ shoulder.

 

“Until tomorrow, old bird,” Merelas said with a chuckle. The raven cawed at him in response, and double-checked to be sure that no one was around. When he was sure they weren’t, he shifted back into himself, opened the door, and stepped inside.

 

Home.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The next day…

 

The next morning, Balladore flew out of his window (in raven form), and into the Verdant Gardens. He met Merelas where they had decided, right at the beginning of the path that lead to the cavern Merelas had discovered the previous day.

 

Looking around at the familiar gardens, where he had spent much of his time, Balladore hesitated. He so wanted to stay, to run amuck in his true home—these gardens… but he had promised to help Merelas. And this time, there would be no breaking of the promises.

 

He was still in bird form, perched on Merelas’ shoulder, as they came to the entrance of the underground passage. As they made the slow, gradual descent, the raven threw himself into the air and flew on ahead, reaching the tunnel entrance before Merelas, and shifting back into his human form.

 

“Quite dark down here… we’ll have to do something about that,” he said. Although both Merelas and Balladore were part elven, the non-elven participants would need the addition of light.

 

Suddenly realizing his surroundings, Balladore gasped. He looked at all the roses on the walls—all of the different types, and was filled with joy. “It’s beautiful!” he said, and stopped for a moment to admire.

 

“Wait until you see the main room,” Merelas said, chuckling.

 

Balladore gaped at the half fire-elf, but followed him, with interest. Eventually, they came to the cavern. Again, Balladore was amazed. Here, with the sunlight, there was no need of the fireball, so Merelas banished it, and watched his godfather examine the place.

 

Balladore moved about, first to the fountain, then to the benches, then to the roses, and back to the fountain. Eventually, he fell to his knees, with tears in his eyes.

 

“What’s wrong,” Merelas asked, rushing over.

 

“Nothing,” Balladore said, “Absolutely nothing.” And he sat there and cried for a while, happy to be back to his old home, though he had never known this place when he was here before.

 

Eventually, the druid composed himself, and gave Merelas a brisk set of instructions. This is the Balladore I knew, thought Merelas, and he smiled inwardly at the thought of it.

 

“Go to my chambers. I believe I had a spare at the foot of my bed, on top of the hope chest. I will need for you to bring it to me. I shall work here until your requests have been finished, as well as a few touches of my own. I ask for a small amount of food to be lowered in to the base of the tunnel a few times a day, though I will not eat much. Please let a fireball hover above it to guide me to it… the halls are dark, and I have no touch for fire. Finally, I must make a request you may not wish to comply with. If you do not, I will not help you,” he said sternly. Merelas smiled to himself yet again, but asked him the request.

 

“You may not enter this place again until I am finished. Go now, or I shall,” he commanded, and Merelas hastened to do his bidding. He had thought something like this might happen, and so he had been prepared to obey this strange wish.

 

Over the next few days, the druid mediated, ate, and worked… he never rested for more than an hour at a time, and mostly only twice a day, when Merelas brought him food. The rest of his time was spent repairing the damage that neglect had done to the cavern.

 

Although it was still beautiful, there were some logistical problems with the underground courtyard. The halls were dark, as he had said, and so Balladore would have to think of a solution for that. In the meantime, he tended to the main room. The slate had been overgrown with the vines, reaching across the entire room, and had to be cleared.

 

Lovingly, the druid forced the vines to crawl back into the dirt perimeter of the room, but he never killed any of the plants. Slowly, but surely, the slate was cleared. Mercifully, there had been no sorts of landslides, or anything that would cause rocks to fall into the cave, and so the slate had been left in prime condition, although it was extremely dusty. Balladore conjured a small wind, which functioned to sweep the tiles, and clear them of dust. He did the same with the fountain, and, with a great deal of surprise, he realized that the rose that capped the fountain was fashioned from gold!

 

Next, he looked above the door to the tunnel. It seemed odd to him, somehow, and he examined it more closely. Quickly, he realized that right above the tunnel, there was a piece of stone, which obviously prevented further rose growth above the entrance. Curious, he pulled the roses and their vines back from the stone block, and found that it was actually a name-plate of sorts. Chiseled perfectly into the stone were the words “The Rose Courtyard.”

 

This gave him an idea of sorts. Since the hallway was so dark, they would have to find a way to light it. Perhaps, if I pull back the roses from a hole big enough for a bracket, we can install one and have torches light the tunnel… hmm…

 

Balladore did this, but wondered how he would ever be able to make torch-brackets. The obvious answer is that I won’t be able to make them… but Merelas… wasn’t he a Blacksmith? Or a silversmith? Or something? Putting the question aside for now, he returned to the courtyard.

 

It’s open-air. That simply won’t do, and I have an idea of how to fix it… but I’m not sure that I have sufficient power to do it.

 

The druid pondered, for a moment. There must be some system for keeping out the bad weather as well as foreign materials. His immediate response was a shield, and that would do quite nicely… except for the fact that he couldn’t create one, and neither could Merelas.

 

This also meant he would have to reveal himself earlier than he had planned… Drat my cursed, incompetent, exhausted body! the Druid thought, as he pondered whom he would trust well enough to reveal himself to before he was quite… composed enough.

 

And then there was the matter of the fountain. The blasted, beautiful thing wouldn’t work for anything. He crept over to the bottom basin, and looked at it. Hmm… he thought, and he kneeled down next to it, placing his hand upon the stem that held the second basin and the rose. He placed his other hand on the tile he knelt on, and tried to look into the earth. It was more difficult because of the slate, but perhaps…

 

The druid found the water source that had fed the fountain before—a spring. The reason the fountain no longer functioned was because the spring had been disconnected with the fountain. Its water now bubbled up to the surface, around the courtyard. Easily fixed, he thought, with far more confidence than he truly had.

 

Balladore reached out to the water, mentally, and willed it to return to its original course. The water slowed, briefly, and almost stopped, reversing its flow. However, just as he was sure he had succeeded, the water resumed flowing. Bah!

 

Praying to the Lady Nature, Balladore asked her to feed the fountain, that its beauty might increase, and that people might see her splendor through it. A little flattery of the Gods and Goddesses never hurts, he thought. He heard an audible, female cackle, as though his patron goddess had heard his thought. He was about to give up hope, when suddenly, as quick as lightning, the water switched its course back, and the fountain began to bubble.

 

YES!

 

The druid celebrated briefly, until he was started when his stomach growled at him. Looking at the sun, Balladore realized it was nearly three in the afternoon, and Merelas usually brought him a meal around now. As he walked down the hallway to the open air, he felt oddest sensation he had ever experienced. It was as if the walls were moving around him. Immediately, the druid thought of an earthquake, and he braced up the earth around him. Lady Nature! If it falls now, I’ll kill myself! I’ve worked too hard!

 

But it wasn’t an earthquake. It was nothing of the sort. The shadows themselves had moved in the dark tunnel, and Balladore had sensed reality bending a bit, to allow Yui Temae to stand before him in her ebony cloak.

 

“I never noticed this place before. I scanned the shadows around the pen, and I saw something that shouldn’t have been here… you.”

 

“Yui! You nearly scared the life out of me! Lady Nature! Oh, my. Well… oh!” Balladore said suddenly, realizing that she was seeing him for the first time in several years.

 

“I’m… I’m sorry, Yui. It was… it was all a mistake, and—“

 

“I know it was, you big lump!” She sprinted the distance between them, and threw her arms around the druid, dropping all pretense of harshness. “I’m so glad to see you!”

 

“As I am you, Yui… as I am you.” He said slowly, wiping tears from his eyes.

 

As they parted, Yui asked what he was actually doing here, and Balladore explained the entire ordeal… how he had traveled here from Xavier, again, and what Merelas had asked him to do. As they retrieved his food (Merelas had simply left it, and gone off someplace else), and returned to the Courtyard, Yui gasped. “It’s beautiful,” she said… and it was. It was even better after Balladore’s efforts, and he was almost finished. The sunlight shone in brightly, but clouds were beginning to creep in from the east. It smelled like rain, to Balladore, and druids are rarely wrong when it comes to the weather.

 

“Yui… you wouldn’t know how to set up a… a type of shield, now, would you? To keep out rain, and other objects? Covering that hole, I mean.”

 

“Hmm…” The huntress pondered, and thought quickly. “Well… I don’t believe that I can provide the mana necessary to keep such a thing up… but, I do believe that there’s an item in the vaults of the keep that would do nicely,” she explained, excited.

 

“Is there any way you could fetch it, and help me connect it to a shield?”

 

“Of course. I’ll walk there, and be right back, she said.” Yui gathered her ebony cloak about her, and walked out into the hallway (where there were shadows), and disappeared. More quickly than Balladore had expected, she returned, and revealed to him a crystal that she had found.

 

“This used to hold open a permanent portal from the pen to another village… but we started getting all sorts of unwanted visitors, so we took down the portal and saved the crystal,” she said matter-of-factly, and looked around.

 

“Perhaps, since you are the one who, I assume, will be tending this place… you should be trusted with the crystal?”

 

“Oh… well, yes, I suppose that would be right.”

 

“Of course. If you would let me see your staff, for a moment?”

 

Balladore provided the mage with the staff. Narrowing her eyes, calculating, she held the crystal on the top of the flat staff with one hand, and held her other in a fist. Quickly, she began to chant, starting an incantation that became increasingly more complex. Eventually, she opened her fist, and gestured towards the hole with her palm. A brilliant blue disc seemed to float out of her hand, expanding quickly, and fitting into place around the hole. It stayed blue for a moment, then became invisible. Immediately, Balladore noticed there was no longer any wind in the room.

 

Yui handed Balladore his staff back. Balladore looked at it, and realized that the crystal had been fused to the top of the walking stick.

 

“And this will maintain that shield?” he asked, glancing at the Mistress of Shadows.

 

“As long as the crystal doesn’t break,” she said, with a wink.

 

“Yui, thank you so—“

 

“Think nothing of it,” she said, walked out into the hallway, and left via the shadow paths.

 

The druid collapsed onto one of the benches, exhausted… And so, it is finished.

Edited November 6, 2003 by Merelas

[Merelas]

Merelas mounted the last bracket into the space where Balladore had cleared the roses, and stepped into the room.

 

"All right, Ball... all we have to do is announce what this has all been for, and we're ready to go.

 

"I suppose so," replied the druid, a little glum.

 

"What's the matter?"

 

"I don't know... it's just... this place has been such a blessing for me, while I was repairing it, and meditating... I just felt such peace... and now others will be here."

 

"Yes... but we must share the beauty, don't you think, Godfather?"

 

"Yes, of course. Of course you're right, Merelas. Do you have the post ready for the bulletin board?"

 

"Right here," he said, patting the pocket of his shirt.

 

"Good... well... I suppose you ought to go put it up."

 

"Right... I'll be back in a flash, Balladore," and with that, Merelas departed, and headed over to the community bulletin board in the tavern, as well as anywhere else he could plaster copies. The announcement read thus:

 

TO ANY AND ALL MEMBERS OF THE PEN:

 

Please join us for a celebration of Beauty in The Rose Courtyard. All members are encouraged to come prepared for entertainment, and to entertain, themselves! Please dress as you see appropriate-there is no dress code. Again, everyone is welcome, and directions to the new Courtyard are below.

 

Below each announcement was pinned a map, with directions to The Rose Courtyard.

[Merelas]

As the People gathered into the Rose Courtyard, Merelas stood up on the bench opposite to the entrance.

 

"Friends! Members of the Pen! Welcome. I am glad to have you with me on this fine day, and I hope you enjoy the beautiful surroundings. First, I would like to welcome back our very own Balladore, and thank him for his help in reparing the damage that neglect had done to our Courtyard," he said, and before people could start speaking in hushed tones about Balladore, he plunged on with his speech."

 

"Friends! I issue each of you now, a challenge! As the scenery I have introduced to you is very beautiful, so is this celebration to be! I challenge each of you to display beauty here in public, and to celebrate it! Let us not dwell on the terrors that life has in store for us, at least through the duration of this celebration.

 

"Yes, let The First Annual Tournament of Roses begin! The winner shall be determined by myself. I shall judge each entry by its exemplification of beauty! Any and all may enter, and the winner shall be rewarded! Let the Tournament begin!"

 

OOC: Alright, everyone. This is your chance. The tournament rules are as follows:

 

1. If you wish to participate, submit an entry that exemplifies beauty in some way. It should be posted here on the thread for everyone to see. I ask that you keep the entries moderately short, so that I can judge each of them.

 

2. Your entry can be anything, from poetry, to a story, to a single authored RP. The only requirements are that it must (if you want to compete seriously, that is) contain or describe beauty, that it must be original, and that it must be posted here. I will be posting an example entry (not to be considered) soon.

 

3. HAVE FUN!

[The Big Pointy One]

An overly cute fluffy white creature with red bat-like wings flies into The Courtyard. As he lands, the moogle adjusts his head-bopper dealie to ensure it is not out of place or broken from his almost-frantic flight. He removes a rather large pack that greatly overshadows himself then opens it. The moogle then pulls out a thin wooden pedestal and places a thick, glossy blue-coloured book. Pausing to take a breath, he addresses all currently assembled.

 

"Hello, everyone! For those who don't know me, I am known as Ropku. I consider myself a moogle of many talents, all of which I suck at. Or something like that. Anyways, I encourage everyone here to look upon my book of photographs which I have gathered since I um, moved into The Pen."

 

Ropku opens up the book and slowly starts flipping through the pages. The first few are shots of wildlife and nature; amazing animals, forests of countless shades of stunning green, delicate flowers dripping with fresh morning dew, endless skies and sunsets that glimmer all sorts of colours across the horizon. Following these are pictures of The Pen itself, from all sorts of angles, milling with activities in some shots, and totally empty in others. Further on though, are the pictures Ropku obviously admires. They are of his friends. Roxxia and Sliver, lovers and friends, strong members of The Seven, gazing into each others' eyes so intently, it was as if at the time, nothing else existed. Stick and Mr.Bunny sprawled out on the floor in Stick's room, sound asleep, wearing not much more than a content smile and a pile of half-eaten carrots. Rocoss and his twin sister, with the former wearing a rarely-seen ear-splitting grin and the latter wearing a look that would scare demons down to the deepest level of the abysses and a water-soaked dress. Next, a more sombre picture of Mr.Bunny being held by his son when they first re-united. There are many pages more of pictures like this; not just of The Seven either, but of all the Pen's Members and soon-to-be members. There are plenty pictures of Penners having a good time at social events such as the Fall Ball. There are pictures of Poets in front of captive audiences, reciting prose that surely was stunning for all those who experienced it, followed by a picture of the same poet bowing for the same appreciative audience as they cheer on. There are pictures of many different adventurers on many different outings from The Pen, surely in life-or-death situations. There are still more to follow, many just random pictures of various Penners hanging out and having a blast. But lastly, there is a picture of every single person associated with The Pen in an interesting collage. It is tweaked so that everyone seems to be joining arms in a massive huddle, grinning like fools for the photographer.

 

"You see," says Ropku, closing the album shut, "What I find beautiful in this world, and all the worlds I've been to, more beautiful than god's creatures, moreso than nature's creations and more even than the beauty we can find in physical appearance, is friendship. When you have good friends, nothing else matters. Everything else in the world could be falling apart around you, but with your friends there, you could halt any sort of physical, spiritual, mental or emotional decay attacking you. Friends are with you when you're high, friends are with you when you're low. They're always there for you, whether you know it or not. I'm here because of my friends. I hope everyone here has friends as wonderful as I do. If not, they should seek some out. Do not be afraid to ask, because if you like someone, you should not hesitate to try and be their friend. Also, it easy to befriend people around here, because everyone I met is so caring, patient and easy-going (for the most part ;p ).

 

When you think about it, isn't that what this place is all about? This community? It's about friends coming together to help each other out. To be there for each other at times of need, and at times of pleasure. And simply put, that's just friggin' beautiful. It is so beautiful, I'm almost at a loss for words right now. (Finally) I just want to say thank you to all my friends here, and thank you to everyone who made this place possible, and thank you all who gathered here to listen to me today. Thanks!"

[Merelas]

"Thank you very much, Ropku... not only were your photographs beautiful, but the message behind them was even more-so. I appreciate you taking the time to come here and show us your album, as well as telling is about the photos. Your submission to the tournament is definately accepted, with many thanks!

 

"And now, if I may, though it will be hard to follow up that inspiring message, I shall give a demonstration... not a submission, but an example of an entry, if you will. Please, bear in mind, as Ropku has so fluently and expertly demonstrated that anything can be considered a submission.

 

"And, without further ado... my simple demonstration... I hope you all enjoy it. If you all would give me a bit of room... thank you very much."

 

Merelas stepped into the courtyard with everyone sitting on the benches around the tiles, or standing near them. Merelas drew his sword from the sheath on his back with a flourish, and held it before him. Then, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and froze. He stood there, stock still, for a long time, not moving a muscle, and holding his breath. One hand held his sword pointing out before him, with his elbow pointing out from his side. The other was held lower, almost waist level, with his fingers together, and pointing outward.

 

Eventually, the pause became so long that people began to worry. Everyone knew that Merelas would never joke about something like this, but he had been standing so still for nearly a minute now. Suddenly, just as someone began to step forward, Merelas moved with the speed of lightning. The half fire-elf thrust his sword forward, and brought his other hand (now clenched into a fist), back, with his elbow thrusting backwards as if to catch an unseen enemy.

 

With a 540-degree spin, he changed the sword into a blur of silver, out at his side in a deadly arc. Facing the other way now, he brought the blade to point straight up, held before him with his other hand resting on the flat of the blade. Moving quicker still, brought the sword down in front of him in a chopping motion. Following this move through, he thrust forward quickly, bending at the waist to nearly a ninety degree angle. With both hands on the hilt of the sword, he leaned slowly to his left, then jumped, rolling in the air, his body completely horizontal. Merelas landed on his feet in the same position he began in, and brought to his left, and up, in a swift arc.

 

Now, he changed tempo completely. Previously, he had been moving quickly in the obviously agile moves of choreographed training… but now he was performing something else altogether. His sword spun vertically twice, in a slow, graceful motion, and he began to chant. The half fire-elf brought the sword out before him now, in a sudden thrust. Just as suddenly, the sword burst into flames, the fire licking at the blade continuously.

 

With a cat-like movement, Merelas brought the sword up around his head, with the point downward, and circled himself with it. The flames seemed to blur as he did so, perhaps wanting to stay behind, and doing so… the half fire-elf was now cloaked in a flame shield, which moved in unison with him, moving as he did so.

 

Quickly, he performed several battle maneuvers, dancing around the courtyard, and fully circling the fountain. Abruptly, his movements ceased. If the spectators had known no better, they would have thought it a coincidence that he was in exactly the same pose as he had begun in. He paused for a long minute, and held the stance—a fighting stance, as it were.

 

Just when the audience began to applaud, he moved again. With speed that awed them, he sheathed the burning sword, and the flamed upon it were extinguished, however, those around him remained as they were. Almost reflexively, his hands formed into fists, and met near his chest. The performer’s eyes closed, and he exhaled. Opening them again, his eyes had changed to a brilliant red, and the flames about him grew brighter.

 

And his right hand opened again, and he pushed it downward, slowly. His left hand likewise shifted from the fist it had been, and moved upward equally slowly. As a response, he brought his right hand up to his chest, and then pushed it out to his right side. He did the same with the left, and now appeared to be a human “T”, with his palms outward. Moving in unison now, both palms slowly moved, until they were facing up. With a swirl of flame, he brought them back to meet at his chest, until he thrust them back out again, and the flames extended this time out to his side about six feet.

 

Jumping back to the elf, the flames were growing more brightly now. He brought his hands back in near his chest again, and his two index fingers and thumbs formed a triangle. He pushed this outward, and a fireball emerged, and flew straight towards part of the crowd. Some of them gasped and screamed, and jumped out of the way, but before it reached them, it shifted courses, flying upwards towards the open-air roof, and streaking towards the rose that capped the bubbling fountain.

 

But too late… another fireball had been launched, and performed the same thing exactly opposite the crowd on the other side, and met the fireball in mid-air above the fountain, making a large explosion above it, with a shower of sparks everywhere. Merelas quickly snapped each hand at the same time, clapped, and thrust both palms outward towards the fountain…

 

And the water itself burst into flame. The water that bubbled down from the rose at the top was on fire, and it made a spectacular sight. The flaming water coursed through the two basins of the fountain, and more continually fell from the top. It was an anomaly, and everyone recognized it as such.

 

And as suddenly as he had started at the beginning, he stopped. He paused to let the image of the fountain sink in for a while, and then made a motion like a conductor who wished his orchestra to cease playing a note.

 

In reply, all the flames stopped immediately, and the fountain began spilling water again. The audience all applauded, and Merelas staggered, out of breath and tired. He smiled raggedly, and took a drink from the flask of water at his hip.

 

When the crowd had quieted down, he spoke. “Thank you, my friends… thank you. But this is more than just a showy battle-display. What I have just shown you is part of a ritual from my race… it was the beginning of the flamedance, which is… well. You could say that it’s a “fire-summoning” ritual, which gives the dancer nearly full control of the element of fire.

 

“The point is that this is a ritual that our race believes in deeply, and with their whole hearts and beings… a condition of the flamedance is that you must believe in it, and in your own ability to perform it. This belief is what sustains our race—that we can use fire as an aid… it is a gift to our race, that we might better the world with it, and use it to help others as we see fit. This belief is what we hold true, above all else.

 

“And because we believe this, we exist. What is truth? Is it not in the eye of the beholder? I believe that it is, and that any person can see anything as truth… and this is beautiful. Everyone on this glorious planet may have their own beliefs, and not infringe upon others’ being, and their right to believe. I hold this above all else—my right to believe.”

 

And with that, Merelas took his seat on the stone bench. “Another demonstrator?”

[Merelas]

OOC: Allright, everyone! Thanks to Stick for a wonderful first entry! Just a few more things to clarify:

 

1. Once again, my post is not being considered an entry-it's only a demonstration of sorts, an example entry, perhaps... of course, you don't need to have the physical apsect of the entry... or even vice-versa. Just remember that your submission will be evaluated on how well it displays beauty-- not even how beautiful it is in itself.

 

2. Contest dates: The contest has been officially open for submissions since November 6, and entries will no longer be accepted after the 1st of December. Again, Nov. 6-Dec. 1 are the dates for the contest.

 

3. I have decided upon a prize, but I believe I'll leave it a surprise until the end of the story!

 

4. Let's have some entries, people! Have fun!!

[Illianna Wolfsong]

One quick question before I dive in head first:

 

Is there a limit to the number of entries made by one person?

 

-Illi

[Illianna Wolfsong]

Diversity

 

They come from different backgrounds and different vantage points. They are confident, insecure, wealthy, in debt, educated, drop-outs, adolescent, grandparent, honey-colored, bronze, mocha, peach, copper-topped, raven-haired, blonde, brunette, grey and bald. They are respected in society, and they are overlooked by it. Yet here, there are all equal. Each voice is as valid as the last, and each voice is as worthy as the next.

 

They tell stories of pain and joy. They paint images of whimsy and warning. They educate us on ourselves. They make us want to be more aware of what is beyond us. They open windows and peep-holes in our own mind's eye that we had long since forgotten to look in. They allow us to see through another's eyes into worlds we have no foothold in, but through their help, we have new consciousness of and can let small aspects of our souls dwell in places neither our hands will feel, nor our eyes will see.

 

Their voices make us angry, sad, vulnerable. Through their words we feel excitement, joy, rapture, loss, compassion, envy, desire, and wonderment.

 

To walk through these fabricated halls and walls and to find refuge among these kindred spirits is to accept one's self. Leave any sense of being ostracized at the door, that is the one thing that cannot enter with you.

 

They accept. They are accepted. One and all, they are The Pen. You are The Pen.

[Merelas]

OOC: Yes, Illianna, I'm sorry to say I can only accept one ENTRY per person, but you may have numerous posts. If you do, just be sure to specify here which you'd like me to consider your entry. Also, you could send a Private Message specifying which post you would like to consider your entry... as long as I know which one it is!

 

IC:

 

Merelas pauses for a moment at the end of the speech made by Illianna, speechless. Eventually, he comes to his senses, and speaks, "Thank you very much, Illianna... I think I can speak for everyone when I thank you for that excellent reminder of what a treasure The Mighty Pen is for all of us. It was a good message delivered expertly, and well recieved. Indeed, the beuaty of tollerance is one that some may overlook, others may not accept... but here at The Pen, we are all accepted. Thank you, once again!

 

"Next?"

[Gwaihir]

Quill Quest turned down at the request of its owner (Merelas)

[Merelas]

I would ask that everyone continue to post entries, though... Let's still have a bit of fun with this!

[Wyvern]

Wyvern strolls into the Courtyard of Roses wearing an unwashed tunic and smelling like a mixture of cuban cigares and dead seabass. Sighing to himself and mumbling various things about mafia don negotiations under his breath, the reptilian Elder takes a long swig from the Decanter of Endless Booze and lets out an enormous belch of flames. The jet of fire that exits Wyvern's mouth seems to sparkle in a warm and comforting light as it's sent into the sky, and brings a tear to the overgrown lizard's eye (probably due to his getting heartburn).

 

Wiping off the corners of his mouth with the sleeve of his tunic in a gentle manner and elegently picking his nose due to a delicate gnat getting caught in his left nostril, the overgrown lizard proceeds to warmly scratch the area underneath his scaly armpits as he glances around at all the beautiful sights to behold in the Courtyard.

 

Ignoring the number of roses and sparkling fountain of the garden, Wyvern turns his attention towards a set of footprints embedded in the gravel near his feet. Crouching on his knees and covering his pant legs with a charming layer of coffee-stain brown in the process, the greedy lizard grins in delight as he notices that the way that the dirt is shaped will surely suffocate any rude and unwelcome gophers. Sniffing at the spot where the footprints rest, Wyvern lets out a sigh of joy as he recognizes the familiar scent of 100 dollar shoes. One of the finest scents on the planet: that of wealth...

 

Lifting himself to his feet and attempting to brush the dirt off of his pants, the overgrown lizard ends up spreading it across his tunic in a fanciful manner, and proudly displays his new collage of colors to a group of amused spectators. Turning towards the entrance of the Courtyard, the reptilian Elder briefly frowns as he notices Melba walking into the Courtyard. The lizard's expression brightens considerably, however, as he watches the Almost Secretary of Initiates trip over a stiff gopher head protruding from the ground and fall headfirst into a pile of brambles and weeds that had been cleaned out from the walls. The screams of Melba's suffering ring like sweet music to his ears...

 

Prancing towards Ropku happily and trampling over numerous beautiful roses in the process, the lizard salutes the moogle and snatches his photo album with one dirt-covered claw, smudgening the pages in a decorative manner as he rapidly flips through them. Noticing numerous wonderful photos, the lizard's face lights up with joy... even the picture of him getting hit in the face with a frying pan by Celes Crusador gave him a tingle of happiness. Grinning, Wyvern thanks Ropku kindly and hands back the album, regretting that he didn't get a picture of Salinye when he caught her nekkid...

 

Turning towards Balladore and greeting his old friend happily, the overgrown lizard's attention immediatly turns towards the most beautiful thing of all... the golden rose! It sparkled at Wyvern in an intriguing manner, as if wishing to say "I'm worth the 5694389345234234 geld you need to pay off the rest of your debt."

 

Rubbing his scaley chin in contemplation, the greedy reptile grabs a spoon from a refreshment table and begins digging a beautifully shaped hole in the dirt in the hopes of eventually forming a tunnel towards the rose...

 

OOC: Great posts, everyone! I personally like Stick's the best so far...

[Merelas]

Well done, Wyvern! A good reminder that everything in life is beautiful to someone... even if it is Wyvern, lol.

 

Next?!