Slam Quest

[Nyyark]

Nyyark stumbled into Caberet shedding water everywhere. His dark cloak was rent everywhere, its wingfolds bearly recognizable. The normally invisible blue veins that traced his pale face bulged with his exauhstion ofset only by the black hair plastered across his cheek. The ever present brown roots were even more apparent in this state, and to make matters worse one of his contacts had fallen out, leaving him with one eye brown, the other silver.

 

He exhaled sharply as he slopped into something solid. It was a large cat...woman, cat thingy. He blinked the water out of his eyes and cleared his throat.

 

"I don't beleive we've met," Nyyark said, "I'm Nyy-"

 

His eyes widened as two very large birds landed on her shoulders. Owls? He couldn't help but stare

 

"Ahem" said the Cat-lady-thingy "Do I have something on my owls?"

 

Nyyark knew he should say something, somehow salvage the situation. But they were so huge and intimidating. He'd never- "eep!"

 

The Hooter's spell was broken as he tore off the leech that just bit his his arm. As he held it in his hand his mind went into overdrive.

 

"Did you know," he said, "that the pen has a leech farm. Apparently there is a passage that leads to it right outside my door. You see many pen members prefer the ink that can be extracted..."

 

'This is odd' he thought as he talked. 'Things are still more difficult than usual. Its almost as if she's-'. Nyyark stopped his ramble abruptly as he spied a certian crow lady across the room. 'She's here!' his brain screamed. 'I've gotta hide!'

 

"I'm sorry," Nyyark said, "but I need to go now."

 

Dropping the leech Nyyark rushed to the darkest corner her could find. Only after he squished into his seat did he see the shadowy figure he shared his table with.

 

"I won't tell if you don't"

[Wyvern]

Wyvern forces a smile as Mira reads off the final slam poem of the evening, trying to ignore the ever-present owl talons digging into his scaly shoulders. He applauds with the rest of the judges and audience, and winks to Mira as he passes by and dips his hand in the bribery bin. Satisfied with the sound of a clinking coin, the reptilian judge cringes smugly and jerks back into his seat.

 

Wyvern finally relaxes as the owls depart from his shoulders to pay Nyyark a visit. He raps his claws nervously on the tabletop as Nyyark mentions the leech farm, suddenly remembering a peculiar Almost Dragonic Marketing Incident best left buried in the Pen's sewer system. The lizard clears his throat loudly.

 

"Hey, look everyone!" Wyvern shouts at the top of his lungs. He points at Judge Vlad and his charming female associate. "Vlad is judging, what a classy lich of a judge he is! And his companion's a looker too... give this couple a round of applause!"

 

An awkward moment of silence passes, then a round of applause fills the room. Vlad glares in Wyvern's direction, his undead cheeks almost brightening at the lizard's diversion. The reptilian Elder perks his ears up for any signs of leech conversations, then breaths a sigh of relief and closes his beady eyes.

 

The moment of truth. The lizard's claws make their way to the edge of the "Bribery Bin," almost acting on their own will. They eagerly reach into the depths of the bin, brushing along sides and fingering at air until they come across... nothing.

 

"Well!" Wyvern lets out an oafish grunt and turns his snout to the sky. "I have just the system to judge this set of slam poets. Jusssst the system."

 

The overground lizard lets out a diabolical gale of laughter, and proceeds to scribble a set of scores for reverie to review.

[Cyril Darkcloud]

Outside the sky takes on a grayish cast and rain begins to fall, a warm and light rain that mutes all other sound outside the conservatory. Many are the voices that have gathered and their speaking has been strong, so strong that it lingers in the air about the windows that open out onto the balcony. It is good to hear such speaking in this place. He nods to the small owl perched upon the edge of the windswept tower where he has been sitting. In the years he has moved about the open spaces of this place so far from the Sky never has that one who pens his story posted him in this forum. “It is time, Whisper.”

 

Hooting softly, the owl stretches its dusky wings and glides silently to the conservatory. Whisper enters the grand chamber through one of the windows and flies in a noiseless arc above those gathered within. Many are the voices which speak and, indeed, many are the shapes of the speakers – even the hooting calls of other owls might be heard. Within the varied notes of these many voices, however, one set of tones is distinct and these tones guide the eyes of the owl to the shape of the Dreamlost. Silently the owl turns and flies directly to the place where the Dreamlost stands and circles him once before hooting softly and flying outward to the balcony.

 

He steps forward out of the wind and onto the stone balcony as the owl circles the Dreamlost. His face is wind burned and his clothing damp with rain. Still he remains on the balcony for he cannot long abide the confining stone walls that those of this place call their Keep. He nods a greeting to those eyes which meet his own and, moving as silently as the owl which is his companion, moves a small stone bench into a corner of the balcony where the wind has a peculiar quality about its gusting. Sitting down he turns his face upward into the rain for a moment and turns his attention to the poets and waits for the next round of the slam to begin.

[Zariah]

During all the performances, Zariah sat in the back of the room near the exit. She saw all the Pennites were eating and drinking and having a great time. As her eyes began to glaze over for a mini-nap, a peculiar form entered looking dark and wet.

 

I wonder who that is...Mynx is there...maybe she'll introduce me.

 

As Zariah caught a glimpse of the commotion, she stood, and the figure disappeared into the crowd. Frowning, Zariah decided to sit back down and wait to see what Reverie wanted to do next. She resolved, however, to ask Mynx about the stranger.

[Peredhil]

Guido and Nuncio looked at Peredhil in fascination. Their Boss was literally pulling out his hair. It regrew instantly, so shiny black that at times it seemed silver in moonlight or red in firelight, but the small pile on the table was increasing

 

"Think! Think! Think!" Moaned Peredhil, for once at a loss for words.

 

Nuncio tore his troubled gaze away as Guido digged an elbow into his ribs.

 

"Hey Nunce... It's dat Crowguy. And da hooters have quit bruisin' Wyve and are back wit' da Mynx." Nuncio winced.

"Guido... you know that cats and owls are our natural predators. Why can't you just leave them alone.?"

"Heh," Guido chortled. "Youse know what da 24 Stone Guinea Pig said to da cat?"

"We don't do stones any more..."

"Alright already. Da 148 kilo Guinea Pig den!"

"Why can't use just use pounds?"

"A pound is currency, not weight."

"But it can be both."

"Argh! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE BIG MUSCULAR GUINEA PIG SAID TO THE CAT!"

"Of course, 'here kitty kitty kitty'. That's so old its moldy. Why can you just say what you mean? You never could tell a joke."

 

They quit bickering for a moment to watch Peredhil pull on his ears and scrinch his eyes tightly.

 

"He's really hard up for da Muse juice, ain't he?"

"Yes, I hope he finds something to emote. Round one is complete already."

[Wyvern]

Wyvern clears his throat of a few ashes and steps to the front of the judging tables. The lizard spits to the ground like a cobra, then rummages for his flashcards on the tabletop.

 

"What is up to all of you hip cats in attendence?" Wyvern hisses the words venomously. "I, the Mighty Judge Wyvmettic, have reached my set of scores for this round of slam poetry. Do you dig what I am saying?"

 

Wyvern whips out a few sheets of paper and waves them in the air for a moment, now grinning. Vlad, Ayshela, and revery all cast the lizard odd glances. The murmers of the audience recede to silence. Wyvern tosses the flashcards over his shoulder and begins reading from his sheet, savouring every word.

 

"In order to judge such a fine group of slam poets, I used the Aardvark Rating System Engine. And here, ladies and gents, are the results:"

 

Revery raises a finger as Wyvern begins reading off his scores.

 

"The ratings:

 

Loki Wyrd's Reading:

 

Told in second person: -10 points

Leaves reader with a cold, sickly feeling: 15 points

Uses assonance: 5 points

Marketing Figures deemed justifiable: 30 points

Puke-inducingly small children strapped down and exposed to E. Coli: 50 points

Potentially marketable Energizer Bunny® plug: 30 points

Energizer Bunny relentlessly bangs on his own drum: -15 points

"Penetration" used to describe banging: -10 points

Bracket breaks for breathers: 5 points

Lack of Bribe: -99 points

 

Overall: -10 + 15 + 5 + 30 +50 + 30 - 15 - 10 + 5 - 99 = 1 point

 

---

 

cryptomancer's Reading ("To morning I summon my heart"):

 

Told in first person: 10 points

Protagonist lives to see another day: 5 points

Uses alliteration: 5 points

Lack of comic dance routine in repeated steps: - 10 points

Rain water and wetness extensively looked down upon: 30 points

Bed bondage weighed down by lead: - 5 points

Heart backs down, but Muscle never closes itself: 20 points

Protagonist lives in his own personal threshold: 15 points

Fitness crazes with numeric breath timers: 15 points

Hill with dew marketing potential is conquered: 15 points

Lack of Bribe: - 99 points

 

Overall: 10 + 5 + 5 - 10 + 30 - 5 + 20 + 15 + 15 + 15 - 99 = 1 point

 

---

 

Gabriel's Reading:

 

Told in first person: 10 points

Leaves reader with warm fuzzy feeling: 15 points

Uses alliteration: 5 points

Protagonist is Archangelic: 15 points

Ultra-modern, brain communication technique used in reading: 50 points

Beaches referenced just in time for Summer: 10 points

Heart smiles after getting closed down in other poems: - 10 points

Unhindered gait only results in beach relaxation: - 15 points

Protagonist's religious background is demonstrated on sand: 20 points

Lack of Bribe: - 99 points

 

Overall: 10 + 15 + 5 + 15 + 50 + 10 - 10 - 15 + 20 - 99 = 1 point

 

----

 

drummondo's Reading:

 

Told in first person: 10 points

Second person also used, but only to insult: 10 points

Uses assonance: 5 points

Uses alliteration: 5 points

Poem treated as a slam poem: 50 points

Keeps it real wit the language: 20 points

Word "soaked" used to describe bling, implying wetness: - 20 points

Late-Great-Grandfather Clock's chimes are unenthusiastic: - 10 points

Poems rejects the concept of rating systems like this one: 10 points

Poet is a swooner, thus offering potential competition to Thomas: 10 points

Curses and swearing intertwined: 5 points

Poet never swears on any particular curse: - 5 points

Poem can be chanted to boost street cred: 10 points

Lack of Bribe: - 99 points

 

Overall: 10 + 10 + 5 + 5 + 50 + 20 - 20 -10 + 10 + 10 + 5 - 5 + 10 - 99 = 1 point

 

---

 

Mira's Reading ("Daedelus Son"):

 

Told in third person: 10 points

Uses alliteration: 5 points

Cruel Gods granting moments of absolute realization as evil jokes: 30 points

Highly marketable single prayer never actually revealed: - 10 points

Icarus drowns, once again placing an emphasis on water: - 20 points

Attempts to beat the crap outta the water: 20 points

Wax proves to be more solid than the dew found in previous poems: 10 points

Useless wings similar to those of Mighty Judge Wyvmettic: 25 points

Whirld is cleared out in a blink: 20 points

Lack of Bribe: - 99 points

 

Overall: 10 + 5 + 30 - 10 - 20 + 20 + 10 + 25 + 20 - 99 = 1 point"

 

The audience and judges stare in silence, wondering if the reptilian Elder is actually serious. Wyvern cackles and raps his claws against his empty "Bribery Bin."

 

"Looksss like a tie in my book." Wyvern sneers and points a claw at the slam poets. "Mighty Judge Wyvmettic declares a rating of 1 for all!"

[Nyyark]

Nyyark blinked as Wyvern made his announcement. Absurd as it was it meant he missed much of the poetry already. Blasted curse! He peeled away another leech. As long as he remained hidden from Zariah he ought to be able to hear the rest.

[Loki Wyrd]

Loki heaves a flaming bag of (geld?) at Wyvern's bribe box and ducks under his table, where he hopes to be served a cool beverage.

[Ayshela]

Ayshela sat in a seat a bit behind the judges' table, where she could listen without trying to filter out owl sounds. She watched and listened with interest, making mental notes on each performance.

 

Loki - engaging opening, and quite descriptive - she could almost feel herself riding along to indeterminate, unknown points.

 

cryptomancer - Ayshela cringed at "dark and dreary" and noted the inconsistent meter, as she sat back and enjoyed the clear personal viewpoint.

 

Gabriel seemed nervous, and Ayshela tried to listen but found when he was done that beyond the archaic pronunciation forced for meter, she really *had* no impression to separate this from any other like it. She frowned, and tried to recall detail, but was distracted by...

 

drummondo - his posturing caught her attention, though waiting with raised eyebrow appreciating the strings of related rhymes but feeling tripped up even in listening as he set a rhythm only to abandon it and set another as he wove his way around the topic.

 

Mira took the stage the last, and Ayshela breathed a sigh of relief as he began, taking a different perspective of a well known subject with clear but not cliched descriptions.

 

Ayshela assembled her thoughts, preparing to record her scores for reverie. Hearing Wyvern's scoring, her eyes narrowed a bit and she strode by with a scowl, hoping that her scoring would be of *some* use in reverie's well-run quill quest. She then returned to her seat to await the next round, simmering silently.

[Scarlett O'Harpy]

Scarlett, ears ever tuned to the sound of abandoned geld, or morals, sidles up to Wyvern's bribe bin. A quick shufty in several directions assures her that everyone's preoccupied with the judging. Loki's bag of lovelies nestles snugly against her cleavage as she cackles her way back to the bar.

[reverie]

Fountain had been in the process of busing tables in the back, so Mynx could had more time to serve drinks and what not...It was a good crowd, he thought, but things were so busy he could barely keep up...

 

Then suddenly he stopped. Wyvern had called for everyone attention's and had then proceded to announce his scores...

 

"That's funny," Fountain said out loud to no one in particular, "I thought Master Revery was supposed to do that..." Then Fountain, watched in shocked silence as Wyvern finished his speech:

 

"Looksss like a tie in my book." Wyvern sneers and points a claw at the slam poets. "Mighty Judge Wyvmettic declares a rating of 1 for all!"

 

Fountain gasped, "A draw? You can't have draw in a Slam...It's unheard of...and in the first round?" Stunned Foutain glanced over at Revery to see what he was going to do. Revery look composed as ever, but Fountain percieved a slight alteration in his Master's appearance. "Oh no," Fountain said aloud again..."He's mad, real mad..."

 

From a dark corner, a whisper came out of seemingly nowhere, "psst...how can you tell?"

 

Fountain startled by the Corner suddenly speaking to him fumbled, "...what, who said that... huh?"

 

The hushed voice called back, "The M.C....Rev... How can you tell, he's mad...it's Nyyrak by the way, I'm hiding out back here."

 

"Oh," Fountain said recovering, "It's very slight, but if you look closely enough, you can see he's Glowing..."

 

And sure enough Revery aura's started to appear... Only at the edges, at first, but it started to fill in: dark ocean blue, swirling in and out as if in a tidal motion constantly reversing itself...

Edited June 3, 2005 by reverie

[reverie]

Revery raised a finger as Wyvern began reading off his scores. Too late. Wyvern ignored the Dreamlost’s cautioned ply and began rattling off his peculiar system of totals. The M.C. gave a half smile and approached the Elder, and said “You can’t be serious; you’re joking right?”

 

Wyvern now clutching the bribery firmly and said, “Nope: no bribes, no winner…”

 

The Dreamlost’s appearance wavered slightly, and continued, “So let me get this straight, you see this…” Revery motioned to the hall and surrounding quest, “…as just another game to gain more geld…”

 

Wyvern nodded, rapping his claws on the bin…

 

“I see.” The Dreamlost said.

 

Inwardly revery’s mind raged with fury, I cannot believe he based his entire system of judging on bribes; it’s outrageous. The Dreamlost tried to maintain his outward composure as considered his options. While, the Almost Draconic Elder continued to sneer at the Slam Poets.

 

***

 

Fountain continued his observations with Nyyark at a safe distance

 

“Is it just me or did Revery just get older for a second,” Nyyark said from his corner.

 

Fountain replied, “Oh, that’s probably not good either, He is an Illusionist after all, though a retired one…Pretty old too, but you’d never know it by looking at him.”

 

“So that split second was the illusion lapsing?” Nyyark said.

 

“Yep, and I’m glad we’re back here, I haven’t see the Master slip like that since he came back from the Blitz Realm,” he said.

 

“And what happened then?” Nyyrak inquired. “Oh, he killed Castle.” Fountain replied.

 

“What?!” the crowboy said.

 

Fountain spread his arms wide, “Well he forgot to pay army, and feed the peasants. It was utter anarchy, the people were rioting, the hordes were invading, and It’d been good a 10 years since Castle did anything other than contemplate his surroundings…oh but, don’t worry we put him back together again…uh, eventually”

 

***

 

Deep in the Dreamlost Realm, Commander Quest and Decoy a.k.a. The Mighty Lawn Dart considered the commotion that had befalling Castle Dreamlost.

 

The Mightly Lawn Dart approached Quest who looked clearly concerned. “What’s going Commander; Castle’s issuing the strangest orders: He’s put the Border Guard on Full Alert, Withdrawn the Peasants to the inner keep, Drained the treasury in order to issue the Army outrageously huge Bonuses, and he’s setting up soup kitchens every 2 miles within 100 mile radius of the outer wall…it’s almost as if he’s expects a war…”

 

Quest replied flatly, “It appears, something has upset the Master, and therefore has upset his Castle.”

 

***

 

Peredhil still deeply engrossed in his search for inspiration, had inadvertently sparked his bodyguard into a high state of stress and heightened awareness. Nuncio regarded Gundo; “We better do something about this.”

 

Gundo replied, “Yeah, the boss wouldn’t want his friends fighting inside the Pen.”

 

Nuncio, “Keep watching the boss, I’ll handle this.”

 

 

Totally unaware of it, Revery’s dark blue aura shimmered ominously around him…and the room seemed to cool a few degrees. Revery, turned to Zariah, “Tell the staff to prepare, I’m about to do something.”

 

Zaraih shivered and gripped nervously at her dress, “What? Tell them what…What are you going to do?”

 

However, Revery did not hear her, as turned his attention back to the Erratic Judge. Far from being the most powerful entity in the room, Revery knew he probably should not do this, but…he didn’t care.

 

At this point, he noticed one of the Peredhil’s BodyGuards moving about in the background…

 

Nuncio he believed; Revery turned back to the Elder, but somehow found Nuncio instead…The bodyguard had managed sidle up next to him. “Ixnay on the dernay eatingbay,” he whispered, then was gone as quick as he came.

 

Revery took the message to be from the Ancient, himself and reason started to enter back into his mind... After a long pause, he abandoned his intial plan, and as reason returned so did the normal temperature of the hall. Revery sighed, “Well, if you refuse to judge fairly, then you leave me no choice.”

 

He closed the distance between the Elder and himself and was immediately engulfed in the cavalcade of dwarves.

 

Revery glanced around at them and their wyvernic master, and said simply, “Sleep.”

 

Immediately, the dwarves in attendance and the Elder crumpled to the floor.

 

Zariah still a little nervous approach Revery, “They’re not going to stay like that are they?”

Revery smiled, “No, they’ll wake up in a day or two…well unless someone throws a bucket of ice water on them, but they’ll have one the worst hangovers imaginable.”

 

The Dreamlost, stood over the resting bodies and spoke another spell, “Ice”

 

With, that several small clouds entered the hall, and formed quickly into what could best be described as Ice Elementals in miniature. They were icy humanoid creations with alternating colorings of white and blue… Clad only in Frosty Armor, whose crest bore the emblazoned Insignia of the Dreamlost: A Castle on a Bank of Clouds with a lone Sunbeam Illuminating it.

 

The Platoon of Ice Soldiers then delicately hefted each dwarf by two’s to bed’s that had miraculously appeared in one of the far corners of the room. After the little elders were secured, the Soldiers returned to Wyvern, for it took all of them to heft his enormous weight. A few of them even started to crack under the strain.

 

Snug under gold and silver covers in a very comfy looking bed, Wyvern snored away…loudly. A small bit drool even appeared as his claws twitched and he muttered something about Geld and nekkid Signe. (*Props to Big P. his idea)

Edited June 4, 2005 by reverie

[reverie]

With the Slam now briberly free Revery relaxed, then said, "Ladies and Gentlemans, I apologise for the inconvenious, and if you would please be patience a few more moments the Slam will continue..."

 

"Suspect judging practices had jeopardized the honor and intergity of Slam, and I needed to take action to remedy them," he continued.

 

"Well, it seems we are in need of a new judge...Is there anyone in the audience willing to Judge the Competition? I promise that no harm will come to you, but please try to keep your scores honest..."

 

 

 

With that Revery returned to his Table, and whispered to Zariah, "Sorry 'bout all that...hopefullying we can get things back on track now..."

Edited June 4, 2005 by reverie

[Mynx]

Mynx skidded by weighted under a huge tray of drinks.

"I'd love to - " she began, just as a cry of "Waitress!" cried out at the same time that a loud crash and cry from Thomas echoed throughout the room.

"- but I think I'm needed elsewhere" Mynx finished with a rueful shrug, her owls hooting agreement as the feline waitress continued about her work.

[Nyyark]

"I take that to mean he's done now?" Nyyark asked more than stated.

 

"Most likely" replied Foutain.

 

"Then lets fix this table before anyone notices." Nyyark said, gesturing to the overturned table they were hiding behind.

 

"Lets" said Foutain.

 

Nyyark and Foutain quickly began turning their bunker back into a table. Despite being a shadowy sillouette, the still seated figure in the corner seemed to grin at their efforts.

[Sweetcherrie]

The noise had grown quieter after Revery’s announcement that a new judge was needed, and had slowly gone to a murmur. Sweetcherrie decided that if she were ever going to get out of these toilets it would have to be now. She started banging on the door again, and shouted for help. Her hands were already sore from the banging she had done earlier that night.

 

She had arrived before all the others, because she wanted to be sure of a good seat. She had hung up her coat, and had decided to quickly use the toilet before everything started. But when she wanted to get out again, the knob had come loose and she was locked in. She didn’t want to disturb the poets by her banging on the door, and in between the poems nobody had heard her.

 

At least she’d had enough time to think about them while she was sitting on the toilet, hoping that someone would notice that the door had been locked all evening. She had even made mental notes on them, and was going through them in her head while she kept banging on the door.

 

Personally she had really liked Cryptomancer’s “To morning I summon my heart”. It had made her feel as if it had been herself dragging her feet along the chosen path. The imagery used had made the poem nice to listen, and it flowed well. She also liked the way he had used repetition, and how this had even heightened the feelings of tiredness that the poem evoked.

 

Than there was of course Loki Wyrd’s “This is take-out”. His poem had a totally different style, but she thought the image of greasy-haired teenagers in the back of a car, grabbing in a brown bag and stick hands full of French fries in their mouths was really good. She had been laughing on the toilet about the image the poem had created in her mind. The laugh had sounded hollow, and had reminded her that it wasn’t funny at all to be locked inside a toilet.

 

When Gabriel had started reading she had first been surprised about how the voice had sounded, but then realised that she was only hearing the words in her head. The poem had a neat structure and had left her with a feeling of longing, although she wasn’t entirely sure if that was just the sudden absence of the voice in her head.

 

Mira’s “Deadalus Son” had also been good, but somehow it had felt as if there was something missing. Of course the story told in the poem was familiar and she had really liked his use of what she thought was called alliteration, but it had felt less alive to her.

 

About Drummondo’s “troubled” Sweetcherrie decided that this poem was good, but that she missed a certain structure in it. The use of assonance had been good in places, but in others it had failed to convince her, and the power of the poem had diminished because of this.

 

She smiled at this poet’s enthusiasm; he had sounded eager, almost as eager as her pounding on the door sounded now. Sweetcherrie shouted for help again, and finally heard footsteps on the other side of the door.

[Loki Wyrd]

Having read his first poem, Loki was feeling a tad ill. Or maybe it was the raw hamburger meat he'd found on the ground and eaten. Regardless, he needed to find the bathroom.

 

Clutching his stomach, he stumbles in the direction of the restroom. The hooters catch his attention momentarily, but he senses there are more pressing matters needing attended to, and somehow he manages, without problems, to find his way to the door with a scratched out "Janitor's Closet" that now reads "restroom." Hurriedly trying to turn the doorknob, he recognizes a problem--further illustrated by the banging coming from within.

 

A growl overcomes him, and he shouts, "Move away from the door!" Giving only a brief moment's passage, he proceeds to jumpkick the misbehaving doorknob. His foot punches a hole through the door, and his leg becomes caught. But the door swings open, him precariously sprouting from it, his head dragging along the floor.

Edited June 5, 2005 by Loki Wyrd

[Sweetcherrie]

Sweetcherrie saw a foot coming through the door and jumped back. The next moment she was staring at Loki, who was lying on the floor, his foot still stuck in the door, and clutching his stomach with his hands. She tilted her head to look at him. “I guess that it’s you that needs some help now” she took his foot and pushed it back through the hole. Sweetcherrie hardly had time to thank him from freeing her, before he ran inside the toilet. She hesitated for a moment, but then heard sounds that made it very clear that he wouldn’t want help from her now.

 

She walked back inside only to discover that there was a hooded figure sitting where she had planned to sit. Looking around for a free table she noticed what a chaos it was. Wyvern was snoring loudly and the place looked as if there had been some sort of fight. Mynx’s owls were hooting shrilly while she was running around to serve people their drinks, and it was clear that she was very busy. Sweetcherrie sighed and looked for someone that looked calm enough to tell her what had been happening, when she saw Peredhil. He was sitting at a table and looked lost in though, but next to him there was an empty chair. She decided to ask if she could take that chair, and started walking in his direction. After zigzagging through the room, carefully avoiding Nyyark and Fountain who were just putting one of the tables back on its legs, she arrived at his table. “Is this seat taken?” she asked with a smile.

Edited June 5, 2005 by Sweetcherrie

[reverie]

Revery scanned the crowd looking for a likely judge. Some of the crowd shifted in their seats under the glaze...hmm, no takers...well i guess I shouldn't be suprised; consulations and guarantees aside, I did just take out the last judge...this could be a problem...

 

Then, Revery caught the eye of someone he didn't notice before, and she seemed to be trying to get his attention. Sitting along side the now perpetually preoccupied, though still polite Ancient, was an elegantly dressed young woman, who seemed to have a genuine countenance about her.

 

"Hey, Rev... You need a judge? I heard it all, and I'd be honored to fill in..."

 

Revery matched voice to memory, and recalled her as Sweetcherrie, a page of the Pen... Though young and still fairly new to the pen, she was still highly regarded. A talented tale-spinner, with some unique and amusing charactor creations...

 

"Sweetcheerie, you're a lifesaver, I'd be delighted to have you on as a judge."

 

***

 

 

The Slam Poets shifted back and forth waiting...still waiting for what seemed like for forever. Finally Revery came back from the judges table:

 

"Ladies and Gentleman, The judges have made their decision. May I present to you the three finalists:"

 

Mira, Loki Wyrd, and Cryptomancer

 

 

"Let's give a hand to all the Slam Poets for Particapating, the next and final round will begin after a brief intermission."

 

***

 

 

 

 

Round 2 is now Open. Loki, Mira, and Cryptomancer, you may post at will

Edited June 6, 2005 by reverie

[Loki Wyrd]

Loki steps out of the restroom, looking rather rather pale but determined. He marches to the stage and steps up to the mic.

 

"This is a hybrid product of two of my hobbies: poetry and mycology. Don't be distraught if you're unfamiliar with a couple of the words, as they're probably from latter of the two. I hope this isn't too heavy for the poetry slam setting, it just happens to be the most recent of my works. I call this..."

 

 

 

Rhizomorphic

 

In the microcosm of this petri dish

hangs a tapestry of a halcyon

at rest, eyes vitriolic scalpel,

selectively extracting.

 

     [Above the fireplace,

      a bust

      is secretly displayed;

      wearing the face mercurial

      as the epitaph bound

      to

      the

      stake.

 

 

      Beseeching beads of respiration

      hang in the air:

 

 

           Sunken carnation countenances

         swim the stygian backstroke;

      hooves palpitate tumid convolution.]

 

Basidia hang from the ceiling

like tentacled stalactite,

dripping spores of   sordid   thought. 

Fugue in grey inversion,

ductile wisp of notion brought to strand.

 

 

 

 

      Burgeoning tumult,

breathless calm day at sea.

©~WKG~l==2005==>

 

 

 

*This has been EDITED. I changed my mind as to where I wanted to go with the poem, and could simply not leave it as it was. I don't know if changing your original post is against the rules, if so, feel free to disqualify me.*

 

END COMMUNICATION

Edited June 7, 2005 by Loki Wyrd

[Zariah]

As Loki finished, Zariah decided to try out her "jazzy" approval snaps...

Like clapping but classy...

 

Some others joined in her approval, and she was glad to not embarrass herself.

 

As Loki exited the stage, Zariah got up and meandered through the crowd to see if anyone looked like they needed more to eat or drink.

 

She saw Sweetcherrie had arrived, and was sitting with a couple shadowed figures in the corner. She couldn’t find Mynx, but was still curious to as who that stranger was that had arrived earlier. For a second she thought it could have possibly been Nyyark, but she resolved that it wasn’t since he seemed to have disappeared from the face of the planet. Crow had been away a lot too. She wondered if Nyyark even thought of her; it had been several months and she had pretty much given up on a friendship with him. She shook her head back to reality, and began to head toward that corner.

 

Suddenly, in a flash, almost as fast as the wind, a shadowy figure darted away before she could see any details.

[cryptomancer]

Deep in the corner a caffeinated raven stood and ruffled his feathers, "time to dance" he thought to himself as he hopped gently to the wooded back of the chair.

 

 

As within the crowd that had gathered conversations turned to small talk and mingling chatter, relaxed recouse of the day and life in general, the stage stood momentarily empty, its open floor marked with the soft shifting of shadows that danced in the flicker of the room's light.

 

 

There was a lull in the volume of the room as footsteps rang out, the conversations continuing in a softer note, so those that chose could hear.

 

The hooded figure of Cryptomancer stood, waited, and in a deep clear voice, he spoke.

 

 

Wakefulness called the room to my attention,

Demanding that my mind take full note,

Each ember of whispered conversation

Quenched as in the silence I spoke.

 

“Wait!” simple it drifted,

And in the air hung

Momentarily dazzling all

And winning the attention of some.

 

The beat that started sang my soul,

Each cord I struck was gold,

Echoes of the lyrics voice

Shone like breath in the cold.

 

“Far from my heart my love lives

Her life so close to mine,

Each kiss is stolen form time’s chest,

Each moment richer than wine.”

 

The beat drew the crowd to me,

My song drank their hope,

The intoxication of endless love

And the heart that of it spoke.

 

“Kiss my sweet lips, goddess fair,

Lay your hands within mine,

With my skin your kisses share,

Before our hour does chime.”

 

Sweet melody my voice recalled

Each vision I did share

Lost in love of timeless joy

And treading where none would dare.

 

The crowd saw pity and pain unite,

Within my eyes so dark,

So silver tongue could not beseech

Nor words with happiness mark.

 

I sang my heart to the wind

Each night I sing again

And in my hope I quote the bard

And live on to sing again.

 

 

[Mynx]

Mynx paused in her serving of drinks to watch Cryptomancer's second performance.

She joined in when the others clapped, and as she passed the table he had returned to she conjured up a 6 shot white mocha for the Rune Mage.

"Your fav," she grinned at her friend, already continuing on as she called over her shoulder.

"Congratulations! Und viel gluck!"

 

Weaving through the crowd, owls hooting softly, Mynx soon found herself bumping into Zariah.

"Hey!" the feline grinned. "Great night! Everyone seems to be really enjoying themself!"

"Thanks, I'm glad it's all working out," Zariah managed a tired smile of her own, before clearing her throat softly.

"Hey," she began, "um, who was that guy you were talking to earlier? He kinda ran off in a hurry."

"Yeah, I'm a bit confused myself. He said his name was...Nyyark? I'm not sure...I think my owls intimidated him."

Mynx was about to continue when she heard three simultaneous cries of "Waitress!" from three different corners of the room.

With a rueful grin to her friend, Mynx picked up her tray and went back once more to work.

[Zariah]

"Ny-?" Before she could get the rest out, Mynx was hurried to attend the guests.

 

No. It MUST be some misunderstanding...or not? He's here? Why hasn't he come to say hello? It's the LEAST he can do for standing me up TWICE.... Zariah grumbled to herself.

 

A bit upset, Zariah sat down and put her elbows on the table. She concentrated hard on regaining composure and looked around the room for Reverie. She wondered who was going to win the Slam. They were all really good, and the second round wasn't complete yet.

 

She heard a clank from the kitchen and headed to the door, hoping that if Thomas was behind the crash, he was alright....she smiled secretly, because she used to be terribly clumsy. It seemed only recently, with gained self-confidence, that she was more careful.

[reverie]

As Crytomancer finished, Revery relaxed in his chair. He sipped casuallly on the hot Chai, enjoying the nutmeg and soy combination... aah, warm toxic bliss... The runemage has got some talent, he thought... and Loki too, but he had to admit a lot of it went over his head. Biology was never his favorate subject...but hey, it takes all kinds...

 

Things were going well and pretty much on course, so he decided to sit back and let things just run there course for a bit. Then he noticed Fountain, way, way WAY back in a far corner sitting next to two individuals... Is that Nyyrak he thought? "hmm, maybe?" Well, he couldn't tell from this distance who the other fellow was either, but... Well, it didn't matter. He scribbled a note on a cocktail napkin and had it sent over to Fountain's Table by means of a minor teleportation spell:

 

***

 

Fountain, was pegged in the back of the head by Revery's balled up Napkin... (okay so it wasn't a teleporation spell) The boy immediately turned to see who had throw it at him, slightly peeved. Then he noticed Revery at the front table motioning for him to pick up and open the napkin that was just thrown at him:

 

 

Dear, Fountain, Get back to Work,

 

your's

 

Rev...

 

Fountain, sighed making appoligies to Nyyrak, then excused himself and went off looking for Mynx to see if there was anything she might need.

 

***

 

Once Fountain started moving again, Revery got up and walked over to Zariah's Table...

 

"What's got ya looking so down, Zar...we're a hit, things are progessing nicely, fountain thinks the worlds against him, and wyvern's still out cold...?

 

...

Edited June 8, 2005 by reverie