About the disappearance of the guilds

[Patrick]

It had been a wonderful winter morning in the garden for Gwaihir, checking that the plants were well protected for the winter. His hands had not amassed as much dirt as usual, the ground being partly frozen. It was the first really cold day at the Pen Keep, and the elf had wanted to make sure that his beloved friends had everything they needed to weather the chill season. On his way back from the gardens he passed by the guild areas, the door to which was, to his surprise, closed. The only indication of why the door, which usually was left open was not so, was a white piece of paper nailed to the door.

 

 

Once inside the Cabaret Room, Gwaihir was just about to ask what had happened, but Patham was already addressing the crowd of Pennites assembled around the fireplace, in which the fire crackled merrily.

 

"My dear Pennites and visitors who have come from distant lands! As some of you may already have noticed, access to the guild areas is currently restricted. Only those whom we all respect, our Elders and Ancients, and us, the Guild Leaders are currently permitted to visit those areas, as we are making big changes to them. I'd like to stress that all this is not to ban you from what you can obtain in those areas, if you need anything, just let one of us know and we shall fetch it for you."

 

"We have heard the grumbles and complaints about the guilds in recent and not so recent months and we took all these suggestions to heart and once the guilds reopen, they shall be far from their current form. I know that some of you may already start being concerned about restricted materials in the guild areas that you own, becoming public, but please believe me when I tell you that we shall apply the utmost care in selecting what shall be transferred from the old guild areas to the new ones. We shall quite probably contact all of you to ask where you wish your possessions to be."

 

Whispers and talk were already spreading in the crowd and Patham knew that he would have to finish fast.

 

"We shall be here during the whole process, ready to listen to you. If you have anything to tell us, or any suggestions to make, please do so. It is our objective to make the guilds more member-friendly and to step out from what many perceived as our seclusion and separation from the rest of the Pen. Now, does anyone have any questions?"

 

OOC: Thanks to Gwai for allowing me to borrow Gwaihir for this!

 

And now for a bit of OOC explanation. Guild forums have been made readable only by Guild Leader, Ancients and Elders so that we can hammer out details without fear of the public knowing of our mess-ups. tongue.gif However if you have writings in there that you desperately need while the forums are invisible just shout and we'll grab it for you. We also know that several people have works in there that they don't wish to be made public for all the Pen to see, so we shall be careful about this.

 

As to the why of the changes. Let's face the fact: the guilds in their current form were basically dead. Changes were needed and asked for. They shall come. We Guild Leaders already have a pretty detailed plan and shall be hammering out the details during the coming days, but we're of course still open to suggestions.

[Wyvern]

Wyvern clatters and clangs his way into the Cabaret Room, waving around what appears to be a rusted bronze amulet stuck on the wider half of his tail. Proposal paperwork flutters through the air as the lizard slinks towards the fireplace, detaching itself from its spot on his stinger like the ghost of CCGs and Greek Myth Gods past. The overgrown lizard butts his way into the center of a large seat next to the fire, uncertain if the two figures he's scrunching himself between are real or mannequins. He stares into the fire with forlorn eyes that seem to moan "pennite withdrawal," reaching into his pockets and tossing out several tangled weeds and chains to feed the flickering flames.

 

"Hmph. Rummaged through those Temporary Dumps, and not a black market-worthy trinket to be found. Only trash I dug up were those weeds... and whatever it was that was attached to my tail, I guess." Wyvern snorts quietly, then spits a bit of ash into the hypnotic licks of fire. "Are ya planning on making it an official Dumping site? Didn't get a chance to test out my Almost Dragonic Brand Trashy-o-meter™."

 

Patrick frowns at Wyvern's slightly drunken slur and double-frowns at the thought of the lizard going through Alliance remnants with almost dragonic marketing in mind. He steps forward, only to pause as Wyvern holds up a blank piece of paper taken from the Devil's Advocate.

 

"Got my trash-digger/mold-miner credentials right *hic* here." Wyvern manages to wave the blank sheet once before dropping it with a retch. The overgrown lizard sniffles a little, than coills his tail around his right leg in an asp-like manner and cocks his head back on the headrest of the seat. "Maybe I should just turn the nob of the Trashy-o-meter from 'Trashiest' to 'Trashier,' that helped when searching those Troll dumps in my 're-sell their discarded human bones as chewables' campaign.' Ah, those were the daysss."

 

Wyvern stares up at the Cabaret ceiling in silence, ignoring the inevitable cramp in his neck. The Trashy-o-meter blows a fuse in the background, causing the mannequin on Wyvern's left to topple over. It lands in an odd spread on the Cabaret floor, like a hollow fur-less rug immune to the fire's glow...

[reverie]

Decoy aka THE-MIGHTY-LAWN-DART! observes the scene between the almost Dragonic-one and the boy from a distance. Flames flickering across his face reveal a brief expression of mild puzzlement that resolves itself into a frown.

 

Walking out of the Cabaret Room, he makes his way through the many halls of the pen arriving at the hollowed arch that marks the entrance to the Passageway. Taking out his tarnished and graying amulet etched with Castle at sunrise set atop a bank of clouds, remembering that wider and often times more volatile magics are at work in this part of the pen. Still the token of the dreamlost should assure his him safe-passage across the threshold. Holding the symbol out in front of him, he crosses the lightly cast veil of pen-boundary-magic arriving in a large, but narrow chamber leading to two large doors--one crimson and ornate the other plain and unadorned. Choosing the plainer of the two he walks into the Workshop searching for his master among the vast, but seldomly used sections of pennite potenial.

 

Decoy finds him in the chestnut room--the section set aside for poetic forms and power tools--agonizing over the adjustments of a jigsaw-puzzle-vice--at a loss to find the precise mechanically correct positional relationship between the piece of work and the tool.

 

"Blast, French forms are like a spiders web, you cut the wrong thread and whole structure falls limp."

 

Decoy coughs quietly, and Revery the dreamlost raises an eye, "Oh was there something, Decoy?"

 

"Yes, my lord, I believe there is something of mild concern in the Caboret Room," thus spake THE-MIGHTY-LAWN-DART!

 

"Mild Concern, oh then have Quest or Fountain take care of it, I've been working on the Pantoum for days now, and I feel I've almost got it..." Revery pauses as he see's the expression on THE-MIGHTY-LAWN-DART's face, "...oh what is it then?"

 

Decoy quickly relays all that he's seen concerning the notice from the guilds and the almost-dragonlic-one.

 

Revery thinks for a moment, then sighing, turns and goes back to considering the jig--ackwardly bent, and alternately covering one eye and chewing on his lower lip. "Spiderwebs," he mutters. "...pull the wrong thread and the whole thing falls limp..."

 

His work done, THE-MIGHTY-LAWN-DART! withdraws, allowing the dreamlost to get back to his labors. Existing the Writers' Workshop and he returns to the threshold between the narrow chamber and Passageway and once again pulls out the amulet of the dreamlost, and returns unharmed into the greater pen proper to be the see what can be seen for all of the realm of the dreamlost.

 

--Decoy aka "THE-MIGHTY-LAWN-DART!!!"

Edited January 27, 2007 by reverie

[Patrick]

Totally OOC reply, sorry for not following the IC trend of the topic.

 

This transition is taking way much longer than planned. Real life seems to be having a busy period for each and every GL (me included). I promise we'll try to get all this done as soon as possible, while being unable to propose any timeline. If there are any posts/topics you desperately need in the meantime...send me a PM and I'll look into it.

 

Sorry for any inconveniance caused by the overly long transition.

[Quincunx]

Rydia was lying on the grass on a nicely sloped hill, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. Of course, it was still winter, so she was well-wrapped in green fuzzy knitted accessories, and only her nose was getting sunned. It was nice to have zero bugs around in the chill, though. . .until something loomed and threw a shadow over her nose. One ear curled into a ? while she pulled up her elbows and looked towards the sun. A rosebush was still rapidly growing right next to her, but slowing down; it became more puzzling after it finished growing, for then it shimmered and transformed to a pruned root-stock, instead of the flexible green stems it had been while growing. The air near the root-stock trembled again, and a little note materialized, tied to the rosebush by twine:

 

Spacing out the roses in the garden--please do not remove this tag--Alliance of Vanguards and Vagabonds.

 

The elf flicked her ears in puzzlement and snagged one fuzzy knitted ear warmer on a dry thorn. Her ears leaned together and worked it loose while she pulled up her knees and sat up fully. Once she was free, she went around to the other side of the rosebush and once again lay down in the feeble winter sunshine.

[Katzaniel]

Crack! Groooooan, creeeeeak.... bang!

 

With a loud flourish, the guilds began to rumble and shake. The buildings housing the Articulate Artisans of Alliteration, the Alliance of Vagabonds and Vanguards, and the StoryWeaver's Guild, all sunk Figaro-Castle-style, into the dirt. People (and mammals of all types) rushed away to avoid being pulled in with them. All went quiet for a few moments (translation: nearly two months ) and then suddenly, on the other side of the Keep, the rumbling resumed. Crowds began to form around the re-emerging guilds. They watched as familiar parts of the SWG reformed beside the Assembly room and Critic's Corner: The Scribbler's Cafe, a little larger and somewhat more worn, and a much, much smaller Room of Fiery Hearth, still barred to the public but with a little note on the door, reading "Cramped in here. Plz use Assembly room if possible. Mngmnt" They watched, too, as the Portals and the Catacombs rose into place beside the Conservatory and the Greenroom. And then they stood for a moment, waiting for the AAA to come back... but it did not.

 

Pennites began looking at each other, waiting, wondering, but nothing more happened.

[Patrick]

OOC: About the current AVV layout. You'll notice that it's not exactly as the one mentioned in character. There are two temporary forums. The temporary RP and OOC forums contain the threads, which shall later be moved to either the Conservatory or Courtyard/Under the Oak Tree. You have one month to decide where a thread should go. Currently the temporary forums are visible to QB upwards.

 

I'll whip up a list of the threads in a seperate thread so that people can decide where they want their RPs to go.

 

Edit: here it is: http://www.patrickdurham.net/themightypen/index.php?showtopic=15337

 

About the AAA: they have gone underground and shall stay thus for some time.