The Almost Report Always Gnomes Best

[Wyvern]

The news camera lenses flash on and nearly have a collision with the top of a low-hanging doorway as they make their way into Asmadeus’ gnomish Pen alcove. The scattered high-tech tools and clutter of half-finished labor-bots give the cramped quarters an atmosphere that compulsive knob-twisters would find comforting. The cameras circle by an extremely complicated piece of machinery that seems to generate screws on a miniature conveyer belt, catching a lense full of steam as it spews heat. They jerk around for a moment to regain their bearings and slowly focus on Wyvern as the steam cloud clears. The neon multi-colors of the overgrown lizard's scales have mostly faded, replaced by an odd mixture of crimson red and yellowish orange highlights. Wyvern adjusts a set of fake goggles in an awkward position on his snout, then adjusts the grease rag tucked in his shirt collar and grins towards the cameras with bravado. He opens his mouth to speak, only to bump his head on the low ceiling of the chamber, triggering a hissed string of curses. The reptilian reporter rubs his head after a minute and composes himself, clearing his throat of a few ashes as he faces the cameras.

 

“*Ahehem* Greetingsss, and welcome to this week’s Almost Report. Join us as we scout Asmadeus’ quarters for an exclusive look at how toys are manufactured gnomish style... jussst in time for the most consumerist holiday of the year.” Wyvern winks towards the cameras, then lifts his fake goggles and turns towards the screw machine. “I’ll be reporting the newsss while our faithful camera crew gives you a visual tour of the toy-making process, right here in these lovely quarters.”

 

Wyvern strikes a claws-up as another wave of steam passes over the news crew, obscuring the visuals for a moment. Once the steam has cleared, the cameras jerk over to Wyvern’s position next to a machine that twists the screws into small round metal bodies with a set of mechanical arms.

 

“In today’s news, the thirty-seventh installment of the infamous Werewolf ssseries has now begun.” Wyvern turns his head and bumps it on the ceiling again, cursing to himself. “This installment, entitled ‘'Toys R Wolves', is particularly appropriate for the season of last minute shopping and possst-sell-out stress syndrome. A sign up thread for the collaborative effort is also available in the Conservatory, so howl atcha boyz.”

 

The cameras follow Wyvern as he nods and moves further down the mechanical construction line, pausing as he arrives at a hunching machine that twists caps onto the top of the rotund bodies of the toys. The cameras zoom in on the caps for a moment, revealing a tiny skull-and-crossbones tagged on each one.

 

“A news reminder for thossse who haven’t been following recent Pen events and activities.” Wyvern grunts as his horns scrape against the ceiling, making a sound akin to nails on a chalkboard. “The Pen Confection Tasting Convention is available for anyone who wants to make an Xmas treat based on another pennite, Patrick is still looking for more information concerning a bundle of mysterious feathers, and of courssse the ‘I <3 Wyvern Club’ is forever accepting geld-endowed members to its ranks. And for those who can’t find the time to participate in events, there’s a free EP of music chosen by pennites to relax to and a life question to consider in the Cabaret. All of which adds up to plenty of happeningsss this Winter.”

 

Wyvern ducks his head and continues to follow the toy conveyer belt, passing a section where each toy is strapped in an additional layer of armor and sprayed with green paint. The overgrown lizard moves straight to the end of the belt, where the small green balls with skull-and-crossbones caps are lifted by a mini-crane and placed into open wooden boxes. The cameras zoom in on the address listed on the crates, which reads “Shipping to Deathknell, Everquest.”

 

“The Almost Report would alssso like to take a moment to thank Patrick for another smooth host enchantment incantation.” Wyvern lifts his head in the hopes of grinning towards the cameras, but embeds his horns in Asmadeus’ ceiling before he can so much as crack a smirk. The reptilian Elder frowns and attempts to budge, only to find himself stuck. “*Grrrr* We hope that *grunt* pennites enjoy the Pen’s new *hrrrrk* hossst space. Pleassse feel free to *urhk* PM Patrick or any other Elder if *huurrrr* you find any bugs.”

 

With a frustrated sigh, Wyvern slunches his shoulders and gives up trying to move his horns. He twists his tail and starts keeping an eye out for CheerMynx, silently praying for a helping hand (amongst other things).

[CheerMynx]

A familiar giggle behind Wyvern caused him to jump in surprise, wedging his horns deeper into the ceiling.

The cameras swung around in search of the owner of the voice, centering on CheerMynx's cleavage as she bounded (well, as much as one could with a short ceiling) into view.

"Hiiiiiiiiiiii!" the cheerline giggled again. She was dressed today in one of her cheerleading outfits, except this one seemed to have had a couple of inches trimmed off the skirt, the neckline, the midriff, etc., until the outfit looked like it was only held together by two strategic seamlines. It was a wonder of physics that the outfit stayed on, to be quite honest. The outfit also looked as if it had been dipped in pure gold.

"What do you all think?" CheerMynx gave a twirl, the skirt flaring up and leaving nothing to the imagination. By this point it was somewhat fortuitous that Wyvern was stuck in the ceiling, if his glazed expression was one to judge.

"You are totally looking at the results of my newly instated CheerMynx Almost Intern Fashion Fund. Isn't it totally rockin?" Snuffles sat on her shoulder, a mini gold pompom attached to his tail. He did not seem nearly as excited as his mistress was by the 'results'.

"Ch-CheerMynx," Wyvern swallowed. "You uh...kept it to the 4%...right?" The Almost Dragon was having a hard time deciding whether he would care if his Intern had stayed under budget, given her midas touched appearance.

"Gawd, Wyvie, like, have a bit of faith," CheerMynx rolled her eyes goodnaturedly, before returning to the camera.

"Anyway, I totally hope you guys all like the upgrades that have been going on here lately. Feel free to send me any fan mail or early Christmas presents if you really want." The cheerline giggled and winked.

"So, this week I TOTALLY want to encourage you all to join in on some of our activities! The wolf games are totally fun and who like, doesn't like free candy? Unless of course you're Cindy Palmer, who totally got kicked off the squad after she ate our fundraising chocolate. I mean come ON she ate all the potential money and now totally can't even fit into her outfit how blonde can you be?"

Prattling on, CheerMynx wasn't even looking as she sat down on the moving conveyer. However once she noticed it was moving, instead of simply standing back up again, the cheerline panicked.

"Eeeek! Wyvie!" CheerMynx clutched at Wyvern as she moved by his prone form. The sudden, twisted momentum of her grasp on the Almost Dragon succeeded in freeing his horns from the ceiling...and bringing some of it down with him.

There was a chorus of screams, yelps, and crashes, before a stray piece of timber landed on the camera, the screens going black to the sound of an expensive crash.

[Wyvern]

A webbed hand brushes the rubble from a sturdy lens and focuses the camera on two troglyodytes who dig up Wyvern from a pile of ceiling debris. Wyvern's eyes flick open in a fixed stare of glee as a piece of rock is moved from his snout, his brain still oblivious to the ceiling caving in as CheerMynx's tight grip and skimpy attire race through his mind. The overgrown lizard gyrates up to his feet like a hypnotized cobra, his scales still tingling from the feel of CheerMynx's midriff fur and his tongue drooping from his mouth and trailing drool on Asmadeus' already messy floor. Wyvern stares up at where the ceiling would be and lets out a happy sigh that could be considered a borderline squeal, rubbing his claws over his scales and dribbling pebbles in the process. If the lizard hadn’t already been avoiding water, he might have considered never bathing again after this particular incident.

 

"Uhhm, Wyvern sir?" A troglyodyte attempts to wave a hand in front of Wyvern's face. He frowns at the lack of reaction and turns towards the other troglyodyte that had dug Wyvern up. "He's not responding. You better get the stretcher..."

 

"Eh?" Wyvern stares down at the troglyodyte and scratches one of his horns, suddenly noticing the ceiling fragments scattered over the floor. “Oh, errr. I’m alright… I guessss?”

 

Wyvern raises a claw to his chin and frowns as he overlooks the ceiling damages, only to go still when he notices that CheerMynx is nowhere to be found. A hint of fear and panic seeps into the reptilian reporter’s eyes as he frantically scans the debris for any signs of the cheerline.

 

“Hey, hasss anyone seen-?” The worried tone of Wyvern’s voice suddenly dissipates as he spots a hint of shining gold fabric peeking out from one of the crates of gnome “toys.” Wyvern cracks a grin and breaths a sigh of relief as he remembers that cat’s usually land on their feet. His sigh turns into an excited rasp, however, as he notices that the gold fabric is the back of CheerMynx’s mini-skirt and that it’s tilting up as she lifts herse-

 

“Wyvern, sir?”

 

Wyvern turns his head towards a troglyodyte who wears glasses and carries a pencil in his mouth. The troglyodyte hands Wyvern a long sheet of paper indicating the cost and expenses of Asmadeus’ ceiling collapse, along with the equally unsettling 4% withdrawal from his news budget.

 

“Hrrrmmm…" Wyvern twitches his snout. "Asmadeus is a fix-it type, so we’re gonna skip the ceiling costs unless he presses chargesss…”

 

Wyvern’s eyes dart back towards CheerMynx’s crate, only to find that she’s back on her feet and that his peeping opportunity had long passed. The overgrown lizard grumbles to himself, then brushes a few pebbles from the expenses sheet and slowly wanders up to CheerMynx.

 

“*Eherm* Dynamite show, CheerMynxie.” Wyvern fiddles with his tail stinger and stares down at the ground, trying to focus on finances and not wanting to be distracted by the two piece uniform again. “Uuuhhhh, l-lisssten. I was thinking about the Almost Intern Fashion Fund and our b-budget, y’know? And I thought it might be a good idea, just temporarily, to maybe redu-”

 

“Oh the Fashion Fund’s working soooooo well!” CheerMynx flashes a cheerful grin and kneels over in the hopes of making eye contact with Wyvern, despite her blindness. “I mean, I totally thought of you when I picked this color. You like it right?”

 

“Y-y-yeah.” Wyvern tries to stare even lower at the ground and begins fiddling with his stinger more, blushing a bit. His eyes trail upward in spite of themselves, staring straight into CheerMynx’s breast line by accident. One of his claws moves up instinctively to grab the cheerline's gold top, but he clutches it with his other claw before any wrong moves are made. He looks up at CheerMynx's face with a whimper. “Errr, y’y’know, I totally forgot what I was gonna say. Ahahaha! Yep. Jussst uhh, keep up the good work.”

 

With that, Wyvern turns and wanders off with his expenses sheet in hand, cursing to himself over his lack of backbone. The overgrown lizard stares at the expenses and sighs, then decides to do something more productive with his time and wanders off in search of archive footage of the report. He rubs his claws together at the thought of viewing the results of CheerMynx's skirt twirl from a different angle, having had a rather lackluster view of the incident from his position attached to ceiling…