A request for acceptance...

[Bhurin]

Dear writers of the Pen.

 

Greetings, skillful artisans of lordly caliber, you see before you today a man seeking fellowship.

 

I was prompted to this place after much ado from a friend of mine, Foe Calibur, of whom I hear of endless praise of this establishment and the talents that reside therein.

 

Curiousity, finally, defeated me, and hence I am here. And, from initial impressions, I am greatly humbled and amazed by what I have seen and read within these pages.

 

So I come before thee in hope of acceptance to stand amoung these talents and receive their work and their opinions of my own.

 

However, no application would be complete without an interview of sorts. Where shall I begin???

 

I am a Canadian (for those interested in geology), while other personal information is normally reserved for friends known for a spell (which I truly hope will be the case.)

 

I've been writing for most of my life, most interested in poetry and prose of the lengthy sort (I normally write long stories that I hope will turn into novels). I've been playing archmage for about a year and a half, and have spent most of that presiding as the Diplomat of Foe's guild on server.

 

I have done various things and accomplished various accomplishments thus far in my life (which I shall not bore you with ), and generally wish to write for a living. It is my passion and my pleasure.

 

I am a member of the Order of the Quill of the Legion of the White Rose on Ager. Other than that, I'm just breaking into posting my stuff on line.

 

So, if you like long winded stories of the usual, borish type that go on and on about epic battles and struggles, all the while daring to reach into the minds of its characters and make them question the very fabric of their being, I'm your man. I also write Haikus. (In Japanese no less!)

 

Enclosed is a copy of one of my favorite poems. (It's a little long, though my initial statement was merely an idle threat).

 

It is entitled Fearsome Streets.

 

Fearsome Streets

 

As I stare into the dark,

Like a powerful monarch,

My eyes piercing, like a shark,

Scanning the endless evening gloom.

 

I pause for just a moment,

Not seeking an opponent,

Or to rustle what is dormant,

Deep within the haunting doom.

 

So then I look no deeper,

For I might just glance the Reaper,

And I don’t need some street sweeper,

To make off with my watch or cane.

 

So then I swallow, and I cough,

And with my footsteps extra soft,

I begin to quickly take off,

Back down the route I came.

 

But then I hear a sound,

And I quickly whirl around,

As my heart begins to pound,

And my breath is held in fright.

 

My eyes dart to walls and doors,

And with results same as before,

I see darkness, nothing more,

At this ungodly hour of the night.

 

So then I shake my head and laugh,

For I’ve dealt with worse riff-raff,

And now, ignoring the cold draft,

I continue on my way.

 

As I walk down the dark road,

Convinced I heard a cat or toad,

(All these thoughts a burdening load)

“This place must look better during the day.”

 

But then I hear the screech of Death,

I jump, then gasp, and hold my breath,

For it’s loud enough to wake Macbeth,

Like a tribe of screaming Apache.

 

Something flutters past my head,

And, when I realize that I’m not dead,

I look up, to see eyes of red,

“’Tis a mere bat, not a banshee.”

 

“Only a creature of the night,

Out on an evening lunar flight,

With a bark worse than is bite.”

I nod to myself, and smile.

 

But then it drops down from the sky,

Lands, and gives me an evil-eye,

As if it thought it were smarter than I,

And the thought makes my skin rile.

 

So I glance up, quick and brief,

It’s as still as a dead leaf,

And its gaze fills me with grief,

As if I were its prey.

 

“If so much interest to you I bring,

May I comment on just one thing?

Well, your voice was never meant to sing.

That’s all I wanted to say.”

 

But no retort do I receive.

No snake tongued words, meant to deceive,

But as I turn, about to leave,

I look up, and the bat is gone.

 

As fear begins to clutch my throat,

I quickly clasp and close my coat.

And plainly, as if said or wrote,

I knew something was terribly wrong.

 

I became exasperated,

At what seemed was planned and fated,

As if somehow it plainly stated,

That, “You are going to die.”

 

I began to hurry down the street,

As if something possessed my feet,

Starting to sweat from the cold heat,

“I only imagined it,” I lied.

 

My steps rapping against the stone,

And with the thought that I’m here, alone,

Chills me right down to the bone,

And shiver as I sweat.

 

Then I stop to calm my breathing,

My head is spinning, like I’m dreaming,

My heart pounds as I am seething,

“How much worse can all this get?”

 

My thoughts are swarming, like a riot.

I stop to listen, but it’s quiet.

All this silence, I don’t buy it,

My eyes narrow, and I frown.

 

I clutch my cane now, very tight,

Prepared to defend my self or fight,

For I’ll fear nothing more tonight!

Within this darkness I’ll not drown.

 

But suddenly I hear a howl,

That’s so wretched, and so foul,

That my face losses its scowl,

And I drop my cane, than flee.

 

As I run, I bite my lip,

My legs burn, as if they’ll rip.

But then I stumble, and I trip,

And I scrape my hands and knees.

 

As I slowly rise back to my feet,

My hands bleed as my heart beats,

But I will not accept defeat.

I brush myself off, and press on.

 

But my battered legs are sore,

And I cannot run a sole step more,

Because my skin has ripped and tore,

And the cuts run deep and long.

 

I rub the blood off, on my shirt,

But this presses in the dirt,

Causing my hands to throb and hurt.

The sight makes my head light.

 

Now I reach the long block’s end,

My scattered thoughts begin to mend;

For I find a trusted friend.

Lines of lamp lights, shining bright.

 

Now my heart begins to calm,

As I slowly walk, and clutch my palm.

“I must treat this with healing balm,”

My words are confident and strong.

 

But as I pass each dark, closed door,

(With none of them I’ve seen before)

I begin to wonder more and more,

If I could possibly be wrong.

 

I begin to scour for a sign,

That one of these winding streets are mine,

A simple street post would be fine,

I only long to get back home.

 

But then I hear a distant tapping,

That wakes my troubled mind from napping,

As if scampering feet were scampering,

Against the cold cobblestone.

 

Once again I gasp in fear,

As the sound draws close and near.

But without a single sob or tear,

I ignore it, and press on.

 

As fog rolls in, so thick and dense,

I swear I’d pay any pound or pence,

If only I could find my fence,

And gate, and house, and lawn.

 

Then, adding to my frightful toil,

I bump into something, and recoil.

But I find then it’s a stone gargoyle,

And that, in fact, its mine!

 

I suddenly begin to cheer,

So all the whole city could hear,

Because I lost my frights and fears,

And that suited me just fine.

 

And so I quickly rush inside,

Laughing for thinking I might have died.

I burst the front door open wide,

And standing there, is my wife.

 

“Where have you been? What did you do?

It’s almost a quarter and a half past two!

I was worried about what happened to you!”

Shrieked my greatest love in life.

 

“I got lost!” I almost cried,

“I feared for my life, I almost died!

I thought of you.” I quickly lied,

“And got blood on my good silk.”

 

“Oh my gosh honey! Oh no!

I should never have let you go.

But… there’s just one thing I’d like to know…

Where exactly, is the milk?”

 

- Cody Vigue

 

Well, I congratulate you if you made it through. I was particularly proud of the rhyme scheme (aaab cccb).

 

Well, that's that. I await your answer. Until then, however, I think I will take that open invitation, and peruse some of your boards.

 

Yours in request-

Bhurin

Order of the Quill (LotWR)

[Wyvern]

Having carefully looked over Bhurin's interview and excellent poetry, the Elder of Initiates smiles and decides that he would indeed be fit for membership... Quickly rising from his desk seat and turning to Bhurin, Wyvern holds the legionnaires application high in the air and happily exclaims:

 

"Bhurin, you're-"

 

The overgrown lizard is suddenly interrupted, however, as static arrises from the speakers of his office and the voice of Jechum immediatly rings through the room:

 

"Wyvern, get to the Tower of Elders immediatly! We want to yell at you some more..."

 

Wyvern sighs, placing Bhurin's application on his desk and grabbing his 'Complete Doctrines and Rules of the Pen" portfolio. Turning towards the anxious applicant, Wyv apologeticaly mutters "Sorry Bhurin... wait here just a second, I'll be right back..." He then curses and rushes off to the Tower of Elders via the main office exit, leaving Bhurin alone in the room...

 

"Oh well..." sighs Bhurin to himself. "I could use a brief moment of quiet time for reading anyway..."

 

No sooner has Bhurin said this then all the entrances to the office are kicked open simultaneously and the confused applicant is suddenly surrounded by SWAT team members wearing gasmasks and brandishing M16 machine guns. His mouth drops open as a police helicopter outside the window shines a blinding spotlight on him, and several more SWAT agents jump into the room by means of bungee cords and an opening in the roof.

 

"FREEEZE!" yell the SWAT members at the top of their lungs, pointing their weapons at Bhurin and making their best angry faces.

 

"What the hell...?" whispers Bhurin meekly, desperatly seeking some kind of explanation for this hectic event. As if to answer his questions, a section of the circle surrounding him is suddenly split open as a man in a grey coat and hat with a cigarette hanging loosly from his mouth walks through the crowd and heads up to him.

 

"So Mr. Wyvern..." mutters the man hoarsly "...thought you'd give us the slip again, eh?! Well, I'm sorry to say that your scheming days have come to an end..."

 

With that, the man takes out a badge and holds it out in front of him.

 

"I. M. Clueless, Private Eye... We're here to take you in for your continous failures to pay tax revenues, along with several bank frauds we have under your name..."

 

The detective then smiles and blows a ring of smoke in Bhurin's face...

 

"And as you can see, there's no escaping us this time..."

 

Upon hearing this, Bhurin laughs and nervously exclaims:

 

"There must be some kind of mistake! I'm not Elder Wyvern! I'm just an applicant who's-"

 

"Suuuuuuuurrrrrreee..." interupts I. M. Clueless "Why don't you tell us all about it downtown? Get'em boys..."

 

"Hey... wait!" yells Bhurin angrily as the SWAT members shove him into a black Sedan "I have my rights!"

 

I. M Clueless and the SWAT team then evacuate the premisis, speeding off in their massively powerfull vehicle. Elder Wyvern arrives back in his office the moment after they've left... Noticing that Bhurin is no longer in the room, he frowns and mutters "Yeesh... some applicants are so impatient..."

 

Later, in a dark room lit by a single lamp somewhere dowtown...

 

I. M. Clueless looks Bhurin in the eye and shines a single light in his face... He then growls:

 

"Listen, Mr. Wyvern... We can do this the easy way or the hard way... Tell us what your fraud bank account names are, or at least admit to us that ARE Wyvern!"

 

Bhurin sighs deeply and rubs his forehead. "Look... I already told you... I'm not Wyvern..."

 

"Fine then, we'll do this the hard way. Boys, strap our friend Mr. Wyvern to the lie detector..."

 

Bhurin is suddenly held back as several SWAT agents tie him back to his chair and strap numerous electronic devices on him.

 

"Here's how the game works..." begins I. M. Clueless "...I'll ask you a question and you'll respond with a 'yes' or 'no' answer. Should you by any chance choose to lie, you will recieve an electric shock from the lie detector apparatus, which can detect these things... Understood?"

 

Bhurin nods.

 

"Very well, first question: is your name Wyvern?"

 

"No."

 

I. M. Clueless waits for the electric surge, but is shocked when none occurs.

 

"... Boys... make sure that all the circuits of the lie detector are on go and that everything is plugged in..."

 

The SWAT members do this, and I. M. Clueless rephrases his question. Bhurin responds in the same way, and there is still no electrical shock.

 

"Dammit...! yells I. M. Clueless "The machine must be broke! Call the mechanic!"

 

Bhurin slaps his forehead, marveling at the stupidity shown by central intelligence...

 

Several, several hours later...

 

After having toggled with the lie detector, making sure it was functioning properly, and eventually purchasing a totally new model and testing it to no avail, I. M. Clueless is left sobbing at his desk.

 

"I don't understand! *sob* I was sure I had Wyvern... *sob*"

 

"Awwww... that's O.K." mutters Bhurin, hating to see a grown man cry and trying to comfort the poor detective "I'm sure you'll catch Wyvern eventually..."

 

"R-really...?" murmers I. M. Clueless, drying his tears "You think so...?"

 

"Sure." lies Bhurin, secretly snickering to himself at the thought of this wacko detective actually tryng to capture Wyv...

 

The SWAT members then procede to escort Bhurin back to the halls of the Pen is Mightier then the Sword, each personally apologizing to the rather peeved applicant. As soon as Bhurin enters Wyvern's office again, the Elder of Initiates stands up and exclaims:

 

"Ah, Bhurin! I was afraid you might have left from becoming impatient... Your application is accepted!"

 

OOC: Excellent application Bhurin, accepted. Your poem was very engaging, and I hardly noticed its length before I had finished it. I particularly liked the rhyming scheme (which was reminiscent of Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven", and fit the mood of the poem perfectly) and the humorous ending. I look forward to reading lots more of your stuff in the future, welcome to the Pen.

 

 

 

[image]http://www.legion-whiterose.com/signatures/aoa/wyv.gif[/image]

 

------------------------------

Almost a Dragon...

"My life is one big crime, I try to scheme through it." -Common, "The 6th Sense"

 

Owner of the Decanter of Endless Booze.

[Bhurin]

As the echoes of the uproar faded and died into the walls of the room, and the cheers finally rested in the throats of the audience, the world seemed to slow for a moment. Seconds began to pass almost agonizingly so, as the elders of the Pen observed the reaction of Bhurin.

 

Bhurin, winged writer of Terra, stood bewildered affront them all, his head tilted down and gazing blankly at the acceptance form.

 

“I… I don’t know what to say…” the angel-like like creature said, his voice straining not to crack. “Um… I… Yeah…”

 

The crowd smiled at Bhurin’s obvious awkwardness. Indeed it was rare to catch him speechless, and here, having known him only a short time, had accomplished the infrequent task.

 

“Come on Bhurin,” Wyvern said, “Don’t tell us you’ve tapped that hefty reservoir of words you boasted of”.

 

Bhurin smiled knowingly, nodding his head at Wyvern’s remark. “Aye, friend, an everlasting supply I claim to have. But sometimes -and I cannot believe I’m saying this to fellow writers- words can taint a situation.”

 

Bhurin strode over to them, eager to meet his new associates, and hopefully future friends. “It is good to meet you all. May we come to know one another better through verse or through contact. I think this is the beginning of a glorious relationship…”

 

Signed-

Bhurin

Order of the Quill

(What shall I sign here now? What title? What position? What rank?) J

 

Supporter of MIRACLE "Click the Banners!"

[Peredhil]

Peredhil wanders in and licks a gold star with the word Initiate written on it with a Sharpie pen and sticks it on to Bhurin's chest.

 

Welcome! You'll need to send me an email address so you can get passwords and such. he says laconically and wanders away to update his lists.

 

Elrond Peredhil, 31

Elder of Lists and Manners

(peredhil31@hotmail.com)

[Zadown]

(OOC: Hi Bhurin and welcome to the Pen - it is a pleasure to see you here! )

[Gyrfalcon]

Greetings, Bhurin!

 

Congrats on joining, and I liked your poem. =)

[Bhurin]

As Bhurin removes the razor sharp pin from his mighty pectoral muscle, he smiles casually at his greeters.

 

"Thanks Peredhil, I... Appreciate that. My email is

 

archlords@hotmail.com

 

I'll be happy to send you a letter if necessary".

 

Bhurin turns to Zadown, an old face amoung new ones.

 

"Zadown, good to see you. Glad to see your still around (though I guess you've been more than I have). I'm really looking forward to reading yours and everyone else's material. This is a most convenient and interesting guild. Let me know if there are any 'initiations' I need to know about."

 

- Bhurin

Order of the Quill

Initiate of the Pen

Supporter of MIRACLE "Click the Banners!"

[Peredhil]

Peredhil wonders from where the pin came, as he uses sticky stars.

 

Suspecting a practical joke, he looks for Wyvern, the Squirrel Duo, and Doctor Evil, in that order.

 

With a shrug in turns to Bhurin.

 

Thank you for the contact information, I appreciate the timely response.

 

And I'm truly sorry if I injured you! That would be Rude and therefore I'm disconsolate.

 

Respectfully (and hastily),

 

Peredhil