Guest ntraveler2 Posted August 20, 2002 Report Posted August 20, 2002 I, ntraveler2, have already submitted a little work from the humble depths of my own brain in the Conservatory, "Redemption: A Demon's Search for Meaning". It is a project that is not yet finished, and I do intend to add a lot to it (the story's just started!!) and polish it quite a bit, I'll submit it as a piece of work worth mentioning. I might add some supplementary RPing threads from my past career if I can find it... I've come here to avoid the slow death of the AMBB.
Guest ntraveler2 Posted August 20, 2002 Report Posted August 20, 2002 and here's a little piece of my RPing... arch17.magewar.com/ubb/Fo...00521.html -posted by ntraveler2, scholar/storyteller, the Voice of the Prophets, and renegade from the dying AMBBEdited by: ntraveler2 at: 8/20/02 5:26:44 pm
Guest ntraveler2 Posted August 21, 2002 Report Posted August 21, 2002 contact me at: woof_is_hot@hotmail.com yes, yes, I know I shouldn't be using Microsoft's stuff, and I'm very very ashamed of myself but hey. I don't use MSN for my real, real formal emails. I dream of the day Microsoft shall be broken into a million pieces. -posted by ntraveler2, scholar/storyteller, the Voice of the Prophets, and renegade from the dying AMBB
Canid Posted August 21, 2002 Report Posted August 21, 2002 As long as your not giving them any money for using hotmail, why not use Microsoft?
Guest ntraveler2 Posted August 23, 2002 Report Posted August 23, 2002 Application Story -------------------------------------------------------- Comments will be greatly appreciated, but please remember this is not an interactive story like Improv Thread. But I will welcome suggestions/comments. Grab a chair, refreshments are in the back of the room, bathrooms are along the hallway to your left. Be quiet when you leave the room. I will post this in little chunks. Soooooo... *ahem* ==================================== Redemption: A Demon's Search For Meaning ==================================== Chapter 1. The Spawning Several figures wearing black robes of silk stood by the edge of the great pit made of obsidian. Some of them sat on the edge of the pit, talking idly about nothing in particular. Others, obviously the studious types, were hunched up against the wall, poring tattered old tomes of dark lore. They all looked tense and nervous. They all jumped a little at the sound of a deep voice that boomed across the great room housing the pit. "The time has come, my students. I hope you are all ready?" They murmured a faint reply. The man who had stepped in was dressed like the others, but his robe was different. It was embroidered with silver runes that slowly shifted around so that they almost looked like insects. He laughed coldly. "Ach, I see you are all nervous. Perhaps from lack of study, yes?" No reply. Wasn't it obvious? More than 10% of their grades would rely on this final project! Who would not be nervous, considering the fact that they would be graded individually? The man gestured to his students, indicating that they should take up their positions. A student timidly raised his hand. "What is it?" "Master Mordikas, can we review what we will be doing one more time?" Mordikas, Lord of Red Terror, sneered. The only way to get apprentices to do anything properly was to grade them on it. This was actually a project of his own, to create a weapon powerful enough to counter the advantage the forces of light had over his own armies. "Snid, I have repeated this many more times than there are teeth in a Blood Manticore. What is the matter with you? Do you never pay attention? Perhaps I should penalize you on this...that will be a deduction of ten participation points." Gasps could be heard through the little crowd huddled around the pit. Snid gulped. "I will explain it one last time. We will utilize the advanced necromantic magic you will hopefully have learned to make a pig evolve into a demon. We will gather our mana by taking human life force, and then we will shape it around the astral image of the pig. That will trigger the evolution of the pig. The final stages, which is the bestowing of magic powers on the demon, is too difficult for young idiots like yourselves to attempt. I will do that myself, so watch carefully while I do it. You might even...learn something." The students and their instructor all stood in a circle around the pit. The Ritual was about to begin. Mordikas snapped his fingers and a group of slaves brought a pig, powdered black pearl, some black diamonds, a twig of cherry wood, and the beating heart of a dragon preserved in a tank of water. Mordikas began chanting, and after a few moments his apprentices followed. They each took a black diamond and held it over the pit. They then blasted the diamonds to pieces with magic and threw them into the pit. The pit smoked and stank, emitting clouds of multicolored vapor. Mordikas grabbed a handful of powdered black pearl and sprinkled it over the pit, calling upon the powers of the higher entities of evil. The students followed suit. This time, brilliant red sparks flew out of the pit, forming fantastic shapes in the air. The evil light reflected off the stone carvings on the walls of the hall and the pit, and the shadows seemed to breathe and come to life. Now for the next stage of the spell. The Lord of Red Terror gestured to the slaves to come forward. His hand flew out to the nearest slave and held him by the neck above the pit. A supernatural force seemed to flow through his arms, causing his blood veins to glow with an evil green light, as he strangled the slave. He screamed and fell into the pit, but he burst into ashes before he reached the bottom. The apprentices each grabbed a slave and did the same. The screams of the hapless slaves echoed through the halls as the dancing shadows leered and jumped around the walls. A sense of evil energy surged through the room, fooling the human senses and momentarily blinding the spellcasters. Mordikas then reached for the pig. He held it over his head, and the apprenctices raised their chanting voices. The pig squealed with fear as it saw its own skin begin to rip apart. Mordikas threw it into the pit. He raised his right hand, and the apprentices stopped chanting. This final stage was to be performed by Mordikas himself. He made a dismissive gesture and the apprentices broke the circle. They stood behind their teacher and watched carefully as he continued the spell by himself. Some of them took out notepads and started taking notes. Mordikas continued chanting at a furious pace, with sweat dripping down his black hair. He gritted his teeth against the effects of too much mana flowing through his body, and he gave the mana a last twist and turn with a backhand effect he had learned from one of his own teachers. This would provide the right spark to pierce the dimensional barrier. A sizzling and crackling sound could be heard as the air above the pit separated. A giant hole formed above the pit. Flashes of green lightning and blue fire flying through dark clouds could be seen faintly. This was the realm of the Demonkind. The mangled body of the pig, still thrashing, slowly levitated and flew into the hole. The hole closed partially until it was a great slitted eye above the pit, staring at Mordikas with open hunger. Mordkas ignored it and desperately hoped he wouldn't lose control now. He raised his hands and roared out the final words. A series of explosions rocked the entire hall, and the pit disappeared out of sight behind billowing clouds of vapor. Mordikas breathed hard and massaged his aching arms as he stared into the vapor. Was it successful? He was rewarded by the faint sound of a piglet squealing at the top of its lungs. He rushed in and reached for it. He took out a baby bottle and placed it into the mouth of the newly born pig. He might have looked rather motherly if the bottle weren't filled with blood. The students all looked at the piglet with awe. It did look like an ordinary piglet, except for the bluish black skin and glowing red eyes, but it radiated an aura of magic. Mordikas chuckled. "Ah, drink well, my little pig. Soon you will grow to become one of the most powerful demons of all. Soon you will turn the tide against my enemies." The flickering shadows continued their dance, laughing silently. ==================================== Redemption: A Demon's Search For Meaning ==================================== Chapter 2. Rise of the Lord of Darkness The sun loomed above the prone figures on the battlefield. Mangled, burned, mutilated bodies, covered with congealed blood and scorched flesh, lay on the ground by the thousands. A few bodies of slain undead also lay among the human bodies, but not many of them were seen. A gigantic figure appeared from somewhere on the battlefield. He was eight feet tall, a man with the head of a boar, with dark blue skin and burning red eyes. He carried a six foot sword of black steel and wore a suit of chain mail made of the same black steel. This was Koj, the newly born Lord of the Tides, and he now stood trumphiant in victory. He stood still for a while, drinking in the dying light of the sun. The sunlight gradually flickered and died out. Koj savored the first rays of the moon. To the minions of the dark, moonlight was like mother's milk. He sighed and turned around to face his vast armies. Skeletons, half rotting bodies clumped together with forbidden magic, mummies, and even vampires and liches waited obediently for his command. Their swords and spears reflected the moonlight to create a grotesque, silent symphony of pale light. Koj smirked to himself. He had just won a great victory over the hapless forces of light. The recent memory of the battle brought him great satisfaction. He had skillfully used his own magic to slay the aerial forces of the enemy, which were bane to all darkness. Archangels, thousands of them with their bright swords, had swooped down to target his elite lich forces. They had taken the bait, and were completely open to his own magic. The enemy simply had not expected the general of the army to wield such magic. It was exactly the kind of folly that could be exploited. Thanks to such folly on the enemy's part, he now commanded a newly formed aerial force made of Corrupt Archangels. They were seduced by his powerful Spell of Corruption and were brought down. He barked a command to his armies and they marched forward, deeper into enemy territory. They were eager for battle. Koj did not see the elf look at him sadly and shake her head. 'Great one, with such great power, why do you choose to spread such bloodshed? You will eventually lose your balance with your own victories.' No alarm sounded on the walls of the Fortress of Silver. Herman, one of the Lord Paladins who defended and upheld the sacred light, did not suspect such a move. He had expected his powerful force of archangels to slaughter the dark tides. Archangels were all you needed to get rid of necromantic armies, he thought. It was a fatal thought which would exact its own price. He did not know that the sacred light that he wielded was puny and insignificant compared to the dark flames of his enemy. The first sounds of death reached his ears soon after he had retired to his bedchamber. He leapt out of bed and hurriedly put on his armor. He grabbed his sword and shield and ran out of the room. He dashed to the walls and gasped. The enemy was here attacking his walls. It was utterly impossible, how could this be? The archangels were all-powerful, and it was unthinkable that they could have failed. The grim, unspoken retort came in the form of Corrupt Archangels swooping down to slaughter the archers guarding the walls. Giant stones, hurled by catapults, fell and exploded into dark fire which slowly consumed his stone walls. Herman called forth to his men to make their stand to the last man. They all made a heroic attempt behind their leader, strong in their belief in the holy light and their piety. Herman summoned his powers to cast sacred spells on his men's blades and armor, and they ran forth to clash against the undead invaders. Herman also sent a mental call to the Dominions for aid. They would have to hold the walls until they came to his rescue. The fighting continued, and the battle was indecisive. Herman and his men regained hope. They had held the walls, even against a sneak attack. Soon the mighty Dominions would come to their aid. Herman failed to see that the enemy were merely feigning death and they were waiting for the Dominions as well. A silver cornet sent its notes, raising the hearts of the defenders of the holy light. The Dominions had come! Herman's men, knights clad in steel armor, gave a great cry and fell on the enemy. Many Dominions, powerful spirits defending the light, appeared with gigantic swords of magic steel and began to unleash their magic. The dark forces quailed. Or did they? A great figure rose among the ranks of the undead. Koj gestured and muttered words of strength as he gathered magical energy. He threw back his head and laughed in triumph. Now was the chance to eliminate the Dominions. This was the reason he had waited for so long. Globes of purple light appeared on his hands, and slowly grew, emitting sizzling sounds as they drained heat from the air. Koj swept forth with his hands. The globes of light exploded into shards of purple lightning, which grew into bolts of lightning. The lightning flew towards the Dominions. They tried to block it, but it was all in vain. The lightning pierced and wrapped around the Dominions. Koj laughed. Fools. The poor fools who knelt in cowardly prayer were now doomed. 'Pray, pray all you want, for now you come into my grip.' The perfect, beautiful features of the Dominions were now twisted and covered in blood as they ripped open. Blood came gushing down and stained the ground. The Dominions screamed and thrashed, but it was all useless. They were all slaughtered within a matter of minutes. OOC: To be continued... ==================================== Redemption: A Demon's Search For Meaning ==================================== (continued from Chapter 2) Herman could feel the sweat drip down his metal collar. He gripped his sword desperately and tried to rally his men. He roared out a battle cry in a gallant voice, and charged the dark army. His men saw him and were heartened. "We shall stand and defeat the enemy! This shall be our finest hour!" Herman's men fought back brilliantly, and the black robed members of General Koj's army were bowled over and were forced back. Skeletons and zombies began to die off. Herman regained hope, and continued to mow his way through the enemy, managing to slaughter a few liches. The liches hissed and snarled at him, but their spells bounced off a shimmering white shield. Herman then cast a spell with his remaining mana. "Powers of the light, Lord will thou forsake me at this moment? Mass Bless!" A globe of light sprang forth from Herman's silver gauntlet and sprayed glimmering white powder on his men. They began to exude faint white auras of light as they were blessed by the divine. It happened at that moment. Koj began to search for some mana, and he found it nearby. A rotting swamp, filled with the writhing horses of lost travelers, and infested by wolves, would serve his purpose. He gathered dark energy from the swamp and concentrated it into his own blade. He then charged towards Herman. Herman's enchanted sword flew up and met his own. "Vile servant of the night, you shall perish." "Brave words, human scum. I am not impressed." "This day belongs to the divine and the forces of the glorious light!" "We shall see. I now summon the power of the Everlasting Night!" Herman watched in horror as strands of black shadow flew out from Koj's sword and began to tear apart the hapless humans. Herman's spell of Mass Bless was torn asunder and the men began to fail without the aid of magic. Hideous laughter echoed from nowhere in particular. Herman barely deflected Koj's next thrust. Koj followed up with a powerful overhand swing that forced Herman to his knees. Herman shouted and raised his hand. A small globe of white light struck Koj on the shoulder and left some burns, scorching the unholy flesh. Koj snarled and brought his sword flying sideways, throwing Herman's sword off balance. Koj's massive leg then drove into Herman's belly, and the plate armor shattered. Blood flowed from Herman's lips as he collapsed. Koj's black blade cut apart the silver sword the next moment. "You shall serve my Master. Perhaps then you will serve a more useful purpose." Herman made no reply as skeletons approached and put him in shackles and hauled him away under Koj's watchful eye. Derian, the Green Knight of the S'trand Mountains, stared at the haggard, travel-worn messenger in horror. "Did I hear you correctly? The Lord Paladin has fallen?" The messenger doffed his cap, which was no longer a cap at all. It was unrecognizable, the blood-crusted rag that he clutched in his hands. "Yes, my lord. The Lord Paladin Herman has been broken by an evil demon, known as Koj." Derian stood up and looked out the window. He sighed, and glared in useless fury at the west sky. The enmy lay to the west, and they would be marching here under Koj's command. Derian suddenly turned around and rang a bell. A servant immediately came running. "Yes, sire?" "Mobilize my armies at once, and raise the alarm call through the Empire. We face a direct threat to the holy power." Herman glared at Mordikas in defiance. Mordikas, Lord of Red Terror, creator of the demon general Koj, repeated his question softly. Herman spoke with defiance. "You will get nothing out of me, evil one. I will not serve you." "Ah, but you will. I give you a choice between your life, or your service. The answer is obvious, is it not?" "Indeed it is. You can take my life, I am not serving you. I will not cooperate with such hideous evil." Mordikas, now wizened and old, paced the ground in front of Herman. He snapped his head towards the captive general with blazing eyes. "You leave me no choice. But alas, you will not recieve the ultimate redemption of death. Your mind and will is unwilling, hmm? I am perfectly satisfied with your body. It will be mine." He took out a jet black crystal, shaped like a scarab. Herman had no chance to react as Mordikas placed it on his neck. The insect came to life and burrowed its way into Herman's flesh. Herman screamed and thrashed to no avail...the scarab plowed its way inside him... The change was complete. Herman's body underwent a physical change. His skin was now a sickly greenish grey, his eyes now shone with an evil yellow light, and his hair, lips, and fingernails were now a shiny black. He was now ripe for the dark sorcery. He struggled still, thrashing about. "You will recieve your just penalty and punishment." Mordikas chuckled. "Ah, will I now? How ... frightening." He let a morbid chuckle escape him, and he placed his hand on Herman's chest. He uttered words of power, and Herman felt his willpower slip away like lifeblood from a severed vein. He was reborn as Herman, the newly born Horror Knight of Venom. OOC: Alright, end of Chapter 2. I will think up chapter 3 soon... ==================================== Redemption: A Demon's Search For Meaning ==================================== Chapter 3. Leya A young man with a full head of bushy, sandy hair and bright purplish-grey eyes stepped out of the pub and dusted himself. He cautiously examined the dark alley that engulfed the doorway, and began to walk. He had not gone ten paces when a whirlwind of glossy black hair and an athletic body suddenly appeared next to him. He emitted a grunt as a foot dug into his belly and doubled over. A triumphant female voice rang over him as the cold metal of a dagger made itself known to the man's neck. Wait, was that a female voice? "Your money or your life!" The young man murmured some unintelligible words and swiped at the female mugger. She easily evaded his blow, but she was not quick enough to avoid the spell that clung to his hand. She yelled out as a swarm of blinding sparks flew up against her face. The man darted in and planted a fist in her belly and launched a mental blast. The mugger collapsed. The man glanced at her face. She was temporarily knocked unconscious, and he had plenty of opportunity to study her face. She appeared to be a young girl of perhaps 17 years old, and she had glossy black hair that flowed like a soft river around her shoulders. She looked like anything but a thief and a mugger. He drew his sword and set the point against her throat. He watched as she opened her eyes. "Who are you?" "Me? Why do you want to know? And you might be proud of yourself. You're the first one who got past me with your purse intact. I didn't know you were a magician." "Hah. I dress purposely not to look like one. The art of illusion comes from the unknown, the unexpected, does it not? Ah well, what should I do with you¡¦decisions, decisions¡¦" The girl stared at him as he sank into a reverie. She decided to talk to this man. "So you're a magician. What's your name?" "Me? Snid, Snid the illusionist mage. I was born an orphan, so I have no surname. What's yours?" "I'm Leya. I'm an orphan, too. What do you do for a living? Sell your spells?" "Sell my spells? Never! That is the lowest level a magician can sink. I get my money by my own means." Snid scoffed. He considered the renegade "mercenary" wizards to be beneath his dignity. He did prefer to go hungry rather than sell his services. A true illusionist gets his daily bread by¡¦ "So how? By stealing?" Snid hesitated. How did she know? "Come on, I can tell because I'm a thief myself. Not that I'm a particularly good one. But I enjoy particular fame in this area as the Leya of the Night Owls." "Night Owls?" "Yes, it's because I don¡¯t make a sound." She flashed him a quick smile and started to leave, skipping and singing as she went. Snid stared after her and shook his head. He decided to look for an inn to stay the night. He found one by a convenient place, right next to the main road. He would stay the night and leave at dawn; he had a schedule to keep. The innkeeper grinned and rubbed his hands together as Snid walked inside. "What can I do f'r ye?" "I'd like a room to stay the night. Doesn't matter how good it is, a third class will do fine." "Alrighty, let's see h're¡¦that'll be two silver pieces if ye want a hot meal with y'r bed, or five copper pieces if ye wants t' economize. Mind ye, ye'll only get a bit of bread and a cup o' beer." "I'll economize." Snid reached inside his pocket for his money pouch¡¦ ¡¦but it was gone. Snid stared at his empty pocket in amazement and quickly began to search himself. The fact then clicked and registered in his mind. The innkeeper gave him a sad smile. "Got pickpocketed, eh? I'm guessing it was a fairly good lookin' young lady¡¦" So she had managed to take his sword away from herself and pick his pocket while keeping him talking. Snid began to burn for revenge. "How did you guess? Dammit, what am I supposed to do now? I'll have to track her down and get it back." The innkeeper blanched and jerked back, as if Snid had struck him a blow. "Ye'll put that idear outta y'r head, if ye knows whats good fer ye. That lass looks innoce'n, but she's dangerous. She's part of a big thievin' guild, she is." "Thieves' guild? Not the Night Owls?" "Ye got it, sonny. It's gone. Ye try it an' ye'll be growin' dagger blades outta y'r skin at night. Tell ye what, I'll let ye have that room free o' charge here just for once. Mind ye, ye'll be payin' me back some day. If ye is a magician ye could do me service." Snid stiffened. He had no choice, but he still hated the idea. "What's the problem?" "I needs a spell t' keep the rascally rats outta my cupboards, I do. Can ye do it?" "Why yes." Snid lifted up his hands and gesticulated wildly, muttering some unintelligible words. The innkeeper watched in fascination as a stream of pale light streaked forward and bathed his cupboard in soft light. "Well, that'll be the keenest trick I saw. Thanks. Now ye can go up to y'r room ...laddie?" Snid could no longer hold in his rage at being robbed and he sprinted out the door. The innkeeper shook his head and took out a grimy cloth. He muttered to himself as he wiped the bar. "Aye, young lads aren¡¯t what they used to be. They're all hasty and excitable, they is." - - - - - - - Koj entered the great hall and knelt before his lord and father, Mordikas. The Lord of Red Terror lifted his eyes from the ancient text he had been studying and glanced sharply at the huge bulk before him. "Well, Koj? How did Derian's expeditionary forces fare?" "My Lord, the armies you have put me in charge of managed to break through their lines. They are now virtually nil as an offensive formation, and we can proceed to bring down Derian himself." Mordikas pursed his lips and sat for a moment in thought. His instincts told him to be cautious at this point. "Ah, I suspect that it will not be easy. You have suffered some casualties, have you not?" "They are negligible, and still more so compared to the enemy losses." "I checked the battle casualty lists myself. You have suffered a greater percentage of casualties than before. This new enemy is not to be ignored lightly. Be sure to step cautiously and beware of sudden ambushes. Derian and the other knights of the S'trang mountains have a tradition for being able to maneuver with impossible agility in those high mountains. I have had long experience in dealing with them, and I know this to be true. They prefer to hide their troops somewhere and strike unexpectedly. In such a hit and run battle, you can only suffer grim losses. You know the weaknesses of our undead forces, especially the demonic cavalry, which serve as the backbone of the army. And I have heard of some new army of flying creatures devised by the Green Knights, and be careful. They might cause some damage to the liches, they are not angels and therefore impossible to corrupt. You might do well to bring some of the fallen angels to counteract." Koj bowed his head and committed all of this information to his memory. He knew that he needed the artillery support of the sorceries of the liches in order to clear a path for a charge led by the demon cavalry. It was important that those two units be adequately protected. He continued to listen for a while, and rose when Mordikas turned back to his book. This was a signal to leave. He paused as Mordikas spoke one last time. "If you find yourself hard pressed, I will send some spells to your aid." Koj bowed again and left. OOC: Well, I am currently thinking...the next part shall come!! [This message has been edited by ntraveler2 (edited June 19, 2002).] ==================================== Redemption: A Demon's Search For Meaning ==================================== Chapter 4. Pursuit The sandy haired young man, who was clad in leather armor and wore a short sword at his belt, stealthily walked down the dark alley. He stopped, and glanced around him to make sure that no one was watching. Perhaps his eyes glowed unnaturally for a moment, perhaps they sparkled with hidden power, but no one was able to detect what he did next. Snid walked on, satisfied by his magical search, and hurried on as if following an invisible trail. He muttered quietly to himself. "I can feel her essence leading this way¡¦now where did it go¡¦ah ha! Now we're moving." Again the brief, undetectable glow of the eyes. He turned to his right and found a blank wall. He merely smiled and put his hands on it. As he chanted something softly, he might have been easily mistaken for a lover in despair who is deliriously talking to himself. From his dress, no one could possibly know that he was a professional magician. Snid finished muttering and tapped the wall twice. A man-sized portion of it swung around as if on hinges, and Snid quickly padded his way in. The wall closed soundlessly behind him, and Snid found himself standing in the cellar of an obscure, remote inn. He walked around for a while until his boots caught on a wooden seam. A lesser man might have walked on, unperturbed, but Snid stooped to examine it. "Could it possibly¡¦?" He put his hands on it, and a wooden panel softly swung away to reveal a ladder. Snid climbed down the ladder, and a heavy hand instantly clamped down on his shoulder. He snapped around and found himself facing a burly man with his face completely covered by a bushy beard. "Now how did this happen? I thought our den was well hidden." A female voice could be heard from somewhere near, perhaps in the next room. It also sounded vaguely familiar. "It can happen, Hexo. I'm guessing the little rat I shook (thieves' jargon for picking pockets) might want his baby (purse) back. Not that I found a lot in it. Let me see, we can stick him together." Footsteps sounded, and she stepped into the room. A split second before she looked up and saw the intruder, many things happened at once. Hexo grinned and began to take out his dagger, an evil glint in his eyes as he groped around with his other hand to get a firmer grip on his prisoner. Except that the prisoner was no longer there. And was standing right behind him. A sword point made itself home inside Hexo's barrel-like chest, and Hexo fell in a pool of blood. "Snid! You!" Leya cried out as she took out a dagger with lightning speed and hurled it towards Snid's face. But Snid was no longer there again, and Leya barely parried his death stroke in time. Dagger and sword, face and face glared at one another as the two bodies writhed and struggled. Leya was stronger and she gained the upper hand. She had almost freed her other dagger to do Snid a favor by relieving him of the burden of life, but she had momentarily neglected his magic. This rewarded her in the form of hot sparks flying into her eyes. Leya gasped and twisted away, crying out for reinforcements. Snid saw the danger of being overpowered by numbers: he could only cast spells so quickly, and there were more thieves than he could deal with. He leapt towards the ladder and barely saved his ankle from being hamstrung. He was out the door in a moment, but a band of black-cloaked thugs materialized around him. He found himself surrounded. One of the thugs grinned evilly. "Now missy, you'll be spending the cold night with us. You'll like a warm bed, don't you? As warm as we can make you with metal blades and granite!" Snid ducked away and parried another blow with his sword, readying another spell. A fist barely grazed the side of his head as he launched bolts of blue fire. They spun around the alley, slamming into Snid's assailants. Several thugs went down, clutching their heads, but the few that were left standing took no chances. A shaft of steel slashed open Snid's leg, and he fell. A rough, stony voice echoed through his now torn ears. "You rat-livered spell weaver, you won't find yourself in your teacher-mage's lap now. At 'm, boys!" Snid felt several blades cut into his innards and was only vaguely aware of booted feet kicking at his face. He was knocked into unconsciousness with the merciful blow of a street brick. - - - - - - - The setting sun finally disappeared from the horizon, causing both the sky and Derian's forehead to darken with gloom. Derian paced the stone floor for a while, and turned to a horseman standing next to him. "I want another patrol out there right now. No telling what might be out there, and I'm not taking chances." "Yes, sir." He saluted and spurred his horse to a trot. Derian continued to stare out into the darkness, knowing that if the enemy planned to attack, it would be now. He double-checked his horse, sword, and armor even though he had checked it many times already. He couldn't suppress the feeling of foreboding and dread, and tried in vain to shrug it off. In a last attempt to reassure himself, he gripped and drew his sword. He briefly concentrated, and soon white fire lanced down along the edge of his blade. This was the art of the swordsman. A knight's final goal was to discipline his mind and inner energies to a sufficient level in order to gain full control over them. Once that was achieved, he could manipulate magic and the elements to enhance his attacks and defenses. This was only reachable to people who were born with a special trait, and even then extreme training and self denial was required in order to reach the ideal state of mind. Derian was one of the youngest Sword Seekers, as they were called, and he had reached his goal at the age of 42. He withdrew the fire and listened carefully for sounds of invading troops. Some inexplicable feeling, some instinct told him to muster his defenses. He did not know how well founded his fears were, because he did not yet know of the demise of his expeditionary force. Koj had obliterated them so completely no survivor came to Derian's castle to tell the tale. The sounds came. The sound of steel rubbing against steel, the heavy breathing of the unnatural horses of demon cavalry, and the tramping of bony feet on the ground all reached Derian's keen ears. They were perhaps twenty minutes away, he judged. At that moment, the patrol came back with the news. "Sir, we found a hostile army marching straight in our direction." "Yes, I've heard them. Prepare the light cavalry and the forest archers along with a force of the Griffons." "Yes, sir." "We're going to drop down on them and get them before they even know what hit them, so we must hurry and be as silent as possible." "Yes, sir!" The signal spread quickly, and the grizzled riders of the Griffons gathered up their weapons and flew their steeds up into the air. The Griffons swooped silently into the night, and the horsemen also coaxed their mounts into the darkness. The archers, specially trained by the elves, disappeared as well. Derian led the horsemen in the front. They hid themselves well, and stood by an ideal bottleneck that the foreign army had to pass through. Derian craned his neck and caught sight of the enemy, and his heart sank. The dreaded demon general, Koj, was at the front, and the sheer size of the army was oppressing. Mile after mile of rotting flesh, animated by foul magicks, greeted his eyes wherever he swept them. Derian silently drew his sword, and gave the signal to charge as the enemy reached the critical spot. "Attack, brave men of S'trang! Slay the foul invaders! Zoss S'trang Domaiches!!" As Derian roared out the ancient war cry, his forces swept onto the enemy from land and air. Arrows and rocks hurled from the Griffon riders fell and crushed many an unfortunate undead, and the hisses of the dying liches and demons could be heard as Derian's ambush took its toll. He charged and headed straight for the enemy general, who was occupied with three elite knights. Derian confidently swung his sword at an obviously open spot in the demon's defense. But his sword passed through thin air. Derian stared for a split second in disbelief as the truth struck home. "An illusion! Foul trickery, this is!!" The enemy vanished out of sight, and reappeared from the trees around Derian's forces. Koj appeared from behind Derian, and a huge black blade swept through the air with deadly precision. Derian parried in time, injecting magical power into his sword. He extended his field of magic to his steed, thus occupying the beast's mind to form a single gestalt mind. The pure, mental fury of a Sword Seeker rose up in challenge to Koj's attacks. White fire spun around Koj in a spiral, burning and singeing his oily skin. Koj roared. "You are indeed skilled, demonic one. But I am the better!" Derian proved this fact as he managed to force Koj backwards. Derian's steel came up and dug into Koj's side. Koj merely grunted and pulled away. He began to search for a source of mana to tip the balance again in his favor. He made a mental search but found none. He began to perspire as he faced the prospect of death at the hands of this formidable human knight. Then his eyes lighted on his enemy. Without a second thought he raised his hand and sent a violet bolt of energy towards Derian. Derian easily parried it with his flame-covered sword, but Koj had been calculating that move. The bolt absorbed the mana within Derian's blade and transferred it to Koj. Derian showed surprise. "Hm. Interesting move. But that will not help you now!" Derian made an feint and lunged. Koj took the steel between his ribs and went down. Derian swooped down for the death blow. Unfortunately, the blade passed through thin air once more. Koj reappeared behind Derian. The black sword cut neatly into Derian's back. He staggered, and struggled to stay standing. Koj looked at him in puzzlement. "Why do you keep fighting and not surrender? You know your army is gone." Derian looked around and saw a great part of his troops slain, and the rest enslaved with further magic. He could see the liches draining the life from the hapless Griffons to replace their own fallen, and the demonic cavalry was doing the same to the remaining living humans. Derian gritted his teeth as he lunged in again. True, the situation was hopeless, but he was recovering from his wound. One of the advantages of the Sword Seekers was that they had almost unnaturally enhanced constitutions. "So? Does that matter to me now? I have no wish to be enslaved by your master. I will slay myself before you try to capture me." Koj's weapon bit into Derian's left arm. "The situation is already hopeless, I do not see why you keep fighting. It is folly that I have seen numerous humans commit." Derian struggled to breathe as he replied. "Any human whose homeland is in danger would try to defend it. Do you not understand it, demon? Wouldn't you do the same?" "Homeland? I do not understand the word." Derian went down as he received another brutal attack on his leg. "...a homeland is where you and your family was born. As well as your ancestors. Don't you feel any blood ties?" "Blood ties? So what if you were born somewhere? Is that particularly important?" "Yes." "Why?" "The land contains the memories of the past, the memories of companionship with your comrades. To surrender myself would be to betray them." "How? And what is companionship? You use many unfamiliar words to me, human. And in case you didn¡¯t notice, you are dying. Now is your chance to surrender. I will heal you if you do." "Never. Companionship is the mutual trust and friendship that humans feel for one another. Humans bond that way. It is an emotional and mental process, a thing of the mind. Human minds are malleable and they are soft enough to change, as they inevitably do when human minds encounter an environment. A human mind changes to fit into the surroundings, and also try to form bonds with other human minds. It is something you, and the forces of darkness will not understand." Derian was fast dying from blood loss. "I have lost, but my memory will live on in other humans. They will remember what I did, that I never gave up till the last, and that is enough for me. It is a way to achieve immortality." "Immortality? But you will still be dead, foolish human." Derian was already dead and could no longer reply. - - - - - - - Snid found himself in a dark cell of grey stone. He awoke to a splitting headache and an empty stomach. It seemed to be quite some time since he had been last wounded, from the way he had partly healed. Snid congratulated himself as he rose to explore his cell. That Regeneration Enchantment was certainly a good investment. It had taken quite a bit of money, but he had a feeling he would need it in a dangerous city like this. He saw that his spellbooks were gone, but they had not imposed any magical barriers on him. He almost laughed out loud. True, magicians needed to memorize spells in order to use them, and memorized spells did dissipate within a few days, but they had not reckoned with Snid's hidden spellbook. He sneaked a glance around and listened for any footsteps. He found none. Thus satisfied, he stripped off his clothes and glanced at his tattooed chest and stomach. Behold the hidden book of Snid! Feeling ridiculously pleased with himself, he bent his head in meditation and memorized his spells anew, and quickly put his clothes back on. This last action was done exactly on time, because he heard some footsteps come from somewhere. OOC: Tisk, tisk. I consider all of your comments a part of the story itself, a sort of 'outer story'. Besides, it's too much bother to make a new OOC and keep track of that. Enjoy chapter 4, while I slave to bring you the next one. ==================================== Redemption: A Demon's Search For Meaning ==================================== (continued from chapter 4) The footsteps sounded closer and closer until Snid could see a shape stand outside his cell. He could recognize Leya's lithe form among the shadows. Her voice rang quietly in his ears. "So, you tried to get away from us. That wasn't so nice, was it?" "Does it matter if it was nice? In self preservation there is no such thing as nice, lady." "In a situation like this, when you're cornered, there is no such thing as free speech, either. Talk to please me." "Yes, ma'am. Thank you very much for inviting me." Leya replied with equal sarcasm. "Why you're welcome, sir. Welcome to my humble abode. May I offer you tea?" Snid watched in bewilderment as he saw Leya push some tea and cake through the bars of his cage. Was this woman joking with him? She had better not be. "Thank you very much, ma'am. This is quite an honor." Snid kept up the sarcasm, just to play along. "And by the way, how did you get the better of me? I am one of the greatest magicians in the world!" Snid thought to himself, I can just picture Master Mordikas' disapproving cough and the swish of his negative-point-delivering pen. He snickered to himself. "So? Who cares if you're a magician? We don't fight from the front. We strike when you're not ready. Then, your skills don't count. You're just plain $h!t if it comes to that." Snid gave her a quiet, hard stare. Leya stared back, and suddenly flinched as she felt a blackness crawl through her spine. Snid continued to glare at her, with increasing intentness and homicidal lust, and he watched her fall under his little ploy. Hm, this was a handy trick that was entirely nonmagical. It was all in the eyeballs. Snid spoke slowly. "My dear Leya, I have something to confess..." He paused, his eyes still on her. "I've been meaning to tell you that..." Leya listened breathlessly with fear and expectation as well. "...you're a complete a$$hole." She never remembered what hit her after that. Her mind blanked out as Snid's mental blast ripped it off its hinges, and Snid's mind took over. He began to sweat just a little. Controlling two bodies took quite a bit of mental effort. He and Leya, now under his control, began to walk up the stone stairs that led to the outside. - - - - - - - Koj began the tedious task of converting the country and citizens to complete subordinates. He led his vast army through villages and cities, slaying stray militias and guards while placing marks of mental control on every mind they found. They slaughtered all who was deemed inefficient to control. However, his mind was not on his work. Many different thoughts spun through his head. Loyalty? Sacrifice? Love? All he knew was blind obedience to his master. His life was a mixture of slaughter, pain, and blind obedience. Now that he thought of it, he wondered why humans seemed so different from his silent, undead armies. Sometimes he thought, maybe it was because they had the power of ... what was it? The word was independence, but a strange cloud in his mind blocked it off before he could think it. That same mental cloud slowly banished all treacherous thoughts from his mind. The cloud weakened later when he broke into a cottage. His army was hesitant to enter, and he knew it was because he hadn't given them any specific instructions. He felt a pang of curiosity and walked over to it and promptly smashed down the door with a careless sweep of his hand. He saw a woman clutching her baby, eyes wide with terror. He did a quick mental check and saw that both of them were Insubordinate, the rare variety of humans that were difficult to control. He swung his weapon toward the baby, but the woman gave a cry and flung herself in front of his blow. Koj's weapon slashed off half of the woman's arm, and she crumpled into a heap, but with the baby cradled under him. Koj asked her the question that had been burning in his subconscious. "Why?" The woman, in the midst of terror and death, was struggling to reply. It was the only thought on her mind, and it was translated in the form of a whisper. "Motherlove, demon. It is something you will never understand." She died a few seconds later. Koj picked up the baby from under her, but he really could not see it. A million thoughts flew around his mind, and he could slowly feel the mental cloud weaken. A titanic struggle raged within himself...Motherlove? What was it? OOC: More later, now for the big play -posted by ntraveler2, scholar/storyteller, the Voice of the Prophets, and renegade from the dying AMBB
Wyvern Posted August 24, 2002 Report Posted August 24, 2002 ntraveler2, Thanks for posting examples of your work from the Archmage Bulletin Boards, I enjoyed reading through them and think you have a talent for painting vivid pictures with your stories. To properly apply to the Pen, however, your application should be one that was written with the specific intention of joining the Pen, not a work that was previously written. If you could post a piece of writing written with the specific intention of joining the Pen, that would be great. I'll be eagerly awaiting it... [image]http://members.shaw.ca/kea/am/wyvy.jpg[/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.
Guest ntraveler2 Posted August 24, 2002 Report Posted August 24, 2002 WHAT!? Whaddya mean it has to be written just for the Pen? Fine, humph...I'm half tempted to go take my stories elsewhere...but hm, since I'm a nice guy I'll give you folks a second chance. Here's ... *clears throat* ----------------------------- Song of the undines ----------------------------- "Our mage guild has been experiencing a shortage of spell ingredients lately. I think it is high time we searched for some and replenish our stores." Guildmaster Zakkus paused, walking slowly across the room. He spoke, twisting his long crooked beard with his fingers. It was an old habit of his. "Our supply of undines is especially low. As you might know, we need them to work in our mana-producing chambers, and their hair is a vital ingredient for many spells. I have a strong suspicion that many of them are hiding in several lakes nearby. I think it would be a good idea to capture some for our use. " There were several murmurs of agreement from the higher members of the guild. The lower members did not say anything, as usual. Zakkus noted this and nodded with satisfaction. Most of the time they never agreed on something without hot debate, forcing him to make up their minds for them. Guilds could be so difficult to manage. "Then, if no one has any objections, we might as well start tomorrow." A young mage timidly raised his hand. Zakkus raised his eyebrows. Oh ho? "Master, I don't see why we should just capture them without giving a single thought to their integrity. They are living beings with emotions, aren't they?" Zakkus curled his lips into a sneer. Here was a sentimental fool. Inferior beings were meant to be exploited. "Undines might be capable of basic emotions, but that does not place them on the same level as humans. They are mere animals capable of simple magic. I thought that was common sense. We leave tomorrow. End of council." The young mage was still not convinced, but he decided to ignore his doubts. He didn't want to risk antagonizing the Guildmaster. The rising sun rested gently on the shape of a young girl sleeping under the surface of a lake. Everything was quiet, and even the lake itself seemed to be lost in dreamy slumber. After what seemed like centuries the wind gently nudged the lake. Time to wake up. The lake stirred and the girl opened her eyes. She had glowing silvery-white skin and shimmering blue hair that seemed to flow like fine sand. She was Coral, a young undine just 200 years old. She stretched and searched for her comb. Now where did it go? She heard bright laughter from behind her and turned her head. One of her friends was holding it beyond her reach and sticking out her tongue. Coral gleefully gave chase, and the two of them scampered around the lake, laughing and giggling. They were both oblivious of the danger they were in. Coral had just retrieved her comb when a snowy white dove flew towards her, flapping its wings frantically. Coral looked at it, interested. "What's the matter with you today?? "There is no time to lose! The undines are in grave danger. I just saw hundreds of human magicians coming this way!" It flew around the lake squawking at the top of its scrawny lungs. The word spread quickly, and the undines were all up and preparing to defend themselves. They knew that it was no use running from a magician. Humans had all sorts of methods to track down fugitives. The undines kept themselves busy fletching arrows, stringing bows, and the undine-magi refreshed their memories of the arcane by studying their spell books. The humans came all too soon, and the undines could sense their gathering magical energy. The fight had begun. The undine-magi quickly started a chant to resist the effects of whatever spell the humans were casting, and erected a shimmering bubble of force around them. But the humans merely smiled and threw their spells at the undine-magi's force field. They penetrated the field as if it were a soap bubble and burned many of its unfortunate creators. A human then shouted several arcane words and a bolt of red fire leapt from the end of his staff and flew towards the undines. Before the undine-magi could react. The red fire formed glowing chains out of thin air and trapped the undine-magi. The undine-magi desperately drew strength from the fabric of their connection to the magic of nature to throw spells of ice and lightning at the humans. But the humans just made some gestures and the undine-magi's spells shriveled up in mid-flight. The humans were obviously too powerful for them, and soon the undine-magi all lay helpless on the ground. After that the undine warriors began to fail without the magical support of the magi. It was a well-known fact of war that warriors cannot defend themselves against magicians, and this was proved again in this battle. Some of the undine warriors were slain, but the majority of them were chained like the undine-magi. The humans had not suffered a single casualty, and the only injury was an old magician who had a bruise on his leg after tripping over a rock. Guildmaster Zakkus smirked to himself. These undines would now serve a more constructive purpose than playing around in a lake. He barked a command word and the chains dragged the undines as if led by invisible hands. Coral and the rest of the undines were shoved unceremoniously into a great chamber hewn out of a mountain. It was inlaid with smooth, glossy white rock and silver plates here and there. Strange engravings and stone statues decorated its walls. This was one of the mana-producing chambers of the human mage guild, designed to sap magical creatures of their energy until they dropped from exhaustion. They would then be nursed back to health until they recovered and then thrown back inside the chambers. Meals would be given once a day, and sleep would be allowed for 4 hours a day. Coral could see all kinds of creatures already trapped within the chamber. They all looked quite subdued, and many were struggling to stay conscious. Several magicians stepped inside the chamber and chose several undines. The chosen were dragged outside, shorn of their hair, and pushed back inside. The magicians carefully collected the precious hair and left the chamber, closing the entrance behind them. Coral heard a squeaking sound as the humans locked the door. One of them muttered something and tapped the door with his staff. At that instant the stone statues sprang to life and each grabbed a prisoner. They then sank their stone teeth into the prisoners?flesh and drained not blood, but pure energy. Coral screamed and tried to pull herself free, but her statue kept a firm grip on her. The screams died down as the prisoners grew tired. After what seemed like years the statues released their grips and stopped moving. Coral fell to the floor, sobbing quietly. Several humans then came in and fed the prisoners on scraps of food appropriate for each creature. They fed them just enough to satisfy their hunger and left the chamber, taking care to lock the door. Next morning they were drained again. The injustice and disgrace continued for days, weeks, and months. Some of the prisoners became insane. These were promptly removed and slaughtered for their body parts. Not a single scrap of flesh or a single shard of bone escaped the clutches of the humans. Coral wept constantly, but she was one of the few who did. Many just stared morosely at nothing in particular. Almost none ever remembered that there was ever such a thing as hope. "The war that we have been preparing for is now at hand. Our allies have informed us that they detected a large-scale enemy movement in the far west. The enemy is about to launch a massive strike at the Elven Empire. Our guild has ignored the Empire so far because of minor disputes over the use of elementals for producing mana, but we must help them now. Should they fall, the necromancers of the enemy would obtain fresh corpses to produce their armies. Visualize an army of up to several million skeletons and ghouls. I hardly need to go into the details of the danger that would put us in. We could be driven back all the way to the other side of the coast." Guildmaster Zakkus paused to let his point sink in. He was talking to the higher members of the guild, only the high ones. They all looked grave. The dark waves threatened them once again. Zakkus delicately rearranged the folds of his silken robe and spoke again. "Therefore, it is in our interest to aid the Empire and keep it from collapsing. If we can repel our enemy this time, we could plan a counterstroke while he is trying to gather another army. He will be somewhat confused after the unexpected defeat, because he thinks that we are enemies of the Empire. If we can crush him then, he will not move against us for several years. That will be plenty of time for us to gather our own forces and eliminate him once and for all. But first, we must offer the hand of alliance to the Empire. Does anyone object to this?" Zakkus looked around the room. Good. There were none. "Fine. I will send envoys to the elves tomorrow morning. We will have to increase our mana production by at least 100% to compensate for the mana that we will need for the war effort. Battle enchantments and spells are expensive to maintain." Zakkus' speech continued for another hour. All of the guild members had earnest looks on their faces. They were eager to defeat the forces of evil and make the world safe for mankind." The change began the very next day. The prisoners were drained more intensely and for longer periods of time. Their daily time for sleep was down to a mere thirty minutes. After a few days Coral could no longer bear it. She immediately began to organize a resistance movement among the prisoners to escape the cruelty of the human rule. At first the prisoners refused to even look at her. Could she not see that there was no hope, ever? Didn't she remember how powerful the humans were at the last battle? But she kept at it, giving speeches at night while fighting her own exhaustion, and some of the prisoners started to feel some twinges of hope. Surely they could free themselves if the all worked together. More and more crowded around Coral to hear her nightly speeches and listened to her uplifting words. The best time to do it, she insisted, was in the morning right before the were drained because that was when their strength was at its highest. The now hopeful prisoners began to form a plan. The magicians came as usual in the morning to activate the chambers. But when they raised their staffs in front of the entrance, a tremendous explosion blew it off its hinges. The magicians were swept off their feet and the prisoners quickly reduced them to ashes. The prisoners spilled out of the mountain where they had been held for so long. A narrow path led from the chamber to the grassy plains below. The prisoners spilled down this path, and had almost reached the ground when humans suddenly appeared out of thin air. They all raised their staffs and began to prepare their spells. The prisoners quickly summoned storm clouds with their magic and threw bolts of lightning at the humans. Several were slow to react and suffered serious burns, but most of them easily blocked the shards of lightning with a well-placed defensive enchantment. Coral rallied the somewhat crestfallen prisoners and hurled thunder and lightning like Zeus himself. This time many humans were injured and a few were killed. The prisoners cheered and intensified the onslaught. They were gaining the upper hand and human casualties mounted. But Coral could see a circle of magicians chanting in unison and knew that their next spell would be a devastating one. She desperately gathered every remaining scrap of willpower and energy and flung them at the magicians in an effort to deflect their spell. But the magicians only sneered at her feeble efforts and shouted an arcane word in unison. A yellow pinprick of light slowly formed at the center of the circle and grew into the size of a large wolf. It stopped growing, throbbed reluctantly for a few seconds, and exploded. A flood of blinding light swept through the battlefield and continued on for several miles. The prisoners were now stone blind and completely helpless. The magicians, who were shielded against the effects of the light, quickly summoned chains out of pure energy and bound the prisoners. Coral slumped to the ground in despair. The rebellion was over. The humans quickly found out the leader of the rebellion through a bit of torture. Coral was tossed into a steel cage overlooking the sea, and the magicians maintained a constant watch over her. She would die at dawn, in front of the prisoners as an example. The moon spread its light gently over the smooth sea. Coral watched numbly as a pair of seagulls drifted by her cage. They were a mated pair. May you live long and have many chicks, Coral mumbled as a silent message. Tell them about me when they are old enough. A single glimmer formed in her right eye and dropped onto the floor of the cold, hard cage. The seagulls briefly circled the moon and glided towards the horizon. Soon she, too, would be granted the freedom of endless flight. Then she would soar through endless time and race those gulls without a worry or care. She would be free again.
Wyvern Posted August 25, 2002 Report Posted August 25, 2002 As ntraveler2 impatiently waits in his applicant easy chair, grumbling to himself about the things one must go through to apply to the Pen, Wyvern reads over the application story "Song of the Undines" one last time. As soon as the overgrown lizard has finished reading the story for the final time, an evil and mischeivous grin forms on his reptilian face. The smile is so corrupt and vile looking that upon seeing it, ntraveler2 immediatly shivers from anxiety and goes pale. Having never witnessed the reactions of Wyvern before, the applicant is uncertain if it is a good sign or a bad sign for the verdict of his application... he is unaware that it's neither... Within the overgrown lizard's head, cognitive thought processes fueled by malice and greed were working at full throttle... Ntraveler2's story was good indeed... very good, in fact... good enough to be published by the nearest agency for a hefty sum of geld! Thoughts of profits racing through his mind, Wyvern licks his lips and silently devises a strategy for stealing the story and selling it to a publishing agency for millions of geld... After a long and awkward moment of silence, Wyvern takes ntraveler2's application and lifts himself from his chair... The nervous applicant crosses his fingers and shuts his eyes, breathing in deeply while awaiting his verdict. Much to his surprise, rather then giving a verdict, the overgrown lizard exclaims in a voice full of obviously artificial urgency: "Oh my God. I forgot a... meeting, yeah that's it! A meeting I'm supposed to be at. You wait here, I've got to go sell your... errrrr... I mean I've got to go attend the meeting! Don't worry, I'll be back before you can say "plagiarism"!" With that, Wyvern rushes out of the office and slams the door behind him, leaving a shocked ntraveler2 alone in the room with the Almost Secretary of Initiates, Melba. The Almost Secretary rolls her eyes and grumbles "there's trouble at foot..." while ntraveler2 crosses his arms and lets out a dismal sigh... Elsewhere, about an hour later... Wyvern bursts into a publishing agency located a few miles North of the Pen, panting to himself and clenching ntraveler2's story in his left hand. Laughing sinisterly, the overgrown lizard slams the story on a desktop and messily scratches out ntraveler2's name, replacing it with his own. Wyvern then immediatly walks up to a nearby customer service counter and hands the document to one of the publishers working there. The formally dressed publisher eyes the overgrown lizard curiously, then carefully looks over the story... After he has gone over the application, the publisher frowns and exclaims: "I see what you're trying to pull lizawd... but ya can't do it! Tha story's already been published, see...?!" With that, the publisher takes a book from under his counter and opens it, pointing out a passage to Wyvern: arch17.magewar.com/ubb/Fo...00475.html Wyvern's face goes blank... His jaw drops open and he stares at the previously written passage for a full 10 minutes before being dragged away by security... ;p OOC: Unfortunatly, ntraveler2, I can't accept the application unless it was written with the specific intention of joining the guild. As I said before, previously written material is not an acceptable form of application. I thought that "Song of the Undines" was very well written and had strong underlying themes, but as it was not originally written with the intention of joining the Pen I can't accept it. Write a new piece of writing and post it as your application, and it'll certainly be considered. [image]http://members.shaw.ca/kea/am/wyvy.jpg[/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. Edited by: Wyvern00 at: 8/25/02 1:47:27 am
Guest ntraveler2 Posted August 25, 2002 Report Posted August 25, 2002 Ok, this will be a bit unpolished (I usually slave over my works), but here it is. I will finish it later, but I'll submit it anyway. Twilight's Dance The wind gently caresses the wounds of my heart and fills my wings with air. Although I have lived through many years since Leila died, her memory still lingers within me. I flex my white, feathery wings as I conceal a glimmer of starlight poking from the corner of my eye and kneel. The place where I am is a small clearing on a hill in the middle of a forest. It is unnaturally quiet. This is the place where she died, and the little heap of ashes she left behind is buried here in a small grave. The silvery voice of an angel cuts through my thoughts. "Sir, it is time to go." "Wait, it won't take a minute." I kiss the small, square grave of blue stone. A river of memories washes over me as I think of the woman who lies here. I am Thadis, captain of the archangels. Angels are born with two wings, and archangels have four. Occasionally, some people are born with more than that, and they generally enjoy high social status. I came into this world with twelve and because of this, I was always treated with respect and awe. I was trained in the arts of swordplay and magic, and given the rank of archangel lieutenant. I won the title of archangel captain by showing valor in the battles against the hordes of evil devils. As a result, I became one of the most powerful and influential figures in angel society and was hailed as a hero. Soon, I gained enough power to be considered the ruler of all angelkind. Surely this was enough for any person to hope for. But I was never satisfied with my victories over the so-called "fiends" and "infidels". The way I saw it, the only difference between the angels and the devils was physical appearance. Angels had white, feathery wings and blond hair, while devils had black, leathery wings with black hair. Although many people were convinced that the devils' black hearts were mirrored in the blackness of their hair, and that their almost icy pale skin betrayed their lack of souls, I never saw things that way. Devils were living people and they certainly possessed hearts and souls. I saw nothing in our wars for "justice and virtue". The "pure and virtuous angels" were merely ignorant bigots, at least in my view of the world. What do they know of devils to call them "evil"? Alas, I could do nothing. In a society like the angels', one never dares to voice such objections. A single word could bring ruin.
Wyvern Posted August 27, 2002 Report Posted August 27, 2002 Within a prison located a few miles South of the publishing agency where Wyvern had tried to submit one of ntraveler2's works as his own, the greedy lizard sits dismally in his grade A maximum security cell. The prison officers had moved Wyvern to a maximum security cell not because he had attempted to escape or had proved to be a dangerous threat, but rather because of the noisy racket the overgrown lizard usually made from complaining. In the ultra-secure cell, Wyvern's yappings could be heard much less clearly... especially with the piece of duct tape they had placed over his mouth... Wyvern raises an eyebrow as a sign at the far left end of his cell labeled "Visiting Hours" is suddenly illuminated and two of the gates locking him in (there were four in total) are slowly opened. He then quickly jumps to his feet as he recognizes the two people that had come to visit him... It was Melba and ntraveler2! Had they come to rescue him from this place...?! Wyvern immediatly rushs towards ntraveler2 (he would never run towards Melba, even in the most desperate of situations) and accidentaly crashes into one of the gates still blocking him in the process. Melba and ntraveler2 flinch at the sight of Wyvern swaying on the verge of collapsing from the crash, only to barely manage to retain his balance... Noticing the piece of duct tape on Wyvern's mouth that prevents him from saying anything, Melba decides to start the conversation: "Well, you stupid, inconsiderate bozo of an Elder..." Melba starts, grinning to herself as Wyvern angrily bangs against one of the fences locking him in with his fist only to be electrocuted "...the Pen will get you out of here, if you agree to look over ntraveler2's new application..." Wyvern nods his head and sighs from under the duct tape covering his mouth... Melba then signals to two of the officers guarding Wyvern's cell, who promptly open the two remaining locked doors a crack in order to slip the new application through the crevice. Wyvern picks up the "Twilight's Dance" application, looks over it once, and then gives an 'A-O.K' sign with his hands that signifies "ACCEPTED" OOC: Thanks for putting up with the process and submitting an original application, ntraveler2. I very much liked the beginning of "Twilight's Dance", and eagerly look forward to its continuation. You're application is ACCEPTED, and I'll send you the password info as soon as possible.... Welcome to the Pen! [image]http://members.shaw.ca/kea/am/wyvy.jpg[/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. Edited by: Wyvern00 at: 8/27/02 12:38:53 am
Guest ntraveler2 Posted August 27, 2002 Report Posted August 27, 2002 ntraveler2 tucks the little scrap of paper, which is his Pen ID, into his pocket and walks away from the office, mildly regretting that he hadn't taken the chance to beat the heck out of Wyvern when he attempted to steal his piece...he congratulates himself on his insight on publishing it earlier. OOC: Yay... -posted by ntraveler2, scholar/storyteller, the Voice of the Prophets, and renegade from the dying AMBB
Guest ntraveler2 Posted September 9, 2002 Report Posted September 9, 2002 Hey, why do I still appear as "Visitor"? Wyvern, please straighten this out. -posted by ntraveler2, scholar/storyteller, the Voice of the Prophets, and renegade from the dying AMBB
Gwaihir Posted September 9, 2002 Report Posted September 9, 2002 Erm, ntraveler2, the last two posts you've made have had the word initiate under your name. I might advise looking before leaping. ---------- I want to be page 93 of Pineapples, the Avian Crows-Nyyark
Guest ntraveler2 Posted September 11, 2002 Report Posted September 11, 2002 hm, oh...I thought this was one of those forums where your title changes everywhere when it changes. Oh bother, never mind. -posted by ntraveler2, scholar/storyteller, the Voice of the Prophets, and renegade from the dying AMBB
Guest ntraveler2 Posted November 7, 2002 Report Posted November 7, 2002 What does my new title mean and why did it change???
Guest Katzaniel Posted November 7, 2002 Report Posted November 7, 2002 (Howdy ntrav!) It means you didn't post in the "annual role call". You have to post a story w/ weenie in the title to get rid of it. I came after the role call, so I got away easy... on the other hand, at least weenie awardee is more unique than initiate. I like.
Guest ntraveler2 Posted November 11, 2002 Report Posted November 11, 2002 Weenie award, just for not making it to the roll call. A roll call in a forum!? It's the single most retarded thing I've ever heard. Whoever thought of it must expect all of us to have as little of a life as s/he does, to be spending all friggin week in this place. I'm not amused.
Peredhil Posted November 11, 2002 Report Posted November 11, 2002 Back in the days when I was Elder of Lists, I thought of the Weenie Awards as a light hearted way to find out who was active and who wasn't. It was a Role-Call, because so many of us enjoy role-playing. It was held for a month, so those with jobs, school, lives, or all of the above could have a chance to check in, and at least make a one line contribution. Since we all are here for the expressed purpose of writing and growing, it wasn't thought to be overwhelming. To get rid of the Weenie Award, all that had to be done is to make an original post with the word "Weenie" in the title, again, not to be considered a huge burden in such a friendly place as this. We have few rules and traditions here, but manners and being Polite are really one of them. Even my dearest enemy, Doctor Evil, is Rude with great class. For the record, I retired, becoming an Ancient, for lack of time. And I STILL found time to give back to the guild, in the form of a short post in the Role-Call. Oh, and I'm a he. The She to which you refer, one of the unappreciated Elders in this place, one of those who do the day to day maintenance around her, also has a life. And she still manages to not only post, but do maintain the Lists. Are you here to grow? To help others to grow? To help nurture a frightened young writer with raw talent who is afraid they suck? Not everyone has great creativity and a strong ego. The Pen is for every for everyone to grow safely, not just for a few to show how brilliant they are for the rest. Or so I thought in my day... Elrond Peredhil, 31 Ancient of the Pen is Mightier than the Sword Bard of Terra lost Order of the Quill, Legion of the White Rose
Guest lumpenproletariat Posted November 12, 2002 Report Posted November 12, 2002 *tips his glass to Peredhil* Well put.
The Big Pointy One Posted November 12, 2002 Report Posted November 12, 2002 *Also tips a glass to Peredhil* I agree greatly as well, very nicely put ^.^ BigPointyStick ----------------- Newly appointed Page, and proud of it! The Trenchcoat Monk Wielder of the BPS Companion of Mr.Bunny "Stand ho, varlet! Thou shalt not take mine bunny!"
Guest lumpenproletariat Posted November 12, 2002 Report Posted November 12, 2002 I can see how your previous post is _obviously_ the most mature way you could react to that. The roll call is taken once a year, not weekly. And, well personally, I couldn't care less if you're not amused.
Guest MotherMichigan Posted November 12, 2002 Report Posted November 12, 2002 Anyone else find this guy's lack of amusement as amusing as I do?
Wyvern Posted November 12, 2002 Report Posted November 12, 2002 To briefly add to what others have said: You mentioned that you think taking roll call in a forum is a bad idea, ntraveler... I remind you that the Pen is a guild and a community in addition to a place to archive writing. You chose to join the guild by submitting an application, and were accepted as one of it's members. In doing so, you chose to become part of the guild... to follow guild guidelines and participate in guild events. As others have said, the Weenie Award is a very easy title to get rid of. Simply make one creative thread/post with 'weenie' somewhere in the title and your status will revert back to normal. It's not much to ask of a member... As others have also said, we're open to debates and criticism in the Pen, but only if they are done in a mature and responsible manner. Direct insults and flaming have never been part of the Pen, nor will they ever be. Neither of them contribute to the developement of the guild. Peace, Wyv- Edited by: Wyvern00 at: 11/12/02 1:07:38 am
Guest ntraveler2 Posted November 12, 2002 Report Posted November 12, 2002 A humble mortal begs permission to speak among the godly and mature members of the Pen... Roll call's not bad, it's just stupid. And I fail to be amused.
The Portrait of Zool Posted November 12, 2002 Report Posted November 12, 2002 You would never catch me with weenie in my title... Eek! ~Zool~ He who goes around, comes around.
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