SoaringIcarus Posted October 30, 2002 Report Posted October 30, 2002 Starting at the beginning would be cliché, he thought, as he approached the slightly daunting gates to The Pen; a place which he had heard much about. Perhaps too much… The beginning that most people wanted was a beginning filled with child abuse, secretes, isolation, and pain. A beginning they could sink their teeth into, and paint another tortured poet, a silent warrior. Someone who looked beautiful outside, and inside, due to his inner-pain. The kind of guy who, at the end of every hero’s film, RPG, and country-western either got the damsel, or became an evil overlord (Due to the lack of a damsel). Mostly, someone who wouldn’t get in the way too much, if he turned out to be merely the flavor of the week. Icarus laughed, shaking his head, allowing long straight locks to cusp his cheeks unflatteringly; veiling no mysterious scars, birthmarks, or remarkable eyes of any remarkable color. Alas, he was not born to superficial beauty. Those who did not know him, as was typical of most, saw him as one of an unimposing stature, yet the bearer of invaluable advice. They may have been right about his unusual trait, however they were gravely mistaken if they believed him to be some kind of quarter-machine prophet. To the best of his knowledge, he couldn’t advise a street urchin out of a paper-bag, and yet the friends of friends of friends never failed to frequent his door step. Over time, Icarus’ little quirk grew on him, and occasionally he would relish it, whetting it. It was only a few months ago that he aimed his unremarkable eyes with a rather poignantly piercing intention upon something. Someone. He examined the tall, but elegantly simple gates to the city of The Pen. The city he had stalked for weeks now like a beggar-mime and a forgotten spy. Before he ever wrote a word, he prowled these streets, the outstretches; watching and waiting. The nights were cold and solitary. He loved it. And yet, from these weeks of observation, realization, intrigue and confusion, he had learned nothing of the one he had been told about. The one who was slain by his own hand. The one who was exiled from this place. This place, beyond these doors, and within the hands and minds of it’s inhabitants. Who are they, he thought. Why was I sent here. Wistfully, and absent-mindedly he read the scratch marks on the large door with his fingers, just below the giant rusting knocker. The scratch marks began ferocious and desperate, but fade away, he thought, as if this beast or human fell to the mud in exhaustion, in forced retirement, to be swallowed up by any vile creatures of the filth who may find him. Laying here, less than dirt, less than weeds, and friendless enough to be buried alive; visible but ignored. Why was I sent here, he nagged himself. He roused himself back to consciousness by the sound of a crow cawing overhead, flying towards the forrest that lay several miles west of here. Another night of observation of the city from the outer walls didn’t excite him terribly, he wanted in. His purpose wasn’t so much to be heard as it was to get an insider’s view on the people here. From within his moth-eaten pocket, he conjured a list of names written on the back of a page torn from his old journal. He wondered if they were even still alive, much less living here. Here goes…everything, he thought, as he reached for the rusting gold ring that was the knocker. Let’s just hope someone’s home. Email: AncientAutumn@opendiary.com
Canid Posted October 30, 2002 Report Posted October 30, 2002 "I wouldn't touch that if I were you." warned a very odd voice with bell-like elegance and a pristine, though unique, accent. Icarus turned around and peered into the trees for the voice's owner. There was a large green bird watching him as far as he could see, but that was- The bird cut off his thoughts by pointing to something gray moving swiftly toward the spot from the trees. "One of the wolves has it booby-trapped." said the bird in the same accent while at the same time the gray form parted from the trees and sat elegantly down to watch him. The bird turned to the wolf, "Prospero set another trap - intended for Wyvern unless I'm mistaken, so I've been watching over it to make sure noone else steps into it." The wolf made a face and spoke in an even more strange accent which was never-the-less understandable. "You shouldn't let him put traps out for Wyvern." "Wyvern tried to hook Prospero up to a dogsled and sell him to a group of Inuit." The wolf opened its muzzle, paused and closed it. "Follow me sir." it said to Icarus, leading him around to a side entrance.
SoaringIcarus Posted October 30, 2002 Author Report Posted October 30, 2002 Who is Prospero, thought Icarus. Perhaps that could be the name of the one who… “Follow me sir.” Said the wolf with the accent, leading him to what appeared to be a side-entrance. “Why not.” Icarus thought aloud. He followed the strange wolf, and glanced at the very large green bird, nodding his head in respect. He had seen this bird before. But he didn’t think the bird had seen him. Perhaps… "This way" said the wolf, as Icarus stepped up to a less descript wooden door. "This is it? This is the entrance to the city? To your city?" "Well, it’s one of many ways. This is how we’ll be getting in." "But I thought Wyvern or another Elder had to approve of this?” his heart accelerated for a moment as the thought of another bad start and another unclean slate entered his mind. He’d had enough of that, and it was time he had been able to live in peace. Then and only then… He palmed the crumpled list in his pocket. The sky let out a muddy but distinct groan of thunder, and everyone’s face flickered toward an instant of lightening appearing on the horizon, miles off. ”We’d best get moving” said Icarus. “And for my purposes, it would be pleasant to know whether I’ll be going in, with you, or...” He gestured to the forest. The chorus of grasshoppers etched a nightmarish undertone as the first pelt of rain hit his cheekbone emphatically. His face did not flinch. Edited by: SoaringIcarus at: 10/30/02 3:04:11 pm
Canid Posted October 30, 2002 Report Posted October 30, 2002 The wolf looked quite upbeat and licked a few raindrops off its muzzle with a smile. "Of course you'll be coming in, only a few parts of the Pen are off limits until you are approved." The wolf led Icarus down a few halways, past a protrait that waved at them (though the rubber chickens featured in the huge painting all squinted suspiciously) and into an extremely messy lounge. At one end of the room was a scratched up door with the words "Elder of Init ates - W ve n" on it in gold-painted plastic. "This is where you wait to be seen by Wyvern, the elder of initiates." explained the wolf pointing toward a cushy chair with her tail. "How do you know Eleanor?" it asked curiously. "Eleanor?" "The phoenix," the wolf waited, "the green bird outside. She is my pet Phoenix and has been so for quite some time."
SoaringIcarus Posted October 30, 2002 Author Report Posted October 30, 2002 Icarus' heart skipped a beat. Eleanor he thought..Eleanor is a name I havn't heard in a long time, much less suspected to belong to a bird, as well.. It's nothing. Just a cooincidence. He blinked. "Oh. I have been watching this place for some time now; I've seen you and your phoenix occasionally. I did not know her name was Eleanor." He hesitated for a moment. "She's very beautiful." And he trailed off, in distraction. "I forgot to thank you." He remarked. "For...not leaving me to sleep in the rain." "Think nothing of it." the wolf replied, cheerfully. For a moment he studied the room; slightly disheveled but forming some kind of chatoic order. Despite it's foreign personality, it felt comfortable, he decided. The lull in the moment grew too loud, so he ventured to break it... "How do you like it here?" He asked the wolf, feeling each syllable sound more ignorant than the previous one. He wriggled his toes in his boots, anxiously.
Canid Posted October 31, 2002 Report Posted October 31, 2002 The wolf grinned. It wasn't a normal grin of simple comedy. It was a toothy, wolfy grin, and one of the strangest things Icarus had ever seen: insane, scary, and somehow happy at the same time. "Terra as it was known collapsed. Ever since then, the Pen has become my home. I have a den here and have been working to restore the forests around to something of their pre-Mari beauty." The wolf paused. "My name is Canid Phoenix Canidae." She tilted its head to the side. "What do you know of Eleanor?" OOC: Three little notes here: Eleanor is a well established character that has kept company with Canid for nearly 3000 years and has always been a phoenix... you need to know that. I am not bending your writing, Canid picks up people's thoughts if they aren't hidden. If you have any kind of IRC chat server, the Pen (if you didn't know) has a chat-room on the Galaxynet server called #thepen which I highly recomend attending if you'd like to get to know who's who.
SoaringIcarus Posted October 31, 2002 Author Report Posted October 31, 2002 "Pleased to meet you, Canid." Icarus said, feeling somewhat embarassed. "It's quite pleasant to have someone so willing to help someone as strange and terribly novice as I. My name is Icarus." Icarus noted the wolf's toothy grin with interest as it indeed was a strange sight. He wondered if the wolf had eaten anyone recently, or ever found reason to. He imagined the wolf sunbathing on the edge of the forrest, in deep summer heat, with Eleanor the peacock perched with an omnicient glaze to her presence, nearby. No, he thought... I really don't know... anything about this wolf or the bird. "What do I know of Eleanor? Little more than her appearance and companionship with you." He admitted, speculating their speculation. He really needed to cut that out. The only thing it ever accomplished was additional generalizations, useless theories and big fat lulls. Lots of blinking was accomplished during these lulls. Icarus noted that Canid never mentioned if she liked it here or not. He stored this information in the miscellaneous vault of his memory for trivial things. "And while I'm already professing my novice-hood, would you unabbreviate 'OOC' for me, please?"
Canid Posted October 31, 2002 Report Posted October 31, 2002 "Eleanor is a Phoenix, not a peacock, and I use home as an affectionate term." said the wolf, off-handedly scratching her ear with a hind paw. "I hear Wyvern..." the wolf twitched the other ear. OOC: OOC stands for out of character, IC for in character.
SoaringIcarus Posted October 31, 2002 Author Report Posted October 31, 2002 OOC: Will I survive on this website for more than a handful of posts without knowing any of it's history, or characters? *he says, meanwhile scrambling to get to that IRC chat* IC: "My appologies. I meant no offense in calling Eleanor a peacock instead of a phoenix. It's been a long journey." He offered, shrugging. Edited by: SoaringIcarus at: 10/30/02 11:05:43 pm
Peredhil Posted October 31, 2002 Report Posted October 31, 2002 Welcome! If you need a scorecard of who's who, I'd suggest diverting your attention to the Assembly Room, and checking out the Many Rooms of the Mighty Pen. It might be helpful. Or not. I'm really not certain. With a Polite hug for Icarus and ear-scritching for Canid, he wanders away again. "A man's judgment is best when he can forget himself and any reputation he may have acquired and can concentrate wholly on making the right decisions." -ADM Raymond A. Spruance
Wyvern Posted November 1, 2002 Report Posted November 1, 2002 Through the pouring rain of the enormous storm that had gathered outdoors, the sounds of rapidly moving wheels and the cracking of a whip can be heard. These sounds grow louder and louder as they approach the Mighty Pen Keep, and eventually another very distinct sound begins to be heard... the disgruntled oinking of pigs... Sitting in his large pig driven chariot, Wyvern lets his whip crack down once again on the 12 pigs pulling his cart. The overgrown lizard had wanted a wolf driven cart, but unfortunatly Prospero didn't seem to buy into his idea and the other wolves he had gathered had revolted against him after that... Stuck far away from the Pen with no mode of transportation, Wyvern had been forced to steal some pigs from a nearby farm to use as animals to pull his chariot. It's true that they didn't run as fast as wolves... but they were better than nothing... Cursing to himself while wiping the pouring rain from his face, Wyvern yells at the pigs: "Can't you run any faster?!!!!" The dismal pigs oink loudly in response, and three of them slip and collapse onto the muddy ground ahead of them. These oinking sounds alert a large wild boar that had been positioned by Prospero near the outskirts of the Pen as a booby trap... Noticing Wyvern's abuse of innocent pigs, the boar becomes enraged and immediatly rushes from it's hiding place in front of the chariot, snorting furiously and baring it's tusks... Upon seeing the vicious boar, many of the pigs chained to the front of the chariot squeal with delight while Wyvern's jaw drops open in horror. Deciding it would be best not to stick around in his cart, the overgrown lizard jumps off of his chariot and runs towards the Mighty Pen as fast as his scaly legs can carry him. The enraged boar immediatly begins chasing after him, determined to wreak vengeance upon the greedy lizard. Wyvern eventually reaches the main doors of the Mighty Pen Keep, and bangs on them frantically using the golden handle. This sets off another of Prospero's traps, and an entire line of fine sausages which are attached to the top of the door fall onto Wyv before a trap door opens underneath the lizard's feet and he's sent plummeting into a pit filled with ravenous wolves... The wild boar jumps in after him, still determined to tear the lizard to shreds... Prospero, who watches Wyvern's misfortunes from a distance, laughs to himself as the overgrown lizard get's exactly what he deserves... His laughter is cut short, however, as he shoved to the side by an angry mob of farmers holding pitchforks and torches who are headed towards the Pen. The farmers were in search of the thief that had stolen their pigs, and had traced Wyvern's footprints up to this point. Shouting directions to one another, the mob make their way to the trap door that Wyvern fell into only to be suddenly attacked by several ravenous wolves! At the exact same moment, Wyvern bursts out of the trap door, riding on the back of an uncontrolable wild boar and screaming... Extremely furious now, the boar upon which Wyvern rides lets out an angry snort and crashes directly through the main doors of the Pen. It dashes through the halls of the mighty Guild until it finally reaches Wyvern's Office, at which point the beast spots Melba the Almost-Secretary of Initiates and stops dead in it's path. Mistaking Melba for a bloated pig, the wild boar falls in love at first sight and stands motionless while gazing at her... Wyvern takes this opportunity to fall off of the boar's back, and crawls into his Office where SoaringIcarus and Canid have been waiting for him. "A-ACCEPTED..." manages Wyvern, before collapsing into a state of unconsciousness... OOC: On a more serious note, an ACCEPTED application Icarus. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! You questioned earlier whether or not you'd survive on a website where you're not aquainted with many of the characters, and I can assure you you can, even without the use of chat. The Pen is made not only for role playing but for all forms of creative writing, and we're a very friendly and open community. I'm certain you'll become better aquainted with the rest of us as you continue to post here, and would recommend reading the list of descriptions and histories of characters found in the Greenroom if you'd like a headstart. Once again, welcome! ------------------------------ 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: 11/1/02 12:21:39 am
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