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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Posted

Gyrfalcon hands Tralla a riding crop, then darts back when she tries to smack him with it.

They made you an Elder for a reason. I'm just not sure what that reason was...
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Posted

They made you an Elder for a reason.  I'm just not sure what that reason was...

To annoy as many of you as possible as quickly and efficiently as possible.

 

...Would there be any other reason?

 

:P:D:P

Posted

I really like the length allowed in these custom titles

 

Jon corrals a bunch of little :rolleyes:'s into the ranch

 

And no, I'm not going to show you each one. This corral is run by a representative system! :P:)

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am that is!

Posted

oh! oh!

*runs in, trips, flutters her wings a bit*

 

I'm here!!!

:butterfly:

 

 

errm.....

can I have the title of like, erm....

The Pen's Angel with the Tarnished, Slightly Tilted Halo?

heheh

or something along those lines

Posted

*Signe wanders in with a small mainly white calico kitten on one shoulder and a tiny coal black kitten with bright blue eyes on the other. She smiles at all of her old friends and curls up with her new babies*

Posted

Dirt and a coffin lid explode into the air, knocking flat a small,

moldering cardboard marker. Amidst the rain of soil, the lid falls, spins thrice on a corner, then too falls, still.

 

Several seconds pass before a figure clad in midnight blue slowly raises itself upright in the open grave. In one smooth motion, the stranger brushes the last dirt clods from whitening grey hair with one hand and flicks detritus from elegant robes with the other.

 

Steely blue eyes gaze analytically out of an olive face, then cross as the olive sking turns bright red and the man begins making small choking noises accompanied by frantic gesturing. Finally, he spits up a huge, wet dirt clod

onto the ground.

 

"Fine way to hibernate. That is the LAST time I use Vlad as a travel agent for some R&R," he mutters to himself.

 

 

Merry met, One and all. It's good to be back.

Posted

As the vampire is busily running around trying to sell people cheap gimmicky resort spots he hears a coffin stirring. Glancing at his watch he notes that one Ozymandias was due out of the coffin two weeks ago.

 

Approaching the Elder with a grim smile Vlad states "You are two weeks late! That coffin could have been rented out to other customers. I'll have to charge you an extra... say seve- no eight hundred thousand geld."

 

The digruntled customer mumbles something about Wyvern being a bad role-model on the younger members and angrilly stomps off.

 

As the Elder is fleeing, Vlad makes a desperate last attempt. "We have some nice openings in Transylvania! Very private rooms, and iron maidens for your enemies!"

 

Hearing this, Ozymandias turns and shoves Vlad's head into said iron maidens and trudges off in search of Wyvern.

 

Only moments after Ozy leaves, a familiar almost-draginic figure approaches Vlad.

 

"Sssee, what you did wrong wasss you that you weren't persssissstent enough."

Posted

Icarus nonchalantly strolls out of the dark forrest in which he has embeded himself, since the turn of the New Year. He is so casual, infact, that one might need a second glance to observe the haphazard twigs in his dusty hair and clothes.

 

'Afternoon, gents and ladies. A respectful nod. Nice new digs we got here, huh? Props.

 

Icarus clears his throat for his first Roll Call; he wants to use his boomy voice. He practiced it earlier today, while ordering pizza.Icarus just opens his mouth to proclaim his name and rank when he spots :woot: a PLASMA DRAGON! :dragon:He giddily hops atop this PLASMA DRAGON!, riding it like a bucking bronco around a far corner of trees, and out of sight. His yips of terror and excitement fade into the wind not long after.

 

 

Just as any or all onlookers were hobbeling away (including the tap-dancing phoenix :phoenix: ) Blueish cumulus clouds begin raining a few dozen large, white feathers. There are so few, one might think an angel were plucked, or molted. But when examined quite carefully, one was able to read on the largest feather:

 

Soaring Icarus. Page of The Mighty Pen.

Posted

Here I stand, in tones of black and white, my head hung in shame, yet again so late to such an important occasion as the unveiling of this fine establishment.

 

My standing is that of humble 'Page'... a scribe of pitiful consistency. (Just never seems to be enough days in the hour!)

 

*takes a look around

 

Truly a wonderful place....

 

:wolf:

Posted

Fighting desperately, Tamaranis lands several telling blows against various assignments, and real life retreats. It does not go far however, just out of sight it lurks. Waiting.

 

My old rank was Weenie Awardee, and for a custom title... I'll get back to you on that.


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