Norman

Norman paused "A tree? what, like you mean those leafy things that are always in the way and growing everywhere even when you cut them all down?" "Well should I have to discribe them, I would say..... hang on.... thats not the game." Norman thought a moment, "Right then, your turn its what it seems to be The due description of a tree, not from you and not from me, but from the viewpoint of the tree." Norman paused again, comtemplating the challenge, "and maybe from the point of view of the squirrel that lives in the top left hand branchof it too." -Norman (ooc: thank you Gwaihir, welcome to the game.)

Small slice of tasted happiness Leaves behind my death of thirst, Its taste so sweetly had me fooled, Its flavour over my senses ruled. All I drink turns to dust, Flavours of the world dismissed, Mirrored in the single wall, No way back, from here I fall. -Norman

If the sun rose today, I did not see The clouds parted to all but me Wrapped in a shroud I beg ethereality None shall see me, I shall look no more upon this world, None shall hold me, Into my fortress I have crawled. Build of the stone of my heart, Hardened by the kilns of loss Open fire my noon day sky Bleaching my soul, alone I die. -Norman

I lived today, for tomorrow’s dream I could see, I lived today, for hope held my eternity, I lived today, for all I wished seemed to be, I lived today, for love stood beside me I died today, for all I see cannot be. -Norman

Thank you

*applauds* wonderful Ozy sir!! wonderfully done! *Norman looks around* so, who will be next then? -Norman

Why is a raven like a writing desk? when i would say and you may agree, each moment with one is an eternity, and from each when you hit a wall, is heard the utterance, "nevermore" But that is for you to say, in verse of rhyme for us today, or in a story you could suggest, how to use a raven as a desk. -Norman (occ: Thank you Ozy, please PM me if i confuse anyone, but write a piece on ravens and desks)

Drapes drawn on the world, In the dark I sit at watch the flame, Sipping slowly on the cup I hold, Wishing solace from this pain. Sweetened wormwood maps my heart Breaking down my lonely resolve, Though I though we would never part, Like the morning mists it did dissolve. Slow burn of ethers sipped in pain Flavours of the ancient world Placing me with in the frame Separate from all I wish to hold. Dip my finger in the cup, Liquid cools the skin, Fire licks and laps it up, I seek to burn again. Raise the bottle to my lips, Let the contents spill, Seeking gentle dreamless bliss I drink beyond my fill. Soak my skin as I sip, Wash the pain away, Pour it slow and let it drip, Drench my all I pray. Drapes drawn on the world, In the dark I sit at watch the flame, Contents of the cup I hold, Drip slowly from my frame. Reaching out I touch the light, Watch it dance upon my palm, See it weave in deep delight, Whispering sweetly through my calm. I watch the dancing kisses sweet, Drink with me tonight, I feel the touch of pain retreat, Beneath each dancing sprite. Drapes drawn on the world, In the dark I sit at watch the flame, Clinging to every finger hold, As my tears wish for rain. -Norman

Norman looks up at the Raven on his head. "I believe you are the first to play, my dear feather duster, so here's your gig, simple as can be, write a poem for me, or a story, on why we have no bust of Pallas." Turning to the crowd again, the diminuative orc looks around, "right, who's next?" -Norman (ooc: see how its gonna work? now come ask me a question? please?)

Norman jumps onto the espresso machine that quietly hums and steams in the corner.... "Gather round, gather round, come closer all of you." "It seems there need within the walls to introduce an element of chaotic wordplay." are there any questions before we begin? -Norman (ooc: consider this a warning of more to come, sign up now by posting a question. Questions can be about anything, not necessarily about chaotic wordplay. Thank you.)

Boxes line the single wall, Compartments of the soul, Dividing up my endless thoughts That tease and torment my mind. Doors to memories buried deep Lids that chaos contain Fragile gifts I seek to keep And the thoughts that are my bane. One single box adorns the floor, At once both new and old, Treasure more than my worth Lies scattered all around Into the single box I hide, The last fragments of me, And in the dust I now reside Beside the closed eternity. No place but centered in my room No place it can be hid But closed and locked it remains Memories whispered through the lid. Boxes line the single wall Compartments of the soul And now I light and burn them down This single one now my all. -Norman

This ruin was once my solitude, The stone of a tormented youth, Forging the walls of hidden life, Holding me secure within. This ruin was once my world, The stone of completed growth, All I wished I held inside, Discarding all I didn’t want. This ruin is now my destiny, Slowly I rebuild my walls, Your love that once removed them, Has now left me exposed. This ruin will be my fortress, Again it shall stand tall, Each brick replaced reinforcing, I am better off alone. -Norman

What word would make this dream live? What utterance of despair could revive? My world could not buy its form, My incompleteness Curse of selfish ignorance. Where could I live, to find hope? Where could my weary feet carry me? My path tumbles downward now Life’s precipice Carries me from bliss. Who can give me the gift of all? Who could my shattering reform? My life flows on in turbulence A river so red Echo of my lost heartbeat. When did my life depart the world? When did my heavens turn so cold? My clouds cannot hide the dark Starless void The mirror of my broken soul. How can I continue in this place? How can sorrow be displaced? My tears bleed it away Endless flood Deepest pool In my emptiness drained away. -Norman

“See, I wanna really make it clear, it was no ordinary party, right.” The small orc took control of the table that seemed remarkably empty. The shadows shifted uneasily in their seats. “I mean, look, they says it was a dress up, says come as something like, with a mask on and stuff. So I did, sorta.” Norman continued to discuss the issue at hand ignoring the shadows attempts to find an excuse to leave. The diminutive orc rummaged in the beautifully groomed (no visible holes) jacket he was wearing and drew out a small flask. Opening it he made move to take a sip, pausing midway to his lips the attempt ended in the start of another outbreak of recollections from the previous night, complete with flask gesturing widely between uncompleted pauses to take a drink. “They’d says ‘Burlesque’, so I says what’s that? and they says sorta top hat and tails and frills and lace and stuff, so I says ‘what, like I got on now sorta thing?’ and they says, ‘well, sorta, yeah, I suppose” Norman replaced the flask in his tails without actually taking a sip and continued, “I mean, the point of a dress up is to dress up, not just go as you own self, ain’t it?” Norman stands on the chair and displays the tails and dons the top hat, both are far too large and the top hat successfully covers Norman’s existing bowler hat that has yet to be removed. He does a half turn. “I mean I sorta liked it right, looks rather smart and” Norman points to the frayed edges, “It’s sorta frilly, right?” The shadows weren’t looking. “I suppose I shoulda used a different mask.” The small orc sighed. “I mean, like honest, I didn’t see anything wrong with it. Its not like I hurt it either, its still alive and ok may need a bit of help tidying up and I may need to use a razor and stuff, but I didn’t hurt it.” Norman was in full rant again with the flask being slowly withdrawn from the inside pocket and getting caught in the full swing of exasperation. “They says, ‘that’s mean’ they says, I mean all of them right, they says ‘that’s not nice’, and ‘poor thing’, and ‘how could you’ and its not like it was having to work at holding on or anything, I mean I used a good amout of tape and some rope to keep it in place, right, and yeah it was maybe a bit tight but it had to be to hold it in place just right so it look mask-like and I didn’t hurt it, just” Norman paused, “I coulda maybe tied it up without using a noose to hold it to the hat, but I gave it a drink when it stopped struggling and fed it nibbles too.” Norman sighed again and looked at the remarkably empty table; the shadows had turned around to watch the dust falling. “I suppose I should let it go now, party‘s over and all.” Norman rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a ball of tape and rope and began slowly undoing it. The muffled squeaks as the tape was removed indicated something was not quite in as innocent as it seemed. One of the shadows turned around, in time to see a small disheveled form scurry away at high speed. Norman took the sip of his flask that he had been threatening to take since he had sat down, “Last time I use a guinea pig for a mask I can tell you.” -Norman

I cannot write, I have no words left to say, Though in the dreams I hold, I have the wisdom to call In this mortal void, There is no wisdom, Just the sword on which I fall. Though the pen be my solitude, The fortress of my soul’s design, I cannot cure this, the words elude, My voice dry, desiccated upon the air. My blood will not flow, no ink can I spill. The words of my soul’s quill, Cannot sound for they are not written, Just scratches upon my eyes To blind me, and hide reality’s vision. Melt back into darkness my sweet gift, Go back to the shadows and enjoy your death, No words can be spilled then, fed by my soul, No tears can be shed then, drawn by my quill. Let my soul free from is talent less task Let me breath free from this awen at last. I cannot write, I have no words left to say, Though in my dreams I hold, Until the day my dream is told The blade within my soul shall dip No inked nib my soul will speak Mere pain cutting deep ‘Til time again awakes My gift shall sleep -Norman My thanks to you oh mighty Almost Dragon, last two lines never really worked right, see, so a bit of time and fresh eyes and well, sorta nailed the image to the mind so to speak and lets it fall to the page better. I do appreciate the critique, my thanks to you. -Norman

I cannot write, I have no words left to say, Though in the dreams I hold, I have the wisdom to call In this mortal void, There is no wisdom, Just the sword on which I fall. Though the pen be my solitude, The fortress of my soul’s design, I cannot cure this, the words elude, My voice dry, desiccated upon the air. My blood will not flow, no ink can I spill. The words of my soul’s quill, Cannot sound for they are not written, Just scratches upon my eyes To blind me, and hide reality’s vision. Melt back into darkness my sweet gift, Go back to the shadows and enjoy your death, No words can be spilled then, fed by my soul, No tears can be shed then, drawn by my quill. Let my soul free from is talent less task Let me breath free from this awen at last. I cannot write, I have no words left to say, Though in my dreams I hold, Until the day my dream is told I shall not sing, I shall not sing. -Norman

Norman eyed the boney feet with caution, his mind already touching on the fact that this was going to look like he was fishing for kittens if on of them looked up... Norman looked down, watching the flapping of the sneezing raven and the many kittens watching it, or swatting playfully at its beak. His eyes met with a kitten's.... Norman panniced, held up his hands and shook his head furiously (jiggling the catnip bait), "oi no, it aint me luv, serious, it aint me, i would never fish for your kittens luv honest, it the small boney feet doing it.... " Norman looked up, there were no feet on his hat, there was a fishing rod, but no feet.... From the corner there can the drift of a very amused "SQUEAK"

THe sea of kittens ebbed and flowed over the floor, swirling around the table and the discarded pack of Norman's orcish belongings. Bobbing in the middle was a very fluffed and ruffled bird randomly sneezing and flapping discordently with the tumble of the mug that he was stuck to. Norman paddled his way to the mug, being dunke dby the pouncing waves of fur that caught him occasionally. Norman kicked the mug onto its base, the raven went under again and flapped franticly against the floor as the added weight of Norman pinned the mug down and provided an island of sorts in the midst of the swirling fur.

The Wyvern thrown shoe hits Norman square on the eartangling in the brim of his bowler hat and pushing it low over his eyes blinding him. The stumble caused by the impact of the shoe shifts the weight just a bit too far on the top of the pack causeing it to role slowly into the kittens. Norman struggles with his hat as he falls into the waiting paws. "oweeee! oi kitty get this lot off me" Mynx looks up from her coffee? "pardon?" "sory luv, oh wonderful feline kittyfolk wonderful graceful, oh''eck with it just get this lot off me!!"

Norman beamed a gigling smile at the feline, "glad you asked luv, see the orc cavalry, that wanted to use me as a canon ball, had a wee accident on the ridges by a dragon den, sorta an unplanned encounter with an angry dragon who had somehow got the notion that they was after his treasure as such, so after a short scuffle the orc survivor, me, retraeted, having thanked the dragon fo the meal and hospitality, and i managed to collect a small protion of what the dragon didnt eat, if you take my meaning." Norman took a breath and continued, "so yeah, i got a bundle of them to throw, and a few small balls to dunk the bird with too."

Norman stood on his pack bransishing his set of horse shoes. "Ladies and gentle pennites, roll up roll up, the challenge of the day has begun, 5 geld for 3 throws, teat yous skill at the flapping of the bird brain." Casually tossing the third shoe at the neck of the raven the small orc grinned at the bird now with 3 horese shoes hooked neatly on his neck. "Roll up rooll up, try you luck, give me your geld and take a shot, the bird can flap its all he knows, toss a shoe and 50 points for his nose." Norman throws a small wooden ball at the beak of the Raven clonking it neatly on the tip and sending the bird toppling into the kittens below. As soon as the Raven regains his pecarious balanced on the top of the mug, Norman repeats the shot, dunking him neatly back into the awaiting horde of fur.

"Raven, shift it, git off, move!!" Norman kicked his other leg around, while trying not to jostle the Raven with the hot coffee too much. THe Raven balanced and sipped the coffee, savouring the blend that he knew was one of Mynx's favourite. He was rather surprised at the lack of treacle, and pleased, although the kittens seemed to be getting more tightly packed around his perch. The last sip of coffee finished the Raven experienced a dawning of comprehension as the small orc, one hand finally free of the tangle of straps grabbed the rim of the mug and shook it hard while similtaniously kicking his legs. The Raven dislodged from his perch flapped franticly and grabbed hold of the handle of the mug with both feet, holding on tight, just as the orc threw the mug over his headonto the horde of kittens. The mug and attached bird landed in a pool of fur, claws gripping the cup as the raven franticly tried to take off and get clear of the kittens. "atchoo!!" the Raven sneezed as his eyes began to water with the close contact of kitten fur took full advantage of his allergies. Norman struggled free and sat neatly on top of his pack. Pulling out a set of horse shoes he tossed one casually at the flapping Raven and watched it catch and spin around the avian pennites neck. "oh come on bird, give it some effort, you making this to easy on me by far."

"Oi git off!!" Norman kicked his legs trying to dislodge the Raven. The Raven flapped and struggled in mock horror... "help help I am stuck to his foot" the sarcasm was evident to everyone but Norman who took it rather as a compliment on the army grade foot protection gel (pond slime) that the raven could very well be stuck to. "Ok hold still" The Raven stopped flapping and looked at norman in the quizzical manner of a bird that just realised the orc mssed the sarcasm. Norman kicked his leg suddenly, sending the raven tumbling into the air again. "i suggest you dont go landing anyplace to soon bird." The Raven pulled out of the landing attempt and glided a circle aroung the wriggling orc, "why?" Norman grinned, "well bird, see that pond scum we use as foot protecting gell is used cause it dont stick to an orc's fine and delicate skin. But, you see, you aint an orc are ya? you likely to be looking for a bath soon, cause that stuff gonna stick to feathers worse that treacle, and be much less tasty to clean off" The Raven landed on the orc's bare foot again.. "so, you saying this is my best option of a perch then? Norman wriggled, "oi bird, git off!!"

It was early twilight and the diminutive orc struggled through the keep carrying a pack twice the size of himself. His ambling shuffle punctuated by various muttered complaints regarding the orcish idea of a training camp... the use of small orcs as cannon fodder.... the use of smaller orcs as canon balls..... the hard wall of the cliff that large orcs aim small orc canon balls at for fun.... and they wonder why small orcs use large orcs as bait for dragons that they have no real interest in hunting but are fun to watch chasing large orcs.... Norman pushed his way through the door of the caberet room, set his pack down by a corner table and lay on top of it with his legs oin the air. What any observant watcher may have witnessed was the small orc trip fall and roll to the top of hi pack stuck wriggling with his feet in the air... It was on one of these wriggling feet that The Raven landed... the two small pennites eyed each other.... Norman struggled to get his arms free from the straps of the pack... "move bird, or i will use you as a dusted for my boots!"

I just here to play your game, i just find your use of profanity a shame. -Norman