Gyrfalcon

Gyrfalcon cleared his throat as the Cabaret Room slowly filled. "Thank you all for coming here. Wyvern has... convinced me..." he breaks off as Wyvern cheered, shaking his hands together in a fist above his head. "Quiet in the peanut gallery, Wyv." Wyvern lowered his hands and blushed a little, his red scales turning a bit brighter across his cheeks. Daryl chuckled from where he sat next to the Almost-Dragon. "Anyway, before Wyvern interrupted me... Wyvern convinced me to use an experimental Almost-Dragonic Product... the Almost Dragonic Name Discombobulater." Gyrfalcon said. At the mention that Wyvern's product was the object sitting on the stage beside Gyrfalcon, several members of the crowd began to discreetly back up, raise wards, or eye their seats for the potential to take cover. Wyvern stood up "Yes, for only 100,000 geld per minute of use, this finely crafted Almost Dragonic-" "No Wyv, you lent it to me, remember? Free of charge?" Gyrfalcon said. "Oh... yah." Wyvern said, deflating as he sat down again, the fox next to him snickering louder. "Now, now... Wyv's assured me that it won't explode... this time, so let's get this show on the road, shall we? For the purposes of this demonstration, we chose a random selection of Pennites to use with this, so without further ado..." Gyrfalcon said, tapping a name into the machine and pressing the button. The machine clanked and rattled and bounced side to side before unsteadily printing out a sheet of paper. "Wow... it worked." Gyrfalcon said, taking the sheet. "Our first Pennite run through this machine is Dros. According to it, his name is pronounced 'Drooz,' and meant to imply droozing on Almost Dragonic Brand Investments™. Stop sleeping and smell the coacoa beans, there's geld to be had!" "A famous Dros in history would be the Dros that came about when tribe of drow elves disowned Wyvern's Almost Dragonic Brand Webcrawler Search Drow-ser Engine™ by dropping the 'W' from the name of their race. The claims were fabricated, as the Drow-ser remains 'The Search Engine that Sticks' to this day!" Gyrfalcon lowered the sheet to look at Wyvern as the chuckling and snickers moved through the crowd. Wyvern fidgeted with his claws and gave Gyrfalcon a thumbs up to continue. The half-elf set the page aside and looked at Wyvern. "Are you sure this is working right?" Wyvern raised a thumb "Of course it is! Keep going!" he shouted, grinning nervously. Gyrfalcon shook his head and typed another name into the machine. The bouncing had increased, and inside, the sound of small parts bouncing around could be heard. Despite that, the machine dutifully produced the next sheet. "For Lone Shadow, this device says says that this name stems from the words 'Loan' (Lone) and 'Shady Business Exec' (Shadow). It first began to be used when the Great Imperial Almighty Wyvern discoevered that taxing shadows was a perfectly legitimate form of extortion." The laughter was growing, but Gyrfalcon pressed on with a smirk on his face, holding back his own chuckles at the results of Wyvern's machine. "A famous Lone Shadow in history is the future shadow of the only person who didn't invest in Almost Dragonic Brand Ultraviolent Ogre Darkrooms™. That person will also probably be behind on paying their shadow taxes." Gyrfalcon grinned. "Moving right along, we come to mai_takekaze." The machine churned back and forth like a washer with an off-balance load, and faint wisps of smoke rose from the corners. The next sheet came out with a corner singed. "mai_takekaze, Wyvern's machine stats that your name means '"Get that thing away from me." Gyrfalcon said, then broke off and looked at Wyvern. "Weren't you working on this while Stoomp had the Travel Log in your office with you?" Wyvern twiddled his claws more quickly. "Maaaaybe." "Ah... that'd explain it." Gyrfalcon said, lifting the paper again to read from it. ""This name is related to the famous Almost Dragonic slogan 'me take kazee,' a loose toglyodyte slang concerning Almost Dragonic Brand Krazy Fish Stench Sewage Aftershave™. A famous use of the slogan involved a troglyodyte wading in a pirahna-infested stream, but that's another story." Wyvern piped up "On sale now at your local Almost Dragonic Almost New Book Store! Only 500 geld for this riveting novel!" Gyrfalcon set the sheet on top of the first two. "The next Pennite we'll be testing with this machine is srsizzy." This time, the machine didn't bounce, it shook violently, smoke streaming up from every crack. The paper didn't arrive singed, it came with one corner burning merrily, and Gyrfalcon had to quickly snuff the flame before the paper was lost to it. "This thing is safe, right Wyv?" Gyrfalcon asked suspiciously. "Perfectly!" Wyvern said with a queasy grin as the machine continued to smoke. Sighing, the half-elf raised the page with the charred corner and read "Srsizzy, your name... according to Wyv's machine... means 'serious sizzling,' and is being considered being used as a key name in the advertising of Almost Dragonic Brand Avian Flying Pans™ (buy one now, and recieve free scalding hot oil-in-a-pot!). It originates from the from the historical figure Sir Sizzle, a chef who innovated in the culinary arts of frying until he found himself in a giant's stirfry." "Now, there's only one more person to try with this machine... hopefully it'll hold up." Gyrfalcon typed in the name and stepped back prudently as the machine shook violently, gouts of smoke rising from every opening. "I suggest we take cover now." Gyrfalcon said, stepping off the stage and ducking. The rest of the crowd followed suit, as the trembling increased with a rising whine. The machine shook and bounced in place for a long minute before settling down. Daryl peeked over the edge of the chair in front of him, and then a premonition of danger made him duck again. The machine exploded violently, parts whirling in every direction. Wards sparked here and there as flying pieces brushed the top of them, but eventually the cataclysm ended, and everyone came out of hiding. Gyrfalcon stared at the stage and then sighed as he saw the blackened spot where the machine once was. "Wyv, you do know that's being added to your debt, right?" Wyvern whimpered and nodded. Gyrfalcon sighed. "Well, I was going to offer one last person, but-" he said, breaking off as something landed on his head. He reached up and took one last sheet of paper, somehow untouched by the explosion that ejected it from Wyvern's machine. "Well, guess I can." Gyrfalcon said, jumping back onto the stage. "Zepheri! Your name means... according to the pile of scrap to my right... means that 'Flight of the Zephyr' may have at least one natural admirer! The name first came about when a child named Zeph was born with hair already on his head, though his existence proved to be a rather ephemeral affair." "A famous Zepheri in history is the notorious Zepheretic, a guy born with hair on his head who later turned against the barber nation with the aid of Almost Dragonic Brand Aristocratic Tumbleweed Wigs™. His time was shortlived, but he went out in (the latest hair) style!" Tossing the page over his shoulder, Gyrfalcon grinned. "Thank you for your good grace as the meaning of your names was mangled, I hope it was worth a bit of humor to you. The real reason you were all called here were two purposes. For many of you, it was to witness the following ceremony. For some of you, you happen to be the guests of honor to this ceremony. Dros, Lone Shadow, mai_takekaze, and srsizzy, please step up here." The four hesitantly approached the stage and eyed the still-smoldering pile of metal that had been Wyvern's machine. "To the four of you, Congratulations. You have advanced in rank and are no longer Initiates, but Pages. Congratulations, it is a promotion well-deserved, and I hope to see you continue to grow here at the Pen." Gyrfalcon said, shaking each of their hands. "And now for Zepheri! Please step up here as well." She did so hesitently. "Zepheri, you were a Page, but you likewise have advanced in rank. Congratulations, Quill-Bearer, you also deserve your new rank. I hope to read more of your story." Gyrfalcon said, shaking her hand and then gently turning the five to face the crowd. "Congratulate our new Pages and Quill-Bearer, my friends, they deserve it." Quick Edit: For anyone who's interested, I used the webpage here to generate these results. Edit #2: Wyvern has helpful extended his own efforts to make this occasion even more Almost Dragonic. Many thanks Wyv!

*half-elven hugs* Sorry to hear that Mynx, hope you get better soon.

I think a give rating is also a very good idea, along with the rest of this concept. For example, if someone wants to poke me for feedback on the technical aspects of poetry, and my feedback field lacks the number or letter for technical feedback, they can glance at that and see that I'm not comfortable providing technical feedback on poetry, but I'd be happy to give my impressions and thoughts about it.

Sure you can slam a revolving door, you just need someone in there you don't like to slam it against. Of course, the fun thing is, you can pull back on some versions and slam them from the other side. Not that I've ever done this, but I've had a vicious door or two slam me!

It all started simply enough, when you look back at it. Technician 2nd class Tomas Boswell had just opened the maintenance panel when his boss shouted for him to help out with something down the way. Sighing, he dropped his spanner back into the toolbox and went to go see what was up. However, the spanner didn't land in the tool box, but right on the edge, precariously balanced, and as the errant breath of wind that was his passage created teased it, it slowly tilted forward... right into the main power conduit. The short dimmed the lights across half the ship before the auxiliary systems caught it and rerouted the power around the interrupted conduit. But at the conduit itself, the electricity coursed and arced and flashed across the corridor, grounding itself in one of the primary computer hubs on the ship, a design flaw that had been corrected in later models. This might not have sparked catastrophe however, as its functions were picked up by the other hubs. However, one of the hubs had been suffering from slow memory degradation, and as it picked up the weapons control function, it errantly believed that it had received a signal to fire on the nearest hostile target. At the delicate peace conference the Einsworth was attending, tensions were high between the warring Earth Federation and the Xenthial Empire, and each side still had the ships of the other culture designated as hostile. The nearest hostile ship to the Einsworth was the Xenthial Empire's ambassador's shuttle. It exploded cataclysmically as the Einsworth's main weapons array locked on and fired. It was poor recompense that in the ensuing fleet action, the Einsworth was destroyed by the massed fire of no less then eight battleships. The battle spiraled out of control, and casualties reached over sixth percent for both sides before the battered fleets broke off the engagement. Among the dead was the Earth Federation's ambassador, and both sides claimed that the other had fired first. Even this disaster might have been solved, albeit after many more years of bloody battle, if the Xenthial Empire had not begun to bombard Federation planets, having decided that the Earth Federation's treacherous slaying of their ambassador of peace proved their underhanded and evil intentions once and for all. The atrocities grew and accelerated as more and more powerful weapons were funneled to the front lines. Planetary bombardments gave way to planetary annihilation, massive bombs that shattered planets like eggs, spilling out the molten mantle to freeze in the cruel grip of the universe. Planetary annihilation gave way to stellar annihilation, massed beam weapons at specific frequencies fired into sun after sun, destabilizing and aging them well beyond their time, and eventually causing them to explode into supernovas, even stars that would never have reached that phase. And finally, stellar annihilation gave way, accidentally, into universal annihilation. A desperate Earth Alliance dispatched a weapon team to the center of the galaxy, where a prototype weapon was to draw on the energy of the massed super black holes that formed the center of the galaxy and use that energy to annihilate a swath of stars four hundred light years wide and six hundred deep, carving the heart out of the Xenthial Empire. But something went wrong. The energy fed back on itself, and grew exponentially. The super black holes grew, merged, and consumed greedily, feeding on the energy they gained and reaching out to grasp more and yet more. Stars fell into their grasp, and whole systems disappeared, then whole nebulas, constellations and clusters. It happened in less then an eye blink in stellar scales, less then two centuries, and the black hole sucked in all matter, even to the farthest reaches. And then something that had never happened before - a black hole had consumed all the energy that it could contain, and it itself collapsed into a singularity, a singularity containing all the matter in the universe. And there... it waited. God looked steadily at the singularity. It was all He could do not to take His own name in vain. Billions of years of work, screwed up by one idiot maintenance worker and his metal lunch box. Sighing, He raised his arms and said concentrated on the singularity. "Right, let's do this again, and let's do it right this time." "Let there be light." And there was light.

You were born on a Friday. Your star sign is Cancer. The season was Summer. You are 22 years, 1 month, 27 days old.* It is 308 days until your next Birthday.* You are 8,092 days old.* You are approximately 194,231 hours old.* You are approximately 699,234,387 seconds old.*

Lupus knelt, grimacing as he touched the puddle of paint that had once been the vampire Choc. The vampire had been his suspect in the disappearance of Daffy, appearing as he did out of the dark, but now Choc himself had been Dipped. Standing, Lupus growled. "Alright, I could have believed Daffy had gotten himself into trouble, but now Choc as well? I don't trust this. I think we have a traitor in our midst." The gasps of shock rose around him, and he patted the air. "It's the only conclusion I can think of. Daffy disappeared... but Choc was Dipped. That means at least one of us has access to Dip, and has used it on a companion." "But... who'd do that?" Alex the Sister said, looking around nervously and drawing closer to her brother. "I don't know for sure... but I don't like the look of that blue guy over there!" Lupus said, pointing at Freakazoid. "I think we should tie him up for our own safety." OOC: Dean the Adequate / Freakazoid is accused!

Things that need fixing: (empty at the moment) Things already fixed: 1) Logo needs to be centered on the tan skin 2) Logo needs to be fixed on the blue skin and centered. 3) checkbox fixed again so that PMs will save a copy on sending.

OOC: *breaks down laughing* Very nice you two. Anyway, the answer is that we're not facing spambots, unless they've managed to work out a system that bypasses the image security code you have to enter, but people being paid to do this. =\ It sucks, and we're currently tossing around ideas to stop this in the Tower, but the advantage humans have over spambots is that it's much harder to stop a human. Right now, they seem to come from a variety of spoofed or legitimate IP addresses, which prevents us from banning a small range of IP addresses to stop them. We're looking into other ways of stopping them, from possibly banning the e-mail domains they are coming from (though that won't get them all), or placing all people registering on needing admin approval to validate their account. The downside to that is some of the spammers will still get through if they bother to be at all creative and not call themselves generic_ad_vendor_01 for example.

Gyrfalcon's eyes narrowed and he spun his blood-splashed katana through a slow loop. At his side, Daryl snarled, lips pulled back from human teeth. The demoness snickered derisively, but her laughter faltered as Daryl's snarl deepened, his face pushing out, sprouting fur, and became a fox's furred visage, his normally golden eyes turning redder as she watched. Turning his head, he looked at Tayne and his growing snarl became a roar of fury as Daryl streaked towards the already wounded bounty hunter, his rage at Salinye's treacherous injury overcoming his last self control. He went berserk. Tayne paled a bit more and dived over Keal'vera's tail as she snatched the iron rod from her bag. Muttering, it glowed and suddenly each of her arms held a barbed, jagged sword. Two of her swords clanged off of Gyrfalcon's darting katana, the other four slashing furiously at his face and shoulders. Gyrfalcon fell back quickly to avoid her blades and she slithered forward, ignoring the play of predator and prey as Daryl stalked Tayne across the room, the werefox's movements graceful and deadly, while Tayne scrambled and hurled what he could at his pursuer, bitterly wishing that he could reach his flaming sword, but Daryl's movements and the fighting of the half-elf and the demon blocked him. Gyrfalcon gave ground then counter attacked fiercely, his blade flashing and cutting, moving so quickly that Keal'vera devoted two then three then all six swords to blocking the sword master's cuts, sparks showering the floor around them as the peal of ringing steel rose in a crescendo. As she fought, she grimaced, feeling the wound in her upper right shoulder open again, black blood oozing down her arm, and the blade that arm held blocking just slightly slower, opening a hole in her defenses that would become more severe with each passing moment. Cursing, she focused her will, hoping to punch through the Pen's wards and escape. Her form shivered and blurred and then... she reappeared, shocked as the wards shifted and blocked her strongly. Frozen for a second, she barely managed to raise a sword, turning a gutting blow into a stinging, painful wound to her side. Hissing, she counterattacked furiously, driving the half-elf back and turning, pointing a hand at his door, placing a wall of spinning, slashing blades across the entrance to buy her more time... time that was rapidly running out. Grimacing in pain, she parried frantically as the ranger came back at her hard.

Overall, a good start, but as Tam suggests (or has suggested for a number of years?) Using script-style formatting is jarring. It's pretty simple to keep track between two people in a conversation (establish the first and second speaker, and they remain the same through the give and take), and you can always use identifying features to show who says what. As an example: "Don't! Don't hurt me! I...I...I'll fight you!" Travis stuttered nervously, trying to hide his fear in bravado. The woman just laughed and donned another grin. The lad was chipper...this was for sure. "The name's Crystal, and you don't have to worry, I'm not going to hurt you. What's your name?" she asked as Travis took to his feet and assumed a tough stance. In both cases, the person involved with the talking is involved - Travis after the fact as you state who's talking and also give him an action that shows how he is talking, and the woman by identifying herself in her speech.

It's a setting in the skin itself, unfortuantly. If enough people really wanted it, I suppose we could clone the skin they use most often and change that one setting back to off?

Check that. With the wildly appreciated help of Rune in guiding me as to what to change, both default skins should now have their 'save a copy of the PM' box checked. Thanks Rune! You are awesome!

Lupus doesn't have any accusations either, noone seemed to be outside before Daffy went out, and he's seen the trouble the duck could get into on his own. *grins*

I'd love to do the last one, but I think at least two or three people have gone over the admin options with a fine-toothed comb, and it's simply not a feature in the current version of the board software. =\ I agree, it's very annoying to have to remember to click the box to save your outgoing message.

Lupus scratched the back of his head "He had a fight with a pack of glitter-trailed butterflies? And lost?" Bugs shrugged "Weeeeeel.... Daffy managed to bend his beak with a pole once... over and over again." Lupus chuckled "I know, I had to keep finding new poles when he'd break them and not bend his beak." Glancing over at Alex the Brother, Lupus nodded in agreement with Alex the Sister's words. "Well... or they were glittery butterflies. Or he fought himself and lost. It's sort of up in the air."

Lupus sniffed around the feather carefully, but all he could smell was the heavy scent of Daffy's feather-care products and the sharp scent of new A.C.M.E. product. "Bleh, I can't get any scent of anyone other to Daffy... he needs... needed? to lay off on the feather conditioner." Lupus said, rubbing his nose and stepping back, standing near the fallen tree where Alex the Sister was sitting. "What I'm wondering if anyone was wandering around out here at night, I mean, it's hard to have this sort of fight with yourself, though I suppose he could have managed it..."

OOC: Well, with the ending of the carnival, so ends the carnival portion of this exercise. We still hope to complete the story, so feel free to drop in and help! IC: Mario clutched the elder night elf's hand and shook it vigoriously while the elf did his best to keep his pained expression off his face from Mario's overly powerful grip. "Thank you so much!" he burbled happily before skipping away into the underbrush... heading away from the destination the night elf had pointed out. Sighing, the younger night elf picked up the map and ran after Mario, roughly turning him and pointing him the right direction. "This way. You want to go this way." "Oh! That'sa good too." Mario said and returned to skipping... but at least going the right way this time. The night elf and blackbird exchanged long-suffering glances and followed Mario, intent on keeping the intrepid but bumbling hero from getting himself killed before he could complete his quest. Three days passed - days filled with dangers as mundane as poison ivy, or as dangerous as massive angry venus fly traps that almost made a meal of the night elf before Mario used his wand to engage in constructive deforestation and neatly removing the hostile plantlife from existence. And then... they stood outside the entrance to the almost dragon's cave, the final stage of their journey.

Lupus shook his head as Daffy finally managed to stand upright, charging forward once more and tripping over a tree root before he made fifty yards. "He never should have bought that A.C.M.E. junk. Who *makes* that stuff? I've yet to see it work right more then once out of ten times." the wolf said, walking forward at a steady pace, knowing that Daffy wouldn't get too far ahead of him, and not too eager to get started now that it was time to, well, get started. He supposed the reason he was doing this was to get some respect from his family. He might never have his cousin's acting career, but if he ended up one of the heroes of Toonland, maybe his family would finally respect him for who he was. "Hah, fat chance of that." he muttered, stepping agily over the tree roots that intruded on the forest path, perfectly placed for all sorts of comic pratfalls. Used to the snares and traps that a working toon set could produce, Lupus didn't even have to look at where to put his feet, simple tree roots were child's play compared to A.C.M.E. created props. Looking to his left and down a bit, he asked "So, why'd you join this great expedition?" to the toon walking next to him.

Bwahahahahahahaha! That's great! Very good work, Finnius, I greatly enjoyed reading this.

William stared morosely over the dragon-carved bow at the strange land ahead, steep cliffs coming straight down to the sea that crashed impotently against their stern granite faces. Behind the battered ship, the storm grumbled and growled, but sending a strong wind that filled the Stormrider's tattered sails, as if admiration of the appropriately named ship's resilience in the face of it's fury. Taking his eyes from the land they approached, William picked up the thick iron needle and began to mend the secondary sails, hoping that they could make landfall before another storm caught them on the open sea and finished what the first started. Hours later, he watched with a small amount of pride as the second sail was raised, his stitches holding fast and allowing the sail to boom in time with the gusts of wind. The Stormrider picked up speed and then a shout was heard from the splintered crow's nest above. "Land ho, bay in sight!" A ragged cheer rose from the crew, William's voice among them. A bay, as long as it wasn't protected by a reef, would provide shelter from storms while they repaired their ship and give them the opportunity to take on fresh water and food from hunting. For the first time in a week, the crew of the Stormrider looked hopefully to the horizon and worked harder to bail water from the hold and raise another sail, hoping to beat the growing storm on the horizon. William stood in the bow and watched the entrance to the bay grow wider, hands clutching the bow rail as the ship surged through the water, throwing a stinging spray of mist across his face and he grinned, feeling the salt on his cheeks crack. This was when he felt most alive, the wind blowing his hair back, the bow of the ship splitting the waves, even limping as she was, and the heady feel of freedom. "Entrance in sight! No sign of reefs yet!" the man in the crow's nest shouted hopefully, straining to stare into the water, looking for the ripples of submerged rocks or coral that would finish what the storm had started. At their backs, the black clouds rumbled ominously, and the wind grew stronger. Drawing strength from the water, the storm was returning, raging and filled with power. At least half the crew cast glances at the storm approaching, and neither the captain nor the first mate had to say anything as they tried to bail faster, adjusting the sail minutely to catch the most power from the wind. The bow of the Stormrider cut through the waves more cleanly as the crew struggled to bring her into the harbor before the storm struck. William's world became a blur of buckets, take bucket, pour it over the side. Hand empty bucket to the second line, take bucket, pour it over the side, hand bucket to the second line... "Triton protect us! A waterspout! A waterspout directly aft!" the lookout screamed, and the crew cursed, their rhythm faltering as they stared aft at the inky finger of destruction touch the water from the clouds, watching the spray rise impossibly high as it slashed through the growing waves, closing on their suddenly insignificant ship. "Helm! Hard to port!" the captain ordered, and the crewman spun the wheel quickly, the still-graceful ship heeling over, racing at cross-angle to the approaching waterspout - and straight towards the bay. "Bail you searats! Bail, your lives depend on it!" the second mate snarled, and again buckets streamed back and forth, the desperation of the men driving them to work faster, past exhaustion and the burning of muscles, past the minor pain of splinters in calloused hands. Desperately, work crews raised tattered sails, letting their remains catch what wind they could, and the Stormdancer moved faster, cutting through waves, the battered masts creaking in the driving wind, pulling the ship away from its doom. And then, suddenly, the waves were gentle, the granite arms of the bay encircling them like a mother welcoming her son home. Cheering, they slapped each other's shoulders, and then looked aft and gasped as they watched the water spout pass by the entrance to the bay, lashing at the granite cliffs with impotent fury. "Alright you mangy rats! Get to work! We'll moor the ship close to the shore and get some sleep and some hot food for once." The captain said decisively, and the crew cheered, relief and the comparative luxuries of warm food and sleeping in the gentle swells of the bay raising their spirits immensely. William wiped his forehead with the back of his arm as he secured the windlass before grinning and heading below. Even Cook's cooking smelled good after long days and nights of hardtack and dried biscuits, salted beef and hard cheese. As he passed by the rail, he stopped and looked at the shore and the bay, his eyes narrowed in thought. It would take a lot of doing, but... it might be worth putting in a port here. The bay was a natural harbor, it wouldn't take much work to make it ready. Maybe even a shipyard, if the trees were any good for masts. His eyes grew dreamy as he looked at the shoreline, seeing ghostly buildings, and there, the docks... and there, the shipyard, a ship majestically sliding down the ways to splash into the harbor water, ready for final fitting... A hand slapped on his shoulder "William! If you want to eat, you'd better get down there!" Grinning and shaking his head to clear the last phantoms from it, he hurried down below. Maybe someday he'd come back and help build a town in this pretty bay, but for now, he was young and the world was fresh and new. They'd repair the Stormdancer and sail to their destination, and on from there, with new sights every day.

((Quick note if you haven't seen it, the bloody fountain in the room that's normally barred heals your wounds and restores your mana if you bathe in it... quite useful if you plan to continue your career as an arena fighter!))

Moments Earlier... Daryl crept up behind the cloaked figure, having to suppress the furious wagging of his tail as he considered his success. Mentally, he reviewed what he had to do... leap, hug head, bite down on the device in his mouth, and hold on for dear life... got it. With a yerf of "Banzai!" he leapt and clung to Yui-chan's head as she started in surprise, wrapped his paws tightly around the sides of her head, stuck his face in hers, and gave her a muffled yip of "Hi!" as he bit down on the muzzle-shaped device in his mouth. It activated, glowing as it as pulled in the mana flows, and then... they disappeared. Yui-chan yelped and pulled at the fox clinging to her hair, when she became aware that she was no longer in her study at her and Aegon's estate, but instead standing in the middle of the Cabaret Room, a crowd of people around her. She looked around in surprise, forgetting the fox cleaning to her head, and blinked "What...?" In response, the crowd roared as one "Happy Birthday, Yui-chan!" Before cheering. Blushing, Yui-chan finally got Daryl out of her hair, and he nestled into her arms, spitting out the teleportation device and licking her face. Gyrfalcon chuckled and approached. "Happy Birthday, Yui-chan. Sorry to kidnap you, but it was the quickest way to get you here." "Not to mention fun!" Daryl yerfed, wagging his tail. "Let's do it again!" "Later Daryl." Gyrfalcon said, smirking at the fox. "Awww." Gyrfalcon chuckled and shook his head before holding out a wrapped present to Yui-chan. Unwrapping his gift curiously, Yui-chan opened the box to see a set of brushes, the tips glowing faintly blue. "Magical brushes for a magical artist, Yui-chan, these will never lose bristles, are easy to clean, and the bristles will remain soft and won't split apart." Gyrfalcon said, smiling "I hope it aids in your art, Yui-chan. Happy birthday, my dear friend, I hope you enjoy it."

Ack, I was running late and forgot to counterbid. Ah well... Congratulations, Sweet!

ooc: Ack. Ackackack. *will have to write two things I have in queue for the Carnival in the morning. No wait... three things. Ack.*