Peredhil

Peredhil quickly casts a cleansing spell on his Armani suit and glares at Santa Wvyern. After a moment, he casts and cleans Rahsash Geldich's clothing as well. Grasping the guitar firmly by its neck, he resists other neck-grasping motions. Turning away from Wyvern, he welcomes Rahsash with a Polite "If you'll email me at peredhil31@hotmail.com, I'd be pleased to send you the password to the Critic's Corner..."

Rushing as always of late, Peredhil enters through one door and immediately heads toward another. His Lists of Lists tops the stack of Lists and he's marking off items as he walks at a brisk pace. Guido, at the bar talking with Guido the Bartender, motions to Nuncio and they converge on the bustling Half-Elf. Moments later, Elrond realizes his legs are moving, but he's not going anywhere. Once they have his attention, the Guinea Pigs lower him until his feet touch the floor. "Yo Boss," rasps Guido in an itchy whisper, "I tink youse fergettin' some lil' ting." With a sigh, Elrond begins frantically flipping through his Lists. Nuncio leans in and whispers to his other ear. "Bhurin just joined. You remember him?" Gesturing vaguely in the direction of the enormous Battle Angel, Nuncio prompts Peredhil memory, "Emissary? Order of the Quill from Legion? Exciting writer? Polished P-" "Bhurin!" Elrond's grey eyes lighten momentarily, Of course!" Turning to the Bartender, Peredhil announces loudly, Drinks are free until the next immediately coming New Year! (Local Time!) Ignoring Wyvern's shrieks of horror as visions of lost geld dance in his head, Peredhil continues out the door, meeting Elladan as he exits. "I don't have time for that, just Counter with what you ha-" The door snicks shut after the enervated Elder. ~~~ Elrond Peredhil, 31 Elder of Lists and Manners Bard of Terra (Thinks he might've won an Order of the Quill too, but would need to check the Legion site. )

Peredhil, walking back with Bhurin's contact information, cheers the newest applicant's poem, but unfortunately has little time to stop and chat. "I do hope you'll be patient on our Elder of Initiates," Peredhil says, gesturing at the brooding Elder, "he's thinking about how to get the most presents during the holidays." "Feel free to join in any of the public boards, I'm sure you'll find some of the feedback you desire." "Also don't be reluctant to provide feedback of your own. Many here are starved for echos of creativity and intelligence!" "Again welcome welcome!" "Please forgive me my haste!" Peredhil bows and hastens toward the door. Elrond Peredhil, 31 Elder of Lists and Manners Edit to match Wyvern's post. Edited by: peredhil31 at: 12/28/01 5:11:38 am

Peredhil wonders from where the pin came, as he uses sticky stars. Suspecting a practical joke, he looks for Wyvern, the Squirrel Duo, and Doctor Evil, in that order. With a shrug in turns to Bhurin. Thank you for the contact information, I appreciate the timely response. And I'm truly sorry if I injured you! That would be Rude and therefore I'm disconsolate. Respectfully (and hastily), Peredhil

Peredhil wanders in and licks a gold star with the word Initiate written on it with a Sharpie pen and sticks it on to Bhurin's chest. Welcome! You'll need to send me an email address so you can get passwords and such. he says laconically and wanders away to update his lists. Elrond Peredhil, 31 Elder of Lists and Manners (peredhil31@hotmail.com)

Rah! D&D inspired events. Love 'em. Your works are always work reading. -Peredhil

He spent the next day walking on air. It was a pecularly slippery feeling, and he didn't really like it. It was better than the pain. It was strange to look through the shimmer layer of refracting air and see the raw wounds where he'd walked through the blisters into the flesh. He tried poking at them with his finger, but it slid off to the side. The Voices on his feet laughed shrilly at his exploratory efforts, unbothered by such gross material things as fingers. His uncle winced in sympathy at the sight of his soles. He was starting to like Uncle Mordecai.

I'd welcome another covering of the battle from the other point of view as you originally intended. Pick up a Pen and start writing!

Nicely done. Evocative yet understandable.

Peredhil Politely exchanges his first choice for a higher more comfortable chair, bows, and beats a hasty retreat. ZIP! And he's gone out the door!

Peredhil browses through, trying to catch up on his reading - and stumbles on this poem. *Very very nicely done- The stacatto phrases add emphasis to the pared down expresson of the basics of life, love, the raw emotional foundations of human existence. The cry for freedom to choose your own way, away from the traditions that have become bondage without thought or examination is most effective after the atomic build-up. -A pleasure to read.* At the risk of being pendantic and totally missing the point, Peredhil replaces his mental Yadda-Yadda-Yadda with the actual thought that usually lie between the asterisked lines...

Peredhil steals another moment to catch up on his reading. Exquisite. There is something better waiting for many, yet it is better to keep it waiting... -P

Fragments Are all I glean. I cherish the reading none-the-less. You stir my hindbrain with visions, even when the fore-brain cries defeat. -P

Cannot understand But I always accept you Without knowing why.

Lyrical imagery, light-hearted lilt. I really enjoy reading these, they buoy my mood and lift it inexorably up. Some stanzas remind me of love's first bloom, a stream of conciousness that sweeps one along, while the sweet emotion tinges everthing. umm. I'm babbling. Neat. -Peredhil

Doin' the Dew... The log rocks slightly with shifting weights and the slap of small waves from the shore. Standing with feet cupping the top of the barkless turned log, left foot slightly forward, right foot slightly back, hips to the front, but body angled toward the person standing at the other end of the log, the spar pole is cold metal in my forward hand. My opponent stands in a mirror pose, although their left heel is a bit far forward on the log. I make a mental note to try to run the log and then reverse it into backward motion. If one doesn't keep their heel back, they can't check the log's speed and they'll be running backward right down into the waiting water. The sun is hot on my shoulders, and our shadows look chill stretch before us. Don't get distracted, watch the opponent's feet! This is like boxing without touch, an intricate dance. "Are you ready?" The judge's voice begins the ritual. We both replied in the affirmative. "Then throw your poles and begin!" I release mine and leave my left arm extended for balance. My opponent actually throws his pole away, which shifts the delicate point known as 'the top of the log'. We're off and running rapidly, the water boiling up and over the log, our feet taking quick small steps, slapping the log with the lead foot to 'check' and slow it. Keep the shoulders down! Balance, everything in balance. Always stay on top of the log - as the top constantly shifts and spins. A little hop and jam both feet down. The log stops with a jerkk and I thrust down hard with my forward foot, spinning the log the other way. At the other end, he staggers and almost crosses the painted center line - and automatic win for me. But he recovers and we're running backward. I've my heel well back, but as I'd thought, his heel is too far forward. He's running quicker and quicker, trying to get back up on top of the log, his inner arm starting to windmill in and unconcious impulse to GET BACK but he slips into the water. Straightening just slightly, I check with my heel each step, slowing the log and bringing it back under control. We're away from the dock, and too far from the spar poles. The water looks cold. My opponent swims for the dock ladder. I kick the log and get a good motion, and begin spinning my way to the shore. Probably should save my legs, this IS the best two out of three, but he practices too much alone I judge. He tries to overcontrol the log, instead of working with it. His transitions need practice too, he comes up in the shoulders when changing directions. Maybe next time, I'll kick water at him...

Transcribed from The Conservatory, Archmage Universal Bulletin Board This is a partial transcription - "Rapture" (Raging Goat) deleted all his posts as a protest of his beloved Scarlett O'Harpy (Cerulean) marrying another man - even in Role Play. Originally transcribed to the Pen by Cerulean, deleted at Raging Goat's request. Retranscribed by Raging Goat, who prefaced it with a poem dedicating the entire thread to his Cerulean. Deleted by the Pen Elders, 'cause he hadn't written the entire thread, and had in fact deleted everything of his FROM the thread. The poem, an extremely well-written piece, was moved to the Banquet Hall - and later deleted by Raging Goat. Re-retranscribed by Peredhil. Transferred from Ezboard, but many of the post were out of order (for example, the first page became the last!) Retranscribed by Peredhil, 23Jun2003. The cast in order of appearance: -Scarlett O'Harpy as herself, then Tzimfemme -Cerulean as herself. -(offstage) Peredhil as himself -Woods, Crooner from Hell as a Rastafarian giant -Wyvern, as Saint of Parties laying down the Rules -Holy Chaos as Culex -Canid as Hydrus the Dwarf -Peredhil as Lord Kendricke (With Guido & Nuncio as Dominions) -Gyrfalcon as Wyvern -Finnius as Canid -Tyrion as Gas Tank -(cameo appearance of Rapture, beloved of Scarlett) -Mindspawn as Tyrion -Wyvern as Brute, then Felloros -(Buba the DoorOgre introduced) -Quincunx ---Rosemary as BelZpock ---Minta as NIM ---Rydia as Birdman ---Tzimfemme as The Grim Squeaker -(Pekkle, a demoness) -Azonalantious as Nimball then Mr. Bunny, and finally Weasel #17 of the Fluffy Pink Weasels -~O~ as The Great Imposter (Lumpenprolatariat) -Arawn as Zool. -Jerry as Wyvern, then Black -Culex as a Giant Spider. -Haruchi as Orlan (A plague of Locusts) -Zool as ? -Joat116 as Rydia -Orlan as the Great God and Pharoah Nanotoknonnen -(Guido as Scorn, Nuncio as MishaNIZ) -(Raging Goat as Peredhil - post deleted) -(Rapture as Raging Goat - post deleted) -Jechum as Peredhil -Silexion as Silexion -(Tim the Exterminator) -Gwaihir as MishaNIZ -Lumpenproletariat as the Grinch -(an Expert Photographer) -Black as Tamaranis, then Burn, then Death... -Knight as Lord Kendricke, then Lumpenproletariat -Yui Temae as Dominatrix, Mistress of Pain -Hydrus as ? (nice tuxedo though) -Tamaranis himself -(Witch, Dread Knight, Necro, henchmen of Black) -Tyfel as himself. -Gummy and Bead, Conservatory Moderators.

Wyvern Epilogue Three mages, one carrying what appears to a white bundle with a reptilian tail sticking out one end, stop at the rubble of what was once the Conservatory. They look upon the mess with a kind of horrific fascination. Rubbing his head (which still slightly aches from his lightening-quick ressurection experience), Gyrfalcon turns to Bead, who is holding the white package. "He said he'd clean up this mess after the party was over..." mutters Gyrfalcon. Prodding the white bundle with the hilt of his katana, he whispers "A deal's a deal, Wyvern." A stressfull murmer is emitted from the bundle, but is incomprehensible to the three furious moderaters. Gummy (the third mage) walks up to the Conservatory ruins and notices the note posted there. He tears the note from the board and waves it in the air. "Bead! Gyrfalcon! Look at this!" After having read over the note several times in disgust, Bead throws the white bundle down on the ground by the ruins. He unties one or two nots, and the package comes undone. Inside is none other then Wyvern himself... and what a sight Wyvern is!He's covered from head to toe with postal stamps and letter glue! Bead crosses his arms over his chest and waves the note 'Wyvern' (in quotation marks, since it was really Yui) had wrote. "Have you no shame?! First, you promise you'll clean up the party after yourself. Then, on this letter, you say you'll pay for any damages done. And what do you try to do?! Give us the slip, that's what! You're in for a BIG carping!!!" Groveling on the ground, Wyvern whimpers "Wait! I can explain..." Gummy turns to Bead, rubbing his forehead in distaste. "I still can't believe he tried to get mailed to the desert with Cerulean's presents... It was a miracle we found them still intact in the ruins..." Bead looks over to Gyrfalcon and says "I'm glad you decided to inspect the presents one last time for anything dangerous..." Gyrfalcon sighs "I certainly found SOMETHING didn't I?" Still crawling on the ground, Wyvern cries "Wait a minute. You guys don't understand! I was... uhhhh... (Wyvern thinks for a moment) I was supposed to be one of Cerulean's presents! Yeah, that's it! And what's all this about me paying for this mess?! I ain't paying for noth-" Wyvern's sentance is interrupted as he's thrown a mop and a bucket of soap water from Gummy. "Start cleaning..." mutters Gummy, who then follows Gyrfalcon and Bead who are walking away. "Hey, wait! I..." Wyvern let's out a groan and decides to just let them be. He sighs... it was time to succumb to his destiny... Picking up the mop, Wyvern begins soaping what was once the Conservatory. After 5 minutes or so, he realizes the soap won't do any good. He curses wildly and jumps up and down on the mop, breaking it to pieces. After he has distilled his anger, he collapses on what was once probably a dance floor and begins quietly sobbing to himself. Having finished his self pitying, he decides that now would be a good time to get dead drunk off of the Endless Decanter. He is about to take a sip when a familiar voice is heard from behind him. "Hey lizard... You forgot our deal?" Wyvern turns around and is amazed to see the expert photographer he had hired earler. "Ah! You're still around? Did you get anything?!" "Did I ever..." the photographer smirks and chuckles "Look at these!" with that, he hands Wyvern a stack of pictures. Looking through the photos one at a time, Wyvern's face grows brighter and brighter. "Wow! These are great! How did you get this one of Harpy eating Finnius?" "Skill..." the photographer mutters, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. "Oh! I almost forgot these two..." The photographer holds out two photos in front of Wyvern and Wyv's expression of glee suddenly fades. One picture depicted Wyvern being knocked out by the anti-spam carp. The other showed Wyvern and Yui holding hands, silohetted in the moon light. "Give those to me!!!" cries Wyvern, flailing to get ahold of the two pictures. But alas... the photographer is swift and Wyvern cannot seem to grasp them. "I'll tell you what lizard, I'll give you these two if you give me all the rest. How does that sound?" Gazing at the picture of him and Yui silohetted in moonlight and thinking dreadfull thoughts of Cheyenne discovering about this incident, Wyvern gulps and quietly murmers "Alright..." Another of his plans had failed. The last trick he had up his sleeve... Wyvern sighs once again, laying back on the ruins and gazing up at the moon and the stars. He takes a small sip from his Decanter, but no longer feels the need to get drunk. A small smile spreads across his face. It had been utter chaos, it was true, but the party had been a blast none the less. It's a shame it had to end in the destruction it did... He wondered if Cerulean would ever come back from the solitude of the desert, the events of the party must have most certainly emotionally scarred her in some way. Never the less, she was still getting her presents, so all was for the better. Yawning to himself, the lizard slowly dozes off on an utterly ruined Conservatory dance floor... ~Fin ------------------ Wyvern ...almost a dragon. Proud Owner of the Decanter of Endless Booze. Saint of Terra; Patron of Parties. Lover of Cheyenne. Diplomat and representitive of Succubi or Bust (S.o.B )-BG The Pen is Mightier then the Sword-BH Elder of Initiates It's also easier to carry... ~Member of Nekkid Mages #1 Fanclub and Worshippers~ Unofficial member of the Mr. Bunny fan club. "GIVE ME A CARROT GODDAMMIT!" -Mr. Bunny

Knight Knight smiled at Yui. He knew what she was thinking. She must be wondering how we was able to ressurect Gyrfalcon without a drain.. It was quite simple actually.. Gyr could not use his nodes.. He didn't know the proper password. Knight chuckled at his own foresight. ------------------ Blood Warrior of Souls- Army of Darkness Vice president of the official Mr. Bunny Fan club "..." - Mr. Bunny "Duty, Honor, Country. Those three hallowed words reverently dictate what you ought to be, what you can be, what you will be..." -General Douglas MacArthur De Oppresso Libre - To free the oppressed "Molon Labe!" "Come and Get them!" -Spartan King Leonidas -Crack dealer out of the back of a certain Wholesale Warehouse

Yui Temae As Gyrfalcon collapsed to the ground, unconscious but miraculously still alive, Yui stared at Knight with wide eyes. Gods. To be able to ressurect someone without even a moment of weakness or ... or ... anything from the mana drain...! Knight never ceases to amaze me with his pure power. I need to find out just how he does what he does... After a moment of awestruck stillness, however, she recovers herself and moves over to Gyrfalcon's fallen form, checking his breathing and pulse. With a nod, she raises her face to Knight and smiles brightly. "Amazing, my friend. He truly is just ... sleeping. He's alive!" Her eyes move to a very relieved-looking Wyvern and a rather perplexed Black. Cerulean glances back at her and then turns and leaves, disappearing into the burnt, plastic foliage of the faux-forest. As Wyvern steps forward, Yui sees a hint of moisture in his eyes, but just smiles a quiet smile to herself and looks back down at Gyrfalcon. "Let's get him back home so that he can rest." She raises her green eyes to glance at Wvyern and Knight. "If you two will carry him, I can 'Walk us back to his lands..." After a few moments of tense negotiation over Wyvern's salary for this effort, the two gentlemen lift their exhausted comrade between them and carry him into the shadow of a great, plastic palm tree with Black following just behind them. The young magess holds the shadowlink open, turning once to survey the charred ceiling, the gaping holes where the floor has collapsed, and the puddles of molten plastic mixed with booze and locust blood dotting what floor still remains. She shakes her head in amazement, thinking of the ruins downstairs... the cracked and broken pillar, the fermenting pool filled with booze, the wreckage of what was once a refreshment table... and suddenly smiles. I'm glad it's not my mess to clean up! With a little laugh and the soft 'pop' of magic dispelling, she lets the shadowlink break and goes running off down the stairs. There, in the demolished remains of the dance hall, she pulls a rough piece of blank parchment and a magic quill from the inner pocket in her cloak, settling them down on a (very rare) clean spot on the remains of one of the tables. A few scribbles and an evil grin later, she takes out an emerald arrowhead and walks over to one of the few standing wooden posts in the building. With a soft whunk and a very frightening creak, grooooooooooaaaaaaan from the surrounding structure, she drives the arrowhead through the little note and into the wood of the post. Her laughter is downright evil as she turns and dashes into the nearest shadow, fading from the now-silent building... As Yui disappears, a rather bloated Scarlett O'Harpy hops (leaps, at her size?) down the stairs, her heels clicking rather loudly for a 3"-tall magess... (unless she's a bit heavier than she looks). She seems to be muttering to herself (if you ignore the muffled replies that are coming from her stomache) as she waddles across the room and out the door. As she reaches out and hauls on the (relative to her) huge door, her last words echo in the silence... "I mean it, Finnius. You were the very best husband I ever had ... a little chewy, maybe, but, oh, that flavor! Mmmm..." It may be just the wind, but there seems to be a muffled sob that rings out just before the door swings closed. After another moment, the silence is broken again by a rather chilling moan. "Uhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnn, I, The Great God and Pharaoh Nanotoknonnen, should not have used the entire vial. I, The Great God and Pharaoh Nanotoknonnen, order you to stop chewing on that! ACK! I, The Great God and Pharaoh Nanotoknonnen, will have to restrain you, slave, if you do not stop-- ARGH!" And then the voice changes a bit, and Orlan's yelp rings through the empty space. "TZIMFEMME! Ack! D-don't do th-that! I, The G-great G-g-g-god... and... URGH! HALP! Slaves, get her off of me! I, the Great God and Pharaoh Nanotoknonnen, command you!" Suddenly, a growing wave of some sort of buzzing noise rings from one of the backrooms, soon joined by a lot of eeks, yeows, crashes, yelps, and screams. Then... all goes silent, again. .... a few minutes later, a swarm of locusts carrying an unconscious TzimSqueaker float through the room. Behind them, Orlan-toknonnen shuffles along, his normally oh-so-sexy swagger reduced to a limping trudge that inspires more pity than admiration. The tattered remains of a lot of mummy-wrappings ripple in the breeze as the leaders of the locust swarm push open the front doors, revealing bruises, bloody bite-marks, and a few strange, mouth-shaped suction dots. As he follows his locusts out the door, Orlan-toknonnan softly moans, "Uhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnn, I, The Great God and Pharaoh Nanotoknonnen, should not, not, NOT have used the entire vial. Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnn..." The door slams shut behind him, and time hangs in the silent, empty building. ... ... ... Groooooooannnnn.... Grooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnn.... creeeeeeeeak... CRACK! Suddenly, the entire building collapses in on itself in a shower of dust, plastic, booze, and wood. The noise is atrocious, and passersby stop and stare in horror as the rubble settles. In the center of the destruction is a wooden post, the only piece of structure left standing. Attached to the post by an arrowhead of sparkling emerald is a rather dirty piece of paper. When one of the braver of the onlookers climbs into the rubble to retreive it, he finds himself reading a note written in a flowing hand. It says: "To whom it may concern, Thank you for the use of your lovely facilities for our tasteful soirée. We regret their current state, and will certainly make any reparations necessary for our damages. Please contact me at your convenience, and I will be glad to provide the geld necessary for any repairs. Signed, Wyvern ...almost a dragon. Proud Owner of the Decanter of Endless Booze. Saint of Terra; Patron of Parties. " Strangely, the handwriting looks a lot more like Yui's than Wyvern's.... ------------------ @-/--- Yui-chan Aegon's love and owner of his heart Loremistress of the Army of Darkness Honorary member of The Polite Mage's Guild Forever a mage of the Hall of Justice Yui-chan #1592, a mage of Ascendant magicks

Cerulean Shaking herself truly awake, rolling free of the possession, Cerulean moves quietly away from the crowd. All attention is on the heroic Gyrfalcon as he lies dazed from his ordeal. It is not difficult for her to step through the shadows unnoticed. In a minute she is free of the plastic jungle, and is happy to see Harpy striding around the Bridal Suite, apparently talking to herself! Her friend was seemingly safe the whole while. Cerulean smiles and shakes her head in wonder. In two minutes she has reached the ground floor. Her gifts fill the Hall, but almost all of the guests have left. Suddenly she wants to be free of the place, breathe fresh air once more. Her pace quickens, and in moments she is flinging open the heavy doors and feeling the rush of evening breeze over her face. She knows where she's headed, back to the desert, away from the crowds, the noise, the people. Her stride turns into a run, and suddenly she's free, wind whipping the hair around her face in mad tangles, the softest smile playing over her lips. Breathing hard, as if at a loss, as if at a lover, she opens her eyes wide to the usual incredible sunset. ------------------ Cerulean Dark Mistress of the Desert

Black When hearing Gyr was going to be ok, Black felt the burns that had been on his body. He must not have been thinking of them before. Probly because of the area around him. Throwing the rags that was his cloak to the floor, he tried to cast his heal spell. The spell failed to lack of mana. "Thats odd, I had a big supply of mana last I knew." Things just got more strange by the minute. He thought to himself. OOC: I assume thats a part of the ceiling the light came through

Knight "This'll take one second... Stand clear folks." With this, Knight moves to Gyrfalcon, and begins to weave his hands in intricate motions in the air, and mutter a few incantations. Suddenly, a beam of white light burst through the ceiling of the conservatory, and smashed into Gyrfalcon's lifeless body. Gyrfalcon was lifted into the air still limp, and tossed upright. His wounds disappeared, and his soul, which was barely visible, re-entered his body. His eyes snapped open, he screamed loudly for a second and crumpled into a heap, clearly unconcious. "Give him a bit, and he will be back to himself..." ------------------ Blood Warrior of Souls- Army of Darkness Vice president of the official Mr. Bunny Fan club "..." - Mr. Bunny "Duty, Honor, Country. Those three hallowed words reverently dictate what you ought to be, what you can be, what you will be..." -General Douglas MacArthur De Oppresso Libre - To free the oppressed "Molon Labe!" "Come and Get them!" -Spartan King Leonidas -Crack dealer out of the back of a certain Wholesale Warehouse

Black Black looks around some more and notices Gyr. With a look of shock he turns to Knight. "Knight, you can revive him...cant you?" He also does not see the birthday girl around and wonders what happened.

tyfel Tyfel walks in, holding a seven legged duck (and it WAS expensive), sees the general non-existence of parties, and says (and I quote) "did I miss anything?" ------------------ Tyfel, proud member of the covenant of shadows (ager will be ours!) (no longer believes himself to be the least sane person here. Disco Duck??!??) The Man sans inspirational quotes. Owner of many nonexistent corporations and very much nonexistent money. "Hola, da me el pes de tu hermano raul" "Bonjour, donne moi lu poisson du votre frer raoul" "Hello, give me the fish of your brother raoul.