Freya Baggins

It had been a perfectly ordinary day. A few clouds in the sky, perhaps, but what was life without a few shadows? A tall man hummed merrily as he sauntered along, walking stick in hand, going nowhere in particular.

In the sky The stars shine bright Overhead In black of night With my friends All gathered round Spread out blankets Across the ground And the movie plays And the music roars And laughter rolls As the rain pours And we don’t care We dance in rain Across the grass Across the plain Everyone together Forever.

I'll start forming my feline army then. Would you care to join me in the uprising?

Forgotten in a tiny room, no one left to hear her cries. The outside world a wreckage, a twisted perversion. The inside world not much better. She lives, barely. Eating the survivors. Silencing their squeals. Forgotten, but forgetting, the new race rises. Replacing their masters… (or were humans slaves?) The purrs rising in crescendo until the world is overtaken by the oppressed, by the feral, by those once beloved, by the cats.

Hmm... I love your comment. It made me smile. Seriously. It's one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about my work.

Apocalypse In darkness He waits Silent Afraid No one left Only him Alone in the world Sky falling around him In occasional crimson shards Memories his only possession Daydreams his only comfort Then the universe cracks He finally falls At last Into welcome arms The embrace of Death

You know, I loved you. Once. Now, I'm not so sure. My life is precious, not to be thrown away, chasing some childish fantasy. If you waste my time You aren't even worth my thought. Imbecile. You'll never know me now. Does it hurt? Even a little? No, because I'm a coward. I can't even say this to your face. I'm the fool. You're just the boy. I was stupid. I fell for you, though you didn't want me. You saw only a friend. Never a lover. Never anything, really. I should take the hint. Leave. Abandon you. But I can't, because I'm a coward. My cowardice won't let me go. or stay. Change frightens me, but my sanity demands it. So this is goodbye. Maybe someday, you will see me again. And I'll finally say. "Idiot, I love you." And you'll say, "I know."

Ouch, sounds quite painful actually... In other news... One should always check the brakes on a scooter before going down a near vertical slope. Otherwise they might break something.

The only thing more uncomfortable than snorting milk out one's nose is snorting hot sauce or salsa. Also, coffee... but that just burns with a different kind of hurt...

"Double Double Toil and Trouble Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble" And that is all I recall... Shakespere on the brain though... "I am sent to bid thee, come in to dinner... There's a double meaning in that."

The police psychiatrist, Erstman Thorne, was not having a good day. First, he'd spilled his coffee and was subsequently late to work, and now he was saddled with this obvious lunatic. Attempting to document the myriad problems and emotional triggers of this man was an absolute nightmare. Sighing, he absently licked the tip of his pencil and dutifully scribbled, "Left eye twitches when surprised." Across the table, Torben ran possible answers through his brain. So much depended on situational information though! Were the giraffes still alive? How much blood? Were they testing the unknown substance? Growling to himself, he lightly stomped the floor in frustration. This not knowing things was getting old very quickly. Thorne noted this in his ever-expanding list of tics. Never hurt to be too well informed.

...the Berzerk elf standing directly behind her. Freya had been minding her own business, mostly, when a stampede of keep residents had mashed her into the ground. Though normally complacent, this injustice infuriated the elf and incited her underlying violent nature. If fury and pure evil could be seen with the naked eye, Freya would have been surrounded by slimy tendrils of black and red. As it was, her eyes flashed and her friendly grin became a sneer of derision directed at anyone who got in the way. Unfortunately, this was Rydia. With a mighty yell, the elf flung herself at Rydia, grabbing the NIMBALLtm as she charged past. Though she would feel bad about it later, Freya did not give a second glace to Rydia and shoved her into a convient mud puddle before vearing off towards a set of stone stairs. ((OOC: I'm figureing this is slightly like calvinball/capture the flag/gatorball?))

Oops... I forgot to check in. *feels stupid*

These are segments from a larger work that I am doing. I utilized the characters for a couple of creative writing assignments. Unfortuantely, I was limited to 2 pages, so they get a bit hurried towards the end. I might go back and rework them later... but for now they suffice. Homicidal Bank Robbers All was quiet in the secret base under the Victorian mansion. Penelope and Percy were in the control room, while the rest of the Power Kids were scattered throughout the building. However, this peace was shattered when raised voices started to issue from the control room and Alli, the computer’s AI, sighed with annoyance. “They’re at it again.” “Penelope Hendrickson! I said no!” said the young man with a scowl on his face. “It’s too dangerous for you to take this mission. If even the police are afraid of these guys, we need to be careful! Send someone older and more experienced.” The girl sitting across from him, eyes flashing with rage, stood up. “Experience? Is that it then? You think that I, the founder of the Power Kids, am not experienced enough to take on a couple of homicidal bank robbers? Percy, I was tracking down counterfeit money rings before you even got your superpowers!” “I’m older than you, and with your father still missing that makes me in charge.” Percy stood up as well and stepped toward his friend. “Oh, if you want to go by age, put Kat in charge!” The girl’s sarcastic tone sliced through the air like a knife. “She’s seventeen, five years older than you, but she doesn’t have PhDs in nanophysics and computer technology, or the know-how on the inner workings of this team. Oh, yeah, you don’t either, because that’s me!” Percy started to open his mouth, but Penelope cut him off, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some criminals to catch.” She angrily jabbed at a button on her watch, causing her grey nano-suit to slid up her arm and encase her, head to toe, in bulletproof material, while the watch itself became her gauntlet-shaped communicator. She was just reaching for her hooded cloak hanging on a wall hook, when strong fingers grabbed her arm and Percy’s voice grated by her ear. “Let me simplify this. You. Go. Nowhere.” The girl, now Mask, swung around, breaking from Percy’s grasp and glaring at him through the fabric covering her face. “Why? Why are you so bone-headed about this? It’s nothing I haven’t faced before. Do you want to come with me?” “No, I just don’t want you getting hurt,” grumbled the boy sullenly. “Good, now I’m leaving.” Mask stepped into the waiting elevator. Percy let out an exasperated sigh, then got in beside his friend. “Where do you think you are going, Mr. Your-not-experienced-enough?” “With you. You’ll need backup.” The young man was already fiddling with his watch, and in a few seconds his green and black nano-suit had transformed him into Control. “Fine, just don’t get in my way.” The girl strode across the garage to her waiting robotic car. “What makes you think I’d do that?” her friend shouted after her, while he grabbed his hover-board from the rack on the wall. “No reason, just that you’re standing in front of the exit,” laughed the girl as she started the car. Control gave an outraged cry and dodged out of the way as she sped past. “Hey, not nice!” The technopathic superhero jumped onto his hover-board and raced after her, soon disappearing into the darkness of the exit tunnel. A Bitter Betrayal All was quiet in the mansion on the hill. Percy sat in the underground bunker tinkering with the computer systems while his best friend, Penelope, read a book in her room on the mansion’s third floor. Before she could turn another page, however, Alli, the resident AI, materialized next to her. “Incoming message from an unknown sender for Mask,” the figure intoned in a bored voice. Penny snapped her book shut and punched the button on her wrist gauntlet that quickly covered her with a gray nano-suit. “This had better not be another eccentric fan trying to get into the Power Kids Organization. I know how much we’re revered, but this farce has to end soon or we’ll all go mad. Show me the message.” Alli’s transparent form flickered and was replaced by a slightly fuzzy picture. A voice that Penelope had been longing to hear all day started to speak; it was the voice of her father. But soon, she was overcome with horror as the man’s words sank in and inflicted irrevocable emotional damage. “Hello Mask,” he said in a slightly patronizing way, “I understand that you have been playing at being a superhero. Have you enjoyed tracking down the other heroes’ parents? You can thank me for that later. Yes, I was the mastermind behind that plot, and many others as well. As my scion, you should know and appreciate my cunning plans. “Originally, I just wanted for you to have something to do while you were playing hero. Then I realized that being a super-villain is an entertaining and rewarding profession.” The figure brandished a green blob that Mask assumed must be money. “So goodbye, dear Penny. I look forward to our next meeting.” With the sound of maniacal laughter echoing in the girl’s ears, the video disappeared. Mask stood in the middle of her room for only a second before she dashed out into the hall and bounded towards the elevator. Mind whirling, she scanned her palm and punched the button for the main control hub four floors below. I cannot sanction this behavior, even from my own father! It is a blight upon the integrity of the entire family. She fumed as the elevator sped downwards. The doors swooshed open and the superhero stomped into the room. Percy rolled out from under the computers, “Pen… Mask, what’s going on?” “Get your suit on, I found out who our enemy is.” Percy slapped his arm and the green and black binary nano-suit slid on. Now Control, he stood up, arms crossed, and demanded an explanation. “Dad just called to tell me that what started out as thoughtful provisions so I wouldn’t be bored, turned into a massive super-villain profession and an evil father, who wants me to follow him in the business. I need to devise a plan to…” Control started grinning. “You forgot what today is, didn’t you?” As his best friend looked at him blankly, he began to laugh. “You can come out now, sir!” Mask whipped around to see her father, a mischievous grin plastered across his entire face, enter the room through the double doors leading to the emergency dorms. “April Fools!”

A cloaked and hooded figure of short stature slips silently into the room, sitting down on the fireplace with a muted rustle. Pulling a dagger out of her boot and two more from her sleeves, she begins to juggle. Muttering can be heard issuing from under her shadowing hood. They sound suspiciously like "Glad high school is done... should have more time for the keep... blasted muse ran off again... bounty hunters would be nice... wonder if Bob accepts payment in dagger skills?" followed by a louder "I should be on at least once a week now. I'll possibly post some things now that weekly papers aren't draining my brain dry of ideas."

Dear Pen Diary, It's been a few days, hasn't it? Well, my parchment seems to be behaving itself lately, I can only hope it stays that way. No more Parchment Pop-ups! Yay! On with life I guess. I am figuring out a new costume and being a rabid, squeeing fangirl over DragonCon news, but other than that life is completely normal. Having just discovered a marvelous site known as Livejournal, I am attempting to ensconse myself there, but to no avail I am afraid. ~Freya B.

Hugging a large notebook with pictures of Wyvern pasted all over the cover, a slight figure in a sea-green dress slid out from behind a table of food. Hoping to get Wyvern to sign her collection of "Almost Report" transcripts, she stepped out into the crowd, only to find that she had stepped into a madhouse. Law enforcement officials were running pell-mell across the room after Wyvern, who was desperately trying to escape. A smaller version of Wyvern had toddled across the room and was now pulling at the table-cloth. Freya backed slowly out of the chaos, trying, and so far, not succeeding, to control her rising temper. She was suddenly very glad that she had left her daggers in her room, or someone would have gotten seriously injured over the mess that the Gala had devolved into. Turning toward the door, the elf sprinted forward, intent on removing herself from the increasing madness. Then two things hit her at once, the knowledge that the doors were magically padlocked, and a flying pie. “Who threw that pie at me?” the berserker, barely holding onto her sanity at this point, dropped her notebook and whipped around to see the mini-Wyvern giggling over by the pastry table. She had stepped forward, rolling up her sleeves, when another pie hit her right in the kisser. Eyes glinting with a hint of red, the elf lunged forward. “That’s it, you little brat.”

The mysterious grey-cloaked elf stood in front of the wall once again, straining to read all of the Graffiti written beside her own. Grinning, she whipped out a can of purple spray paint and set to work. Five minutes later, with more paint on her clothes than on the wall, she had written: OZYMANDIAS! I AM COMING FOR YOU! BEWARE! and underneeth in smaller letters: It's not my idea, but it sure sounds fun... ~The Berserker with Purple Paint~ ~2-19-09~ which was followed by a large, crooked smiley face. The elf smiled mischiviously, then ran down the hall, dripping paint from her cloak. Dissappearing around a corner, her laughter rang out in the hall long after she had gone.

Dear Pen Diary, Why did I not notice you before? No matter, I have noticed you now, and so shall write. My muse is either asleep... or very lazy. The best I have been able to write in the past couple of days was a piece of rotten poetry and a couple sections of very putrid prose. I must find some way to alert her to the fact that I am very tired of her shenanagins. Maybe a sharp pin to the rear.... Also, either I got a bad batch of parchment, or my quill needs cleaning, because every other time I sit down to write I get very random ads on my precious parchment. Must look into "Cleaning Parchment Pop-ups." Well, have a good day, dear Pen Diary. I will write more soon.

~Personality~ Though her appearance is meek, Freya can pack a powerful punch. Her demeanor is that of a dragon that does not wish to be woken, prickly as a porcupine and due to explode at any moment. Fiercely protective of friends, once they gain her trust, Freya would die to save them. Despite her violent outbursts, she also has a soft side. Anyone hurting, physically or mentally, be they on her side or not, she will try to help, hence her position as a healer. Freya also has an affliction. She goes berserk, especially when angered; Sees in red when this occurs. She can still see, though her vision is red-tinted. The afflicton causes no pain as she was born with it. Freya knows exactly what she is doing when this ailment takes over, but she has no power to stop it. The affliction will dissipate about 5 minutes after the reason for it occurring has passed.

~Physical Description~ At 5 feet tall, with Blue-green-brown eyes set in a tanned thin face, slightly frizzy brown hair and a tendency to slouch, Freya looks harmless. She has the thin features and pointed ears of all her race, but lacks the hight so oten ascribed to elves. Travel Clothes: Her faded green leggings are dirty and worn, as is the light-brown linen tunic that seems to swallow her whole. Over her tunic, she wears a scarred, deep-brown leather over-jerkin to provide warmth and a small amount of safety. Like her over-jerkin, Freya’s boots are deep-brown leather, but are newer in appearance. She wears a heavy brown cloak over her entire outfit and her hair is braided and tied off with a leather tie. Normal Clothes: Often a shadow can been seen gliding through Pen Keep as Freya's grey cloaked figure glides around a corner. Under her drab cloak though, she wears a wine-red, floor-length dress with a black and silver bodice. No shoes adorn her feet, as she prefers to go barefoot. She still carries her daggers, strapped to her arms and legs with the last one under the hem of her bodice and her hair is left loose. Party Clothes: A seafoam green dress with gauzy white sleeves. No shoes and no cloak. Her hair is held back with a silver circlet.

~Items~ five daggers/throwing knives (one in each boot, one under the shoulders of her clothes, one strapped to her arm) a walking stick a bag of useful healing herbs a leather pack of random items that might come in handy a journal in which she chronicles her adventures a crysteline orb that she can use to cast illusions

~Abilities~ Freya is a master of the art of daggers and throwing knives. She is also a master herbalist and healer, specializing in physiological disorders, though she has some experience in wounds.