Archive

Gyrfalcon25 Bard Posts: 117 (12/2/01 9:29:50 pm) Reply Re: Sorry, P, she's all mine... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Happy poetry! YAY!

Falcon2001 Page Posts: 126 (12/2/01 1:43:18 pm) Reply Sorry, P, she's all mine... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Well, soon enough, anyways... Peredhil, could you send the new passwords to my email at silvertrip_2001@yahoo.com? Thanks, well, anyone can if they see this and have them... Cya!

peredhil31 Elder of Lists and Manners Posts: 413 (12/2/01 6:31:25 am) Reply Could you clone her please? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Peredhil rises and cheers happily! Rah! I LIKE this one - bland or not. So there! Sticks out his tongue at Falcon impudently You write 'em - let US criticize 'em. Welcome back online. -P

Falcon2001 Page Posts: 124 (12/2/01 12:23:45 am) Reply If I... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- If I could find a girl With the face of an angel And the beauty of the dove Combined with the fierce strength of the lioness That would talk to me Like me as a friend I could die happy If I could find a girl With the intelligence of the masters And the wit like a knife Along with the brains that would make Einstein jealous That would laugh with me Like me as a poet I could die happy If I could find a girl As kind as a goddess As gentle as the touch of the rain in the night Added to the intensity of the raging fire That would cry with me Like me as an author I could die happy I found a girl With a beauty that could put the gods to shame And a mind to rival Plato and Socrates at their height With the kindness found only in the heart of a dove That shares her troubles with me Loves me for exactly who I am So I can die happy Yes, it's pretty bland, dry, stuff, but that's just too bad...whatever, yay!

El Jakob Quill-Bearer Posts: 20 (12/14/01 12:35:16 pm) Reply Re: Reflections on moving back home... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- BAH! Benny Goodman? Try Roy D. Mercer.... particularly "How Big'A Boy Are Ya?" Of course, you may abandon reading altogether after listening to the whole thing....

Ozymandias the Elder Founder Posts: 32 (9/12/01 4:32:48 pm) Reply Re: Reflections on moving back home... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I just wanted to thank you again for posting this, Jakob. It really does help break a grim mood. :>) (Of course, listening to Benny Goodman *while* reading your stuff is frickin' great!)

Cerulean Quill-Bearer Posts: 27 (9/12/01 8:36:39 am) Reply Re: Reflections on moving back home... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Wimps!

DoctorEvil65 Herald Posts: 33 (9/11/01 4:54:10 pm) Reply Re: Reflections on moving back home... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Doctor hates Houston...actually Texas in general.....it redefines humidity Sincerely, DoctorEvil

Zool47 Elder Posts: 73 (9/11/01 1:35:17 am) Reply Re: Reflections on moving back home... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- He he he. You really don't want to know We don't see things as they are. We see things as we are. -Anais Nin ~Zool~ Elder of Elders, The Pen is Mightier than the Sword. Bard of Terra, Patron Saint of Aspiring Bards. Elder than dirt, more foolish than a jester, able to trip over the smallest logic in a single step. It's... Oh, you know.

Cheye69 Page Posts: 29 (9/10/01 3:45:23 pm) Reply Re: Reflections on moving back home... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- How very true. Very funny, although it makes me wonder on past conversations that I have had with the opposite sex...How much of it was mere fabrication with the barest thread of the truth intermixed?

Zool47 Elder Posts: 69 (9/6/01 6:38:55 am) Reply Re: Reflections on moving back home... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- He he he he... I think it's hilarious! ~Zool~ Elder of Elders, The Pen is Mightier than the Sword. Bard of Terra, Patron Saint of Aspiring Bards. Elder than dirt, more foolish than a jester, able to trip over the smallest logic in a single step. It's... Oh, you know.

Gyrfalcon25 Bard Posts: 26 (9/5/01 8:22:44 pm) Reply Re: Reflections on moving back home... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Gyr laughed at everything but the cat bit.* =)

peredhil31 Elder of Lists and Manners Posts: 143 (9/5/01 12:03:22 pm) Reply Re: Reflections on moving back home... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Peredhil tries to keep a Politely straight face to applaud Jakob's diary, but finally, after twitching and contorting, he bursts into laughter. Finally he almost gets himself under control. "Tha-that's funny! I can relate to the heat! And the humidity." "Poor kitty-cat." Peredhil begins snickering again and has to hastily leave.

El Jakob Initiate Posts: 9 (9/5/01 9:25:28 am) Reply Reflections on moving back home... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Okay, now this may not have a place here... but what the hay... Dear Diary: May 30th: Just moved back to Houston, Now this is a city that knows how to live!! Beautiful sunny days and warm balmy evenings. What a place! Watched the sunset from a park lying on a blanket. It was beautiful. I've finally made it back home. I love it here. June 14th: Really heating up. Got to 100 today. Not a problem. Live in an air-conditioned home, drive an air-conditioned car. What a pleasure to see the sun everyday like this. I'm turning into a sun worshipper. June 30th: Had the backyard landscaped with western plants today. Lots of cactus and rocks. What a breeze to maintain. No more mowing for me. Another scorcher today,but I love it here. July 10th: The temperature hasn't been below 100 all week. How do people get used to this kind of heat? At least it's kind of windy though. But getting used to the heat and humidity is taking longer that I expected. July 15th: Fell asleep by the pool. (Got 3rd degree burns over 60% of my body.) Missed 2 days of work, what a dumb thing to do. I learned my lesson though. Got to respect the ol' sun in a climate like this. July 20th: I missed Morgan (our cat) sneaking into the car when I left this morning. By the time I got to the hot car for lunch, Morgan had swollen up to the size of a shopping bag and exploded all over the $2,000 leather upholstery. I told the kids that she ran away. The car now smells like Kibbles and SHITS. No more pets in this heat. July 25th: The wind sucks. It feels like a giant freaking blow dryer!! And it's hot as hell. The home air-conditioner is on the fritz and the AC repairman charged $200 just to drive by and tell me he needed to order parts. July 30th: Been sleeping outside by the pool for 3 nights now. $1,500 in damn house payments and we can't even go inside. Why did I ever come here? Aug. 4th: It's 115 degrees. Finally got the air-conditioner fixed today. It cost $500 and gets the temperature down a little, but this freaking humidity makes the house feel like it's about 90. Stupid repairman pissed in my pool. I hate this stupid city. Aug. 8th: If another wise ass cracks, "Hot enough for you today?", I'm going to tear his throat out. Damn heat. By the time I get to work the radiator is boiling over, my clothes are soaking wet, and I smell like a dead cat!! Aug. 9th: Tried to run some errands after work. Wore shorts, and sat on the black leather seats in the ol' car. I thought my ass was on fire. I lost 2 layers of flesh and all the hair on the back of my legs and ass. Now my car smells like burnt ass and fried cat. Aug. 10th: The weather report might as well be a damn recording. Hot and sunny. Hot and sunny. It's been too hot to do any frigging for 2 damn months and the weatherman says it might really warm up next week. Doesn't it ever rain in this barren damn desert?? Water rationing will be next, so $1700 worth of cactus just might dry up and blow into the damn pool. Even the cactus can't live in this heat. Aug. 14th: Welcome to HELL!!! Temperature got to 113 today. Forgot to crack the window and blew the damn windshield out of the car. The installer came to fix it and said, "Hot enough for you today?" My wife had to spend the $1500 house payment to bail me out of jail. Frigging TEXANS!!!!

peredhil31 Elder of Lists and Manners Posts: 710 (12/17/01 12:42:31 pm) Reply ezSupporter Cerulean's Masquerade - Sorta -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This excellent bit of writing came from our Honored Guest Raging Goat. He'd retranscribed the Cerulean's Masquerade as a tribute to Lady Cerulean, with this as a preface. The story of the original transcription and subsequent eradication are far to banal to enter into here. In RE-re-transcribing the Original Masquerade, I preserved this. As an Elder of a writing guild, I'd hate to see such a quality piece as this lost. -Peredhil

Raging Goat Honored Guest Posts: 18 (10/18/01 6:22:06 pm) Reply Cerulean's Masquerade -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully, mysteriously )her first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the colour of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands

Gyrfalcon25 Bard Posts: 130 (12/19/01 11:27:35 pm) Reply Re: Something different -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I think this is very good, Katiya- it has depth and feelings, and having this sent at someone would make them feel good. =) Granted, religious things and prayer aren't my cup of tea, but very good. =)

peredhil31 Elder of Lists and Manners Posts: 722 (12/19/01 5:02:50 am) Reply ezSupporter Marketing, eh? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I think it would probably sell... At the least, submit it to Poetry.com and get it published. It's a fine feeling to have your name in print. Very nicely done. When I read it out-loud though, sometimes the meter feels forced, as though the rhythm jumped a half-syllable off. Is it me (likely) or does anyone else have that problem? -Peredhil

Katiya Damodred Initiate Posts: 12 (12/18/01 8:00:52 pm) Reply Something different -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I thought I'd lay this on yall. Every year I write a Christmas poem for my friends instead of giving cards, and my Dad and his girlfriend both thought this year's was good enough for publication. I thought I'd run it by the Pen to see what you guys thought before I even thought about publication seriously. I'd appreciate feedback, especially on the possible publication. Thanks a million! Thank Your Friends One day when I was lonely, I prayed to God above, I said, “Dear Heavenly Father, “Please send me someone to love. “Someone who’ll be with me, “No matter what happens and when, “This is all I ask for, God, “It’s all I want you to send.” God must have heard my prayer that day, For very soon he sent, A group of people I know and love, The people I know as my friends. One night before I went to bed, I asked God secretly, “Did you send these people God? “Did you send them to me?” In a dream he answered me, He said “My darling child, “These friends of yours are angels. “I sent them to make you smile. “You probably don’t remember it, “But you were an angel too. “And just as you ask for them, “Someone once asked for you. “I sent you down to make a friend, “To be a friend that’s true. “And now that you ask for them, “I’m sending them to you.” ”Father thank you!” I cried in joy And just before he went, He turned and smiled at me and said, “Don’t thank me, “Thank your friends.” Image by FlamingText.com

Bhurin Initiate Posts: 9 (12/29/01 1:35:36 am) Reply The Retired Wizard -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is a short story I wrote some time ago. Just thought I would contribute to the local entertainment. The Retired Wizard It was dreadfully humid under the clouded sky that day. It had been raining all month throughout the province, and the air began to reek of the sweet and pungent smell of rotting plants. Though it had let up for a bit, the sound of thunder periodically came from the distance. By now the sounds were not so much menacing as they were depressing, as the gloomy blanket of somber clouds that covered the valley gave a felling that left little up to fear. The sun was missed by many, and the rain relentlessly and selfishly hid it away from them. The road McCleud now traveled was ragged and very muddy. It took his constant concentration to watch for dry foot holes and puddles of silty mud. His long robe was no help either, as it was a matter of youthful pride for himself to keep it clean. Though he knew it would have been easier to travel enroute the forest, the recent local warnings concerning Hobgoblin raids deterred him from doing so. It was risky enough to travel alone, so he made his way as quickly and cleanly as possible. McCleud had been on the road since he completed his training at the Wizards Institution of Technical Theory, otherwise known as WITT, nine months ago. He had graduated with honors in the field of Conjuration, earning him his Silver Star, and the right to seek apprenticeship. Like all other Wizards in training, McCleud had grand dreams of seeking out the great Conjurers of Old and requesting of them the honor of learning from them. However, unlike the other graduates, who had eventually quested their teachings no further from the school then the faculty, McCleud had ventured forth to fulfill his dream. Though it was costing him dearly in the form of wasted time and money, McCleud was determined to seek the greatest Wizard in known legend. Ravenoth the Profound. "By now, Benson has no doubt earned his second star," McCleud mumbled to himself as a lazy drop of water descended from a high branch onto his finely combed, black hair, "He's probably already written his thesis on the Semantics of the Inner Circle." Though the thought of his rival spending all minutes of the day making progress while he himself trudged through the mud bothered McCleud, he knew it would be worth every mile; every indignity; when he found the great Ravenoth and received his teachings. In one month, McCleud estimated, he could get more learning done then Benson could in a year. This greatly appealed to McCleud, so he continued steadily forward. As he rounded a corner decorated with overhanging branches and weeds, McCleud came upon a miserable but greatly appreciated sight. Built on the side of the road, where the thick brush had decided to let up a bit, was a run down but charming tavern. It had one floor, with a porch on the outside covered in plant life coming up through the planks. Windows boarded up in the odd place, and a tilted canopy of dried wood that allowed the rain to slid off. The stairs were actually large rocks smoothed at the top from constant use, and assorted wooden drums of unfathomable use lined the outside walls. A crooked sign, no doubt so for that extra charm, hung over the swinging door, salon-styled entrance, that read, "The Olde Wagon." McCleud, smiling and nodding to himself, said only, "Yes, very charming." Then he gripped his staff happily and entered the establishment. Pushing the doors open as inconspicuously as he possible could, McCleud entered the tavern with relief in heart but caution in mind. Wizards were not always welcomed in some territories, and as McCleud had no idea where he was, he decided it probably be best to play it safe. Immediately he scanned the bar to ascertain who was all currently populating the small but surprisingly spacy bar. The bar was a classic one, like all the others McCleud had encountered on his journeys thus far. It had a sit-at bar with rickety stools; unmatching assorted tables and chairs filling the room; and a dark corner for the less "desirable" clientele. Currently there were eight people occupying the tavern. A bartender with three men sitting in front of him; a woman and two gentlemen at one table, laughing and talking very loudly; and an old man surrounded by books and bags, nursing a drink. McCleud spotted the old man, and suddenly became excited. There were rumors spreading throughout the province that Ravenoth had come to settle somewhere in the valley, but McCleud had been slightly skepptical. But, with the sight of this white bearded gentleman dressed in tattered but obviously once-expensive robes, McCleud was jubilant. "Maybe; it could be Ravenoth." McCleud thought to himself, as he stepped up to the bar. "So Jacob crashed his wagon on this here exact spot. And, as you know, not being the type to waste a full stock of ale because you can't ship it, Jacob built a couple of cloth walls and wooden tables around his wagon, and became the first bartender 'round these parts." The bartender, a stocky, unshaven man, was relaying the story while he wiped an already clean cup to a fine luster. His words were being drunk as keenly and quickly as his ale was by the rather small but captivated audience. "The place has obviously gotten built up over the years, but that's where it got its name." As the customers seated at the bar laughed and toasted to the bartender's story, McCleud took his chance to talk to the bartender. "Excuse me, my good man, might I ask thee a question?" McCleud asked, as he tried to straighten himself to full height. The bartender, spotting McCleud as if he had suddenly appeared in front of him, answered in a casual voice, "You just did." McCleud, sensing that a hazing might result from his next reply, responded carefully, "I guess I did. Might I ask another? After this one of course." The bartender, smiling to himself, obviously found McCleud far too easy of game, so he answered calmly, "Go 'head." "Thank you." McCleud said, sitting down on one of the stools, "I was wondering if you happened to know if that gentleman over there was a practitioner of the Magical arts." "Well..." The bartender stalled, seemingly re-weighing McCleud's credibility, "I think the old timer might be a Wizard. That don't happen to be one of the questions I normally ask." "Quite," McCleud said, leaning in toward the bartender. Signalling the bartender to do the same, McCleud asked, "Would you happen to know his name?" "Listen bub," The bartender said with a slight serious tone to his voice, "now no offence or nothing, but people in these parts normally keep to themselves. We don't poking into other people's business. I don't bother my customers, so I can't answer your question. If ya want ta know the man's name, give him the dignity of asking him yer'self." McCleud, nodding appreciatively, answered, "I understand. Thank you for your help." As the bartender got back to his other customers, McCleud rose to his feet, found his courage, and began to walk over to the old man seated at the far table. A sudden round of laughter from the woman across the bar almost jolted McCleud, but he quickly re-composed himself and approached the man. He hesitated only another moment, for months of searching urged him on and any fears he had were disregarded. As he drew close, the old man looked up and said in a rusty old voice, "Eh? Who are ye? What da ya want?" "Good day, sir. Please excuse my interrupting you," McCleud said, trying to appear formal. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Reminton McCleud, Initiate of the Northern Star, tenth year..." Before McCleud could continue, the old man smiled, his wrinkles suddenly adding years of contentment to his face. He laughed a slight but blissful chuckle, and he said, "Ahh, a WITT man, eh? What brings you to these parts? "Sir, I've been scouring the Free Lands for months, trying to hunt down a Great Wizard of power. I wish to seek an apprenticeship..." Suddenly, the old man's face lost its smile, and he interrupted again, "So they're still doing that, eh? Let me guess. You've spent your young life surrounded by dusty books and even dustier teachers, right?" "Well ah..." McCleud said, caught off guard by the old man's serious tone, "I suppose I..." "And I bet all your friends swore they would track down the great casters and become apprentices the likes of which have never been seen before," The old man said, sipping from his mug as he removed a long pipe from his jacket. "Well..." McCleud tried again. "Well, let me give you a spot of wisdom, Mr. McCleud." The man said, pointing a long, gnarled finger as he began. "Those WITT crones have been sticking to their customs for generations, and look where it's gotten them. Sure, they're rich and successful, but bounded down my young Wizard. Bounded to the ideal, and not to the magic." The bar became quiet as the old man paused to smoke his pipe. When he began again, his voice became loud and surprisingly zealous, "In the old days, when a Wizard completed his schooling, it was when he felt he was done or when he was needed. Many the young Wizard was plucked from school by a band of heros on some God forsaken journey of righteousness. I myself knew an Illusionist whose house was annihilated by a passing Dragon, who wanted to deter its pursuers by torching everything in its path. The so called heroes saved him, but that young Illusionist was given a choice: Join them and aid them with his powers; or return to his family a failure. Some heros! They have courage, sure, but their people skills lack incredibly!" McCleud, who was then signalled to sit by the old man, did so quickly without so much as a word. Once he was seated, the man continued. "In the old days, a Wizard with two spells was considered proficient. Back in those days, we had to write ALL our own spells. Few as that is, they were ours, and we were respected for them. Nowadays, you young'ins learn dozens of spells during your stay at WITT-less, only to go on to learn more spells. You spend your best years behind texts, writing in ink that stains your hands and clothes. What's the point of learning if it only leads to more learning! The chivalry has gone out of the trade, my friend. My advice to you: take your knowledge and become a learned man among the commoners. You'll make more money, more friends, and have far more ‘instances’ with the fairer sex then you ever would as a tired, dried out, fickle man with an addiction to the pipe, and a head full of the impossible.” As the old man finished his drink, McCleud was left speechless. With the words still echoing in the bar McCleud's head, the old man placed a silver piece on the table and said, "Enjoy life, my young friend. Do not spend all of it trying to become like me..." Then, donning a large, floppy hat, the old man stood up, tipped his hat, and walked out of the bar. The silence lasted for a short time, broken at last by the sound of rain pattering on the roof. McCleud, still stunned by the ordeal, sunk his head and remained silent for some time. The hum of talking continued a moment later, the words no longer holding a presence in the bar. Forgotten so quickly. "Are you okay?" McCleud, surprised by the voice, looked up to find the woman kneeling next to him, a friendly but concerned look on her face. She had long, brunette hair and was quite beautiful. Still shocked, it took a moment for McCleud to answer. But, shaking his head, he regained his thoughts and answered, "Oh, yes I'll be fine. Just a little shook up I guess." Sitting down next to him, the woman smiled and asked, "Kinda laid the law down, didn't he?" "Yes, I guess you can say that," McCleud smiled, looking at the door as if expecting to see the man there again. "Was he a friend of yours?" She asked, leaning her head to interrupt his gaze. McCleud, again pausing before answering, responded, "No. No he wasn't. I just wanted to... Well, I don't know. I guess I just set my dreams above reality." Nodding slightly, she placed her hand on his shoulder and said, "A good place for them." "Not when they crash down and reality reminds you they are only dreams," McCleud said, turning back to look at the woman. The woman, still smiling, blinked slowly and asked, "Is there anyway I can help?" McCleud, smiling more out of courtesy then actual joy, answered, "I don't think so." "Well, let me try. Stop by my house up the road about a mile. I'll make some tea and we'll discuss it." McCleud, looking into her friendly eyes, finally nodded and said, "Okay. Thank you." "No problem," She said, rising to her feet and making her way back to her table. After she had gathered her things, she put on a small jacket and said good-bye to her friends. Making her way to the door, she turned back and said, "I’ll see you there." "See you," McCleud said, waving slightly as he watched her leave. As she opened the door, he sat back in his seat and waved the bartender for a drink. He could hear that the rain had stopped, just as suddenly as it had come, and that light was pooling into the bar. The sun was out, for the moment at least. The bartender arrived with McCleud's drink, and McCleud handed him a silver piece of his own and thank him. Once he had it in hand, McCleud raised the mug into the air and said, "Well, here's to the dream. May it rest in its retirement." But, as McCleud went to sip it, the woman poked her head back into the bar and said, "Oh, and by the way McCleud? It's pronounced: Ray-ven noth. Not Raa-ven noth." The End

Bhurin Initiate Posts: 10 (12/31/01 12:06:06 am) Reply The Duel of the Divine -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I wrote this story mostly for fun. It's a shorter recount of a longer battle I once wrote. I liked this better. Enjoy. Pias Procinctu The heavens blazed with sky-fire as the land trembled beneath the relentless roars of thunder howling in the night. The symphony of light that dominated the sky was more awesome then any other any could remember. Like beasts locked in a bloodless battle, this maelstrom was both unnatural and deviant then any mortal could imagine. The almighty were the cause of this horror. The godlike. The divine. As another rapture of thunder tore across the sky, many found they could no longer take the air-charged emotions that were invading their souls. Many fell to their knees and cried, while others howled to the storm in a show of honor and tribute. Though not completely assured of what they saw, their instincts told them that this was a moment like no other. With this night there would be a change throughout the worlds. The divine were here to battle, and would not cease until there was a true end. The blood of gods would flow this night. Suddenly, another bolt of lightening filled the sky, only it appeared larger and brighter then any before it. As the light from the surge of power faded, another began to emit in it's place. The brilliant light, coming from above the storm, seemed to descend closer and closer to the ground with each passing moment. Finally, as the clouds around it burst open with unnatural speed, an orb of light came into view. The orb, impossible to distinguish size or features, shimmered with incredible radiance as it stopped just inside the storm. It radiated purity and hallowed intendment, and the storm was easily kept at bay by whatever powers flowed from it. As the orb continued to shine with power, another act of divine power took place. Thunder, roaring like a beast in pain, began to become louder and more continuous; until it resonated like a heart beat. This intense, dark rolling continued, and the profound contrast between it and the orb intensified. Then, like a nightmare, the thunder took form. The dark clouds, shifting and altering into each other, began to take on a far more different and evil texture. Like flowing liquid, the blackness took form until it was a solid mass of pitch. Then they spoke. The orb, with a formless voice wielding the power of ages, spoke into the air with such force that the remaining clouds around it were pushed like pitiful vapors. "ROTH! BROTHER OF MY MOTHER, AND LEADER OF THE DARK FORCES OF PRU'SIAN! I HATH COMETH TO SLAY YOU TO CONTAIN THE BALANCE TRUE!" The mass of darkness, with a voice that slid over the air like a metal pitched ring, spoke without words, but with thoughts. "Adrial... speaks of slaying uncle dear. Converses of death, to stop the fear. Darkness stays... Through unknown ways. Blame her... I do not. But her acts are null and naught..." "ROTH! YOUR ACTS UPON MY PEOPLE AND THE FOLLOWERS OF LIGHT WILL NO LONGER GO UNINHIBITED! ONCE YOU ARE GONE, A NEW LORD OF DARKNESS SHALL TAKE YOUR PLACE! ONE WHO SHALL KEEP THE UNIVERSAL BALANCE, WITHOUT EXCEPTION!" "Oh my niece... keeper of peace... Your words strike an unknown blow. You have the valor, but not the power, Your acts cometh much too slow. Long beheld my designs be, Yet none reacted to their intent. And now, my niece, you shall now see, Why time in battle is time well spent. "ROTH! FEAR HATH NO PLACE WITHIN MY BEING! I FEAR NOT DEATH, NOR DO I FEAR YOU, LORD OF NIGHTMARES! WE BATTLE NOW, ON THIS PLANE, WHERE WOUNDS INFLICTED SHALL RUN DEEP ENOUGH TO EXTINGUISH YOUR DIVINE BLOOD! MAY THE HIGHER LORDS HAVE MERCY ON YOUR SOUL!" "Battle now, you wish to bring, Whilst I still think it fatuous thought. You least forget that death I sing, A many battles I hath fought. But now, I vow, you'll bow. Watch how." At this, the formless black began to throb along with its thunderous heartbeat. Slowly, like dark blood, the dark liquid began to run off the main form at an accelerated speed. Finally, when little of the dark substance remained, a figure, human in form, emerged from it. A man, draped in black clothes, opened his eyes and perceived the light orb. His hair was long and pitch, his eyes glowed with black radiance. Clutching a sword of incredible size and sheen, the figure lifted the blade and pointed it at the orb. "A FORM IN WHICH TO KILL YOU, BROTHER OF MY MOTHER. YOUR MEANS OF BATTLE IS ACCEPTABLE!" With that, the light orb exploded with a blast of radiance. The light was so brilliant that it could bee seen from hundreds of miles away. When the light at last died down, a cone of light reaching from the ground and into the heavens remained. And, inside, was the form of a human. The figure, female in make up, emerged from the light beam as it began to dissipate. Draped in thin veils of white cloth with golden hair that flowed like a river of warm liquid, the figure held forth a blade that burned with white fire as her eyes burned just as brightly, and said, "HAVE AT THEE!" Roth reacted instantly, diving at Adrial with demonic speed, blade drawn. His blade, vibrating with black power, flashed with reverse light as he brought it down on his assailant. Lifting her blade and deflecting the blow, Adrial easily countered the attack and brought her leg around, connecting with Roth's head. Seemingly unaffected by the blow, Roth reared back and swung the blade again. Barely reflecting the attack this time, Adrial seemed thrown by Roth's increased strength. Lifting her hand, Adrial fired a bolt of white power at her uncle’s abdomen. The bolt, hitting square and true, threw Roth to the ground with incredible force. As he emerged from the crater created by his fall, Adrial forced her blade at Roth in a stabbing motion. Roth, lifting his hand, grabbed the blade out of mid-air and stopped it dead. As ebony blood ran down Adrial's blade, Roth smiled and closed his eyes. Lifting his hand, he sent a beam of power at the Goddess. Like a thousand screaming skulls, the beam hit Adrial and sent her to the ground, shivering. Roth, rising back into the air, held his blade out at arms length and said, "Much you need to learn, If you wish for me to die. If the darkness falls too easily... Always question why." Narrowing her eyes, Adrial fired a blast of radiant light at Roth. As the streams of her own power sent the God into a painful howling rage, she cried, "SPEAK NOT OF YOUR ENEMIES FAULTS IN BATTLE, FOR YOU MAY DISCOVER YOUR OWN!" Roth held up his hand and began reflecting the white bolts away from himself. Raising his other hand, he fired a beam of dark power at Adrial. Lifting her sword and destroying Roth's attack, Adrial intensified her efforts and increased the power of her beam. The energy once again flowed into Roth, and he howled in pain. "FEEL THE PURIFICATION? CONFIDE YOUR COWARDICE TO IT, LORD OF SHAME!" Roth, roaring in anger, lifted both hands and plunged them into the beam. The beam, suddenly becoming black, trailed right back into Adrial's eyes, and she screamed in pain. Falling to her knees and placing her hands on her eyes, she moaned in pain as Roth said, "FOOL! IMBECILE! YOU KNOW NOT WHAT I AM! I AM DOOM! BANEFUL RUIN! I AM THAT IS DAMNED! Now you burn with freezing fire, your power slowly fades, Feel your soul cry out in grief as the fire’s pain invades! When confronting darkness, never endure the light, For shadows bred and born of it, hoard within the night. Now fall, angel. Die, immortal. Be forgotten now this day, For judgement is upon thee now. You have your price to pay." When Adrial regained her sight, she regarded Roth for the first time in fear. Roth had turned himself into a true demon. His form, too formed of nightmares to describe, reeked with torment and hatred. Multiple eyes burned with fury, and large claws akin to death now graced his limbs. Roth was the darkness, and now he wished to destroy the light. Adrial, mind racing, knew what had to be done. With one final wave of her hand, her sword disappeared and she herself began to dissipate. Roaring with a tone of pure evil, Roth screamed. "Oh no you don't, my cowardly fleeing kin. To retreat back now to safety would be your greatest sin. Stay with me, taste my blood. Die now by my hand. Let your wretched hallowed corpse stain this mortal land!" With a cry of death, Roth leapt onto Adrial with all his might. Forcing her to the ground, Roth's claws began to sink into her skin. However, as she fell, Roth realized her ploy. Her own sword, piercing through her back and out her front, sheathed itself into Roth's chest. She had let herself be impaled in order to slay the beast. As sounds of erratic breathing escaped Roth's lips, he whispered to Adrial, "Death comes to all. Even its closest kin. I fall... By your hand. Oblivion... What the feared fear..." With that, Roth converted back into the formless, liquid darkness, before dissipating into nothingness. Adrial, removing her blade from her own back, cringed and said, "AND SO, THE BALANCE IS RESTORED. THERE IS NO VICTOR HERE... ONLY A SURVIVOR..." And, with a flash of light, Adrial was gone. Slowly, without objection, the storm scattered itself into nothingness as well. No one objected, even as the blood of the divine stained the ground. The duel ended, and life continued on. Not forgotten, but not favorably remembered.

Bhurin Initiate Posts: 12 (12/31/01 1:45:35 am) Reply Dear Ballador -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ballador There is nothing that I can say without it sounding both superficial and repeated. But I just wished to share with you that, though I have known you only a short length (days, in fact, at the time of this writing) I know you to be a good person. Without drawing from your work, or your role playing on chat, I can honestly say that. Apart from that, I only have a truth to which I believe in to share. "Joy that is shared is doubled. Sorrow that is shared is halved." My eyes and ears are open, as I know many others' are, should you ever need them. Please be well, and know of all who care for you.

Jechum LoreMaster Posts: 229 (12/31/01 1:07:44 am) Reply Re: In true Balladoriac fashion... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- There is no magic and they say time heals all wounds. Well time doesn’t feel the pain and things that seem to work like magic cause more pain. ” Why did this happen to me? Anyone? I want to know why, and I want to know now. If there is a compassionate, loving god out there, why on earth would he rip them away from me?” I believe no one can answer these questions for you; the answers must come from within yourself. It is my belief that there is a compassionate and loving God out there, who gave us free will for both good and bad. I also believe in the existence of an active envious spirit that hates man, who actively works in trying to separate us from God. The advice I strongly recommend is seek a professional counselor, watch out for magic fixes and take time to mourn. You have come to one of the major turning points in your life. The question is will you let this tragedy destroy you or create you. It is totally up to you what road you take from here. Chris Jechum Newbie, Mage of Shadows the Pen is Mightier than the Sword - Lore Master

Ozymandias the Elder The Founder Posts: 177 (12/26/01 12:23:45 am) Reply Re: In true Peredhil fashion... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- They're not alone in this. Neither are you.

Gyrfalcon25 Bard Posts: 141 (12/25/01 11:42:27 pm) Reply Re: In true Peredhil fashion... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Likewise, I have no words of wisdom, no insight into your situation. I only have these poor words as my statement. I'm sorrowed at your pain, and I wish I could take it away, I hope you find something/one/way to ease that ache of lonliness. ...I'm afraid I can't offer much beyond repeating what Peredhil and Foe have repeated before me, so my last statement is this: We see each other on IRC a lot... if you ever feel the need, you can talk to my privately and unburden yourself. I might not be able to understand totally what you feel, but I'm someone you can talk to.