Vlad

^ | | | | (what he said)

...and peredhil wins a cookie! Or at least two thirds of one... Icarus can have the other third... #1 you are both wrong, I think I could have done it better... #2, the sky/atmosphere #3, a circle (why thanx nyyark, did he tell you? In that case he gets part of your share of the cookie ) ===Vlad the rage-aholic=== I can't live without rage-ahol! "Me is smart. Dur." -Stick

What is it? #1 Running, running, running... Running, running, ouch. The colission is a pain, All I see is red, Blurry, blurry red, Deep dark red of my blood, Wash it away, sterilize, The red is still there, A hard and crusty red, Stands tall, mockingly. What is it? #2 So vast, and empty, Yet full of life, Deep and seemingly endless, Like a cauldron of mixing, Gases swirling, dizzy, Tranquil and destructive, Clear, but not translucent, A sea of seas, We are but prisoners, Inside of this dungeon. What is it? #3 Simple, who thought of it, Never breaking, Looping with no end, Stare at the sun, Or down a cup, Faces and eyes. ===Vlad the rage-aholic=== I can't live without rage-ahol! "Me is smart. Dur." -Stick

John had been walking around the pen for quite a while now, and this is no easy feat, with little or great quantities of luck, depending how you look at it. He had not run into the ravenous mob, but under the current light his new costume looked just plain awful. His hat was off-center, the shirt was wrinkled, and the pants were spotted. What type of normal person would wear spotted pants. Then again, John was hardly what you would call normal. As he walked along aimlessly, his biggest worry was that his costume looked bad! There was nobody to wear the costume for, nobody to impress, no buisiness meeting to attend, so why would one care if his shirt had a fold in it. A fold so miniscule that it was completely unnotacable because of the striped pattern. That was his second biggest concern, vertical stripes make people seem skinny. He made a mental reminder to get a camera, it does add forty pounds. John's thoughts just trailed off from there, and one would not enjoy reading them. These thoughts are so unimportant, so obscure, that obscure isn't enough to describe them. Yet these very same thoughts pre-occupied John so much that he walked into a large sign with a definite thud. John stopped to get his bearings for a moment, not realizing where he was. All places tend to look the same to the untrained eye, and John was most definetly untrained. As new thoughts concerning location and how to get back to the pen flooded this poor simpleton's mind, he looked up at the sign in admiration. It was a masterpiece, a perfect overhead view of the Pen keep, complete with markings for where all the rooms are. Then a momentus event took place. An idea must have gotten lost and somehow crawled into John's skull, for he realized it was a map. It is a mystery if the you are here symbol or the title, Map of the Pen and Vicinity, gave it away, but somehow John realized this and quickly began formulating an elaborate plan on how to get back in the Keep. He saw a marking that said "East Gate", and immediately began deciding if it would be more prudent to climb over it, or tunnel under. He decided to look at the most likely impregnable gate before comiting, but favored climbing more. No sense in getting his costume wrinkled and dirty. Ready to pursue this course of action, John promptly headed of to the west, reasoning that if he were to sneak up on the gate from behind, his task would be lessened. While traveling westward, Jonh began to see a shape form in the distance. It seemed to be a rather large gate with some people standing beside it. Four-legged people to be exact. Vlad decided that some sort of action must be happening at this east gate. He hadn't realized that this is the west gate yet, and wouldn't for quite a long time. As he approached, he could hear snipets of conversation but decided to stay hidden in the shrubbery for now.

Hmm... I though I did comment. O well. It conveys imagery. Very well in fact. I see a struggle, internal possible. I would like to hear Nyyark's opinion on this... ===Vlad the rage-aholic=== I can't live without rage-ahol! "Me is smart. Dur." -Stick

Veesho was slowly awakening from what seemed to be a horrible nightmare. Goblins, fighting, swords, and a wagon. A very crudely built little wagon. Veesho smelled a foul odor, and recognized it as goblin. He decided he hadn't been dreaming. He thought he really was dead now, and he had gone to hell. When Vessho first opened his eyes in this new place, all he saw was black. Darkness enveloping him like a desease. As he lay there he felt very sore. Could barely move an inch, let alone suffer through eternal torment. Then he saw a goblin face, staring at him intently. Veesho heard the creature mumbling something about humans and how complicated their life signs were. The goblin obviously thought his specimen was dead. As soon as Veesho thought the goblin had left the room, he forced himself to get up, and look around. If he's going to live here forever, he might as well get to know the place. Getting up proved more difficult than it seemed at first, and during the process, Veesho stifled at least a half-dozen urges to yell out in pain. He wasn't able to stand, but managed to sit leaning against a wall of the cave. Hopefully the goblin won't come back anytime soon. was the last thing he thought before falling into a deep sleep, and falling over onto the floor.

OOC: Sorta disregard the post I made in the ooc thread. I'm gonna keep John around, and Vlad will be nowhere to be seen. BTW, I'm not going to wait for you to leave town to make my appearance, but you won't have to take me into the group... If I happen to guess wrong on somebody's reaction then tell me and I will fix it. IC: Kasmandre didn't respond at first, thinking he heard something. Or someone. He realized that if there was one assassin, there would doubtless be more. Would all of them be as good as the first? He tried to dismiss that thought, but it wouldn't leave his mind. Daryl put a hand on Kasmandre's shoulder calmingly. "You can trust her," Daryl stated, mistaking his comrade's paranoia for indecision. The city was becoming more tranquil by the minute, as the sun would soon be setting, and the citizens were getting ready to go indoors. The police were starting to give up on the search, figuring that the outlaws had left town, or commited suicide out of fear. Then another noise came by. This time not only Kasmandre heard it. As it reached the ears of lycanthropes and the Seven, they too wondered what it could be. Was it a bird? Or a flying mage? No, just a man running for his life. A familiar figure ran through the streets near the tree house, and he had had quite a night, being almost naked and all. Some people were still chasing him, not the authorities, but the local angry mob. Armed with torches and pitchforks, they yelled random obscenities at their target, who was eluding them by sheer luck. Occasionally he tried to stop, and grab one of the torches to keep warm, while snow slightly covered the ground. By now the man and the mob were far away from any recognizable place John had ever recognized. He was hopelessly lost. And rather lonely. Getting tired from this chase, and wishing to stay alive as well, John was quickly running out of options. He couldn't fight them, the odds were clearly against him. Telling them to stop wouldn't work, most had already sacrificed a nights sleep and wouldn't consent to giving up now. As the figurative wheels in his head turned, John came up with an idea that had worked once before. Only once. He suddenly stopped running, and jumped off to the side. He landed behind a rather large tree, and partly fell into an open sewer. John looked up and around, and saw no-one who could help him if he was stuck. The lynch mob ran by, not noticing him and his plight (the non-mob related one). A few minutes after the trampling subsided, John slowly left his hiding place. He walked towards the nearest store, and was lucky enough to find a few coins on the ground. Most likely from the mob. John bought a shnazzy new uniform, unfortunatly it made him look like a jester. Or fool, as they are sometimes known. Thinking the mob would not recognize him, John began walking around the outskirts of town. (fixed)

Is it by any chance based on fact? Very well written either way. ---Vlad the Imploder--- No relation to Vlad the Impaler "Me is smart. Dur." -Stick

Quote:Posted by crowgirl1126: I bet that my problems would be 10% of what they are if I had a higher self-image and adequate self-esteem. Well I bet that I'd have a girlfriend if I had a higher self-image and adequate self-esteem, so there. My problems are greater than yours. ---Vlad the Imploder--- No relation to Vlad the Impaler "Me is smart. Dur." -Stick Edited by: Vlad the Imploder at: 12/2/02 3:43:40 pm

This is very good indeed. The picture you paint is definetly worth a thousand words, even though you only gave it... *too lazy to count* ...several. damn you, Degenero. I found that quote a few days ago and was thinking of replacing the 'Me is smart' with it. Oh well, you got to it first, enjoy! :/ ---Vlad the Imploder--- No relation to Vlad the Impaler "Me is smart. Dur." -Stick

Did you carry the olympic torch by any chance? If you didn', this still has plenty of symbolism in it... ---Vlad the Imploder--- No relation to Vlad the Impaler "Me is smart. Dur." -Stick

The Big Pointy One posted, Vlad the Imploder posted, OOC: Just remember, I am John. The two men were getting ready to start looking for Ren again, when they were encountered by the meanest burlyest, uglyest bunch of police officers they had ever seen. These two don't get out much. As the officers approached, James (Man 2) readied his bow in the only way he knew how. Point the stick at the guy and hope it hits. John (Man 1) on the other hand, was prepared to surrender at any given moment, with his sabre trembling in hand. The officers all had nice gray uniforms, with helmets like those of World War I germans. There were five in all, ranging in height drastically. In fact, the difference was so severe that one was completly hidden by another. The one in front had a long long-sword that he expertly wielded, wheras the one in back had a crossbow which he aimed through the hole between the tall one's legs. John happened to see the crossbow, and it caused something inside of his mind to snap. John slowly turned to his left, eyeing everyone carefully. He lunged forward at his former comrade, and madly slashed with his blade. Luckily for James, only his top five layers of clothes were torn, and he remained unharmed physically, if not mentally. This behavior not only stunned the guards, but also made them question their opponent's sanity. Deciding it would be dangerous to actually hurt these madmen, the guards put down their weapons and charged at their foes. Seeing the charge, James let go of the arrow he had set in his bow earlier. Unfortunatly, he used the bow backwards, and the arrow went straight into his gut. Seeing his partner, or former partner, fall to the ground in agony, John immediately suspected magic on the part of the cops, and as such, began to run. He ran and ran and ran... in circles, while the law stared in pure horror. One officer, apparently getting dizzy watching the mentally unstable man decided to put a stop to this. He slowly apprpoached John, planning on knocking him out, and hopefully not doing any permanent brain damage. Scientists might want to study this subject. As soon as he got close, John ran towards a wall and did a stunt very reminiscent of the matrix. This only added to the officers confusion. Possibly realizing this is a good time to try an escape, or maybe just by dumb luck, John ran throught the street, and soon encountered the furry trio. Seeing them didn't make him slow down, but the opposite. John started running even faster, thinking he had had too much of the 'funky white powder' as he called it. Walking animals, what next?

Ya beat me to it. I wanted to start the topic... Oh well, I'll be here for the non-denomenational winter festivities that take place on the day after December twenty-fourth. *grins* ---Vlad the Imploder--- No relation to Vlad the Impaler "Me is smart. Dur." -Stick

what he said. =)

Rezure, you understand Russian? Or at least some language in that family? What are rare thing to see... ---Vlad the Imploder--- No relation to Vlad the Impaler "Me is smart. Dur." -Stick

Oh, and I was afraid to comment in here, so I started a whole new topic in the critics corner...

The dwarves aren't the only thing Wyvern has thats tiny... *runs away... far, far away* Edited by: Vlad the Imploder at: 11/29/02 8:38:07 am

Rev, I gotta hand it to you. You are good. *Pulls a big "I" and "T" out of his pocket* (applause)

Holy sh it Tralla! That sig is awesome. With your name and the faces and the...(trails off listing reasons) *starts seizuring* Sorry. That happens to me sometimes. =D

(Conversion confusion, this is actually the fourth post in this thread) This is... interesting, to say the least. I like how you made the last two stanzas, but didn't notice it at first. Or at all, if you hadn't told me. I agree with Icarus in that you need to work on structure. If the last stanzas were more obviusly liked to the rest of the poem, I think you would be fine. Just extend them. ---Vlad the Imploder--- No relation to Vlad the Impaler "If I had $75 for every time that happened, by the way, it'll cost you $75..." -Dr. Hibbert "Hello, everybody!" -Dr. Nick "Me is smart. Dur." -Stick

A story within a story. Marvelous. Simply amazing. No... I'll go back to marvelous. It's amazingly marvelous! ---Vlad the Imploder--- No relation to Vlad the Impaler "If I had $75 for every time that happened, by the way, it'll cost you $75..." -Dr. Hibbert "Hello, everybody!" -Dr. Nick "Me is smart. Dur." -Stick

OOC: I'm assuming this is a fairly large city... I'm also going to have two guys for a few posts, one will die, don't worry. IC: As Kasmandre was running from the cops, and the were-creatures were conversing, a different course of events was taking place elsewhere. In an alley off of the main street in town, which also happened to be the street Kasmandre was running down, two men were plotting. Man 1-So, the boss sends us to this town no one's ever heard of... Man 2-...to kill a guy named Remme. Yes. Man 1-I though his name was Reg. Like Reggie, but shorter. Man 2-Well, read the note boss gave us. Man 1-Don't you have it? Man 2-I remember boss handing it to you. Man 1-@#^&!!! Wha'da we do now? Man 2-Let's ask this nice gentleman running by... Man 1-He won't stop to talk to you, the authorities *cough* are after him. Man 2-Well, let's ask them. The two men leave the cover of the alley, and step out into plain view. They obviously never have heard of this place. One is wearing shorts, no top, the other has several layers of clothes on, not to mention gloves and a hat. Man 2-Excuse me, officer? Officer-Can't ya see I'm busy, buddy? Man 1-Hey, isn't that Jerry's body? Man 2-Yes, I think it is. But it can't be... He's off by some place called "The Pen". Man 1-I think that guy was our man. Man 2-Really?? The second man pulls out a rather large object out of an unseen pocket. It appears to be a horribly contructed bow, with a band of rubber for the string, and twigs for arrows. Man 1-What is that thing? Man 2-I was about to ask you how I use it... Man 1-If we get this guy, I think we get a raise. Man 2-How can you think about money when Jerry is lying dead right next to you. By the time this dastardly duo figured out to chase after Ren, they are the only two left in the street. OOC: I hope I didn't take this too lightly. ---Vlad the Imploder--- No relation to Vlad the Impaler "If I had $75 for every time that happened, by the way, it'll cost you $75..." -Dr. Hibbert "Hello, everybody!" -Dr. Nick "Me is smart. Dur." -Stick

The Big Pointy One posted, Vlad the Imploder posted, OOC: We were in a cave?!? *goes on a 3 minute swearing frenzy* I thought only Legman went into the cave. Oh well. The following post is rated PG-13 for blood & gore. IC: The boy was trying to reach the front lines against the double-headed creature when it happened. The black mist. He had seen it once before... ~ Cue flashback music ~ Boy - Father, no! Don't go! I'll miss you... Father - I must, it is in our blood. Boy - Noooooooooooooo! Father - Veesho, you must remember the... As Veesho's father was imparting his last words on the boy, he was enveloped in a smooth black mist, and his voice trailed off. Boy - Remember what? You can't leave me here... ~ Back in real time ~ As Veesho was reminiscing of the past, the goblins began to get organized. One of them charged at him, and bashed his non-weapon weilding arm. It may have been broken. Snapping back into reality, Veesho slashed at the nearest goblin, creating a red river. The goblin fell to his knees, the blade had a strange enchantment on it. Seeing one of their comrades fall, made the other goblins even more enraged. As half a dozen charged and surrounded him, Veesho tried helplessly to fend them off, but couldn't. All bruised and battered, he should be down for the count, but refused to die. He crawled over to the nearest body, and started eating the internal organs. He gorged on them as if there was no tommorow, or as if they could save his life. As he did so, his wounds began to heal. Slowly at first, but then faster. Unfortunatly, before he could regain his health completely, a blade pierced the back of his neck, and Veesho laid still. Lifeless, and vulnerable, with not a care in the world. If one was to look at his face, you could see a faint hint of a smile. OOC: If someone has a way to save him and stay within the plot, go ahead (looks at stick). If not, me dead.

Striped graphic, two cats, and a philosophical quote... What is this??? Open mic. night?

OOC: Forgive any typos ahead of time. Kind of in a rush. Edit it later... (Proofread) IC: After they confrontation with the supply cheif and various other soldiers, the boy was beginning to make a nuicance of himself. This is probabaly why the boy was chosen by Legman to accompany him. This was not your ordinary boy, but Legman was not your ordinary general. Legman was a talented man, and the boy was a diamond (I use that term loosely) in the rough. Definetly had potential, but was quite a loose cannon. The boy would hold on to the smallest details and use them against you ten years down the line, but often missed the big picture. He would have a serene look in his eyes one moment, and be blazing on fire the next. Guilty until proven innocent, or maybe innocent until proven guilty. Or both. No one was ever quite sure. When asked about himself the boy would not give a name, age, or residence. He kept to himself mostly, not talking about his past, or plans for the future. Some who got close to him, or as close as he would allow, call him aloof from everything. Like one who is at peace with himself, but doesn't know it yet. A constant bewilderment. As the company approached with caution, the boy charged forward madly, yelling and waving his weapon around, as if something in his mind snapped. He would have probably gotten away from the enterage, had he not been stopped by the mage. Being restrained didn't help the situation at all. It only caused more yells and frantic jerks. At this point some of the soldiers were becoming alarmed. Mutiny, some thought, while other expected to see goblins. When discovering it was only a boy, one of the soldiers hit him on the head with an axe-handle. This blow was sufficient to knock a full-grown man unconsious, but the boy refused to go down. "Let's just let him go. If he dies it's his fault. No sense letting the goblins know we are here as well." A voice suggested. OOC:I'm letting someone else decide if he leaves the group at this point. More OOC: Not my best piece. Also going to be gone for four days, so no posts.