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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Vlad

Poet
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Everything posted by Vlad

  1. Vlad

    Lost

    The inconsistency in the first line was intentional, Katz. By diluting the meaning, I suppose you wee closer to the truth. Whenever I added anything, It became so even I couldn't identify with the poem. Both of you, thanks for the comments, I think I have some concretes in my head on what I can and can't get away with in poetry.
  2. A gentle tear on tender face Slowly finding its way down Lost among the raindrops When it hits the ground AN: This has been the hardest post I have ever made. It feels like this could be developed so much more, But I fear that I dilute the meaning. Feedback appreciated.
  3. Vlad

    Vlad

    ~Other~ The original description of Vlad in the GreenRoom. By know it's probably inaccurate because I have grown as both a writer, and Vlad as a character. GreenRoom Description Tralla's writing on my character for Valdar's First Mighty Pen Writing Exchange. She captured the essence of Vlad brilliantly. Vignettes of a Vampire Gryphon's creation of the portal leading to everlasting night. It's found in the items section, so about three posts up. Marvelous descriptions, that man has. Marvelous. Magic in the Workshop The transformation of Vlad from Vampire to Lich took place in the Roleplay "Rage." Rage, a story in the Dreamer Saga
  4. Vlad

    Vlad

    ~Physical Description~
  5. Vlad

    Vlad

    ~Items~ The Reliquery This is the item which houses his soul and essence, granting him the cosmic powers of lichdom. As part of the enchantment on it, it is the one item in the material world he cannot touch. Consequentaly this phylactery is in Minta Rose's possesion, while originally made for [and by] Rosemary. It has several layers of protection on in already, including hallucinagenic charms and a piercing enchantment. The Cross Acquired during his vampiric days, this item was ripped from the throat of a priest before [the priest's] murder, this is Vlad's most prized possesion. It has no enchantments on it, and though he has been presented with the opportunity, Vlad wishes to keep it "plain." It is a small silver trinket, hanging from a chain of gold that in all but the most extreme situations, does not leave his neck. He keeps it as a symbol of his own perseverance, and a reminder to not believe the myths which surrounded his kind, as well as a reminder of his former undead lives. The Dagger A short weapon that has no practical use in killing, but invaluable in cutting ropes, hides, leather, doors, chests, or anything else that one of low regard would need access too. The blade is enchanted to not dull unless in contact with blood, a wry irony of Vlad's curse. Originally belonging to a parent, but one of the few possesions the now-vampire stole when he stole away from home. The specific enchantment placed on it was the effect of a wizard with a twisted sense of humor after Vlad's failed attempt to feed in his earlier years. The Portal Given to Vlad by Gryphon in the latter's attempt to discover the magic of the quill, this is the most curious items in the vampire's possesion. A portal of black onyx, this item is intended to take Vlad to a world of eternal nightfall. Having only aquired this item recently, he has not had the chance to explore it's powers yet, but intends to do so shortly. The Scarab A small golden bug that once dangled from his left ear, this was bought from a necromancer during a Pen carnival. The scarab once bestowed a very convenient protection: it allowed Vlad to withstand the fatal rays of the sun, and granted him a slight protection against holy attacks. He crushed the item shortly after his transformation to a lich, partly in anger at allowing himself to be killed, and partly to emphasise that he no longer needed to fear to dawn.
  6. Vlad

    Vlad

    ~Magical Abilities~ [While still discovering his new found abilities as a lich, this are is temporarily unavailable. Thank you for your time.]
  7. Vlad

    Vlad

    ~Abilities~ [While still discovering his new found abilities as a lich, this are is temporarily unavailable. Thank you for your time.]
  8. Vlad

    Vlad

    ~History~ [This space under construction. Management thanks you for your time.]
  9. ~Brief Description~ Vlad the Imploder is a vampire with an appreciation of the beauty of everyday life. Like other vampires, has immaculate formal dress, retractable fangs, slick black hair, a widow's peak, and sometimes a cape. He is also independant and respectful, however, leaving his once-a-week victims with enough blood to live. He is tall and lanky, with dark green eyes, and a golden cross. Vlad is very low-key, moving quietly, hiding in shadows and manipulating people's minds to forget about him or not notice him. When Vlad was very young, he stole an enchanted ivory dagger from his father and ran away. He was eventually attacked by a vampire and ended up becoming one himself. He then named himself Vlad and is now 322 years old. Disclaimer: This description by written by Katz as part of her quill-quest.
  10. Vlad

    Rage

    A body made impact on his face sending Vlad staggering, then sliding, backwards. A pair of hands slowed his motion, and finally he came to a stop. Trying to adjust his focus, the vampire saw an active elf on top of his torso. For a few minutes he drifted in and out of consciousness, struggling to understand what was happening. Summating the events, Vlad tried to make sense of everything that had just gone on. He remembered stopping between two opposing beings. He remembered being hit from the front, and caught from the back. Probably the action of one of the two he was in the middle of. He felt a blast of energy quite alien to him, and then heard someone talk of a child. He felt something cold, an aura or shadows, from the other end of the room. Trying to recover his thoughts, the pained figure turned to his side began his attempts to stand. Doing so, Vlad quickly realized his legs would never support his weight in this condition. Still on his side, his agony only extended upon feeling another impact near his rib-cage. A sharp crack followed, muffled by whatever hit him. Letting out a moan, he started coughing up blood. The purge let him act through the pain, and the vampire understood there to be a strong source of light from the first combatant. Rising to his knees Vlad crawled away from the emminating figure, before finally taking to his feet and steading his weight against one of the few remaining walls. Looking back he recognized marble fragments near his former position and winced, the pain in his ribs returned sharply. "Hey...you. Lady... what... what's go...going on? Yui?" the vampire managed to get out between heavy breaths.
  11. Vlad

    Rage

    Soft whispers of leather on tile chased down the hall behind Valdar; their echoes drowned out by strong elf screams. Where did that rascal get to? Little bugger stole my... The new figure broke his thoughts upon arriving at a makeshift entrance. Peering in and gathering his thoughts, Vlad noticed four figures. Two he knew, and two he had heard of only through rumor. Fragmented power emminated from the room, and the vampire delicately stepped back, knowing his was out of his league. The room was tense, the air hung dryly, making it almost difficult for the newcomer to move. He sensed hostility nearing a peak, or perhaps receding, but knew for certain that a ricocheting Valdar did not bode well in either case. Focusing in on the samurai to his left Vlad guessed that this was the safer pick, should he be forced to choose sides. A hunched Yui across the room did little to confirm his intuition, but only time would tell. Vlad took a step foreward, but quickly retreated, deciding he had no desire to die just yet. Noticing no open warfare taking place yet, the vampire once again changed his mind and crept into the room, fearing the worst. Muttering to himself, he settled on the least risky path of action. Resolving several calculations mentally, he headed to Valdar's next landing spot, stopping just before he realized he would pass directly between the pair that he had never seen before.
  12. Her parents had been planning for months. This was going to be the perfect day. This would be the best birthday party that an eight-year-old Appy would ever have. Her parents made sure that everything would be perfect. They hired a band. They hired an ice cream man who claimed to have traveled the world in search of desserts. And the circus was coming. This was all to be on the parents’ estate in the middle of Jersey. Naturally, everything went terribly and horribly wrong. The first signs of trouble began in the articulated limousine sent to gather small children from around the state to the party. The second driver had a heart attack. This may have been caused by the millions of brats with too much sugar in their veins, or possibly just Minta Rose. The third driver tried to cover for his comrade, but to no avail. The front end of the limo went straight into the pool, and the tail end of the limo fish-tailed, killing three members of the originally scheduled band. The musicians were quickly replaced by almost professional replacements. While the “Almost Dragonics,” arrived at the party and began to set up their equipment on the pool-side stage, their manager, Wyvern, quickly calculated extra fees he could charge his patrons. The chaos didn’t subside when the Marvelously Fantastic Malarkey and Co. Circus arrived. While advertised as having padded seats and skylights, the Malarkey and Co. Circus had rotting wooden seats and .34 cal holes in the tarp with the faded word ARMY on it. The workers possessed suspicious looks on their faces, and all wore stained T-shirts and caps with the circus emblem. Each robot was nearly identical in construction. Last to arrive was Ferdinand, the shifty eyed ice cream man. Upon arrival, he opened the back of his unmarked conversion van in order to distribute his goods. Trying to better advertise his location, Ferdinand began singing along with his truck’s cliché music in a thick Eastern European accent. Well enough enticed, some children decided to crawl inside and were never seen or heard from again. Unfortunately, the circus animals didn’t take to this music as well as the children, especially Fluffy, the five-year-old baby elephant. Fluffy felt the desire to charge at the abomination. Ferdinand, fearing for his life, took a double-chocolate-Oreo-explosion cone and threw it up to distract the beast. Distracted, Fluffy turned to charge at the actual band, who was warming up. First she headed towards the leopard-skin tattooed guitarist, but turned away upon sight that he was courted by Charlotte the Cheetah. She turned to the keyboardist, but shied away once more upon seeing that he had more piercings than facial tissue. Finally settling upon the drummer, who by pure coincidence had no musical talent, Fluffy made contact. Being seven and a half feet tall with six inch platform shoes didn’t help his chances at survival. Seventeen bones were crushed in one instant. Bloodcurdling screams echoed through the swimming pool. The elongated musician fell over his cymbals. The planets had aligned this fateful day. The drummer became submerged amid countless obscenities. Finally losing control, the parents called in the 101st airborne. Performing a series of rapid pick-and-drop flights, the birthday party quickly came to an end. Ferdinand disappeared in a puff of smoke, and the musicians drowned themselves in the pool, ensuring Wyvern all profits, or losses. Yes, this truly was a birthday that little Appy would remember her entire life. AN: The idea is kind of odd. The brainstorming was fun. The writing was something I wish I could do more often. And I went a little over the 500 word limit. If it makes you feel any better, you can look at only the top/bottom words within the limit. No guarantees that you'll still find the phrase, though!
  13. The poem has a very... soft feel to it. Like it's quitly glowing, or something. I can't really describe what it is that I found, but it's good. The tweaking that you mentioned is relatively absent from this poem. The only place that I could see needing attention would be "For I could not keep such a sight as this to myself" That line is a tad long, but otherwise the poem has great concrete visuals and abstract emotion. Welcome to the Pen, Yog.
  14. Vlad saunters in, having just got word of free magical items. He looks to the signup... He remembers the time Degenero gave him free dating advice and shudders. He remembers the time Zadown gave him free music and shudders. He remembers the time Wyvern gave him "free" beer and shudders a lot. Thinking to himself that the learned never fool and that fools never learn, he proceeds to enlist himself thinking it will make for a good story someday.
  15. The pros and cons of nuclear fission as compared to a gerbil running on a wheel.
  16. I'm going to try it... (Doubly difficult because this keyboard doesn't have the alphabet marked on it...) =( (Triply: I can't spell to save my life...) *Russian* От весны до осни Птици радосна весну встречали, Голоса неслись и даже мне. Жалко лежа на кровати, Я глядил и весен за зимой. Знал что будет все до лета, Но все будет без меня. And now a literal translation back to english, just because I always find those so curious. And I like seing how the sentances are formed differently. An aqcuired taste, no doubt. From spring to autumn Birds happily spring welcome, Voices carried to even me. Poorly laying on a bed, I gazed to springs past winter. I knew it would be all until summer, But all would be without me. Close, eh?
  17. Hmm... I liked the beginning. And I liked the middle. But the ending felt kind of weak compared to the rest. Throughout the poem you use very good concretes and interesting visual images. They were abstract enough to not interrupt the reading, but... I just had fantastic images from "The shore was told to cease/ The fog was rolling/ The sky was paying the toll/ Winds blew through the clouds." The first of those lines; however, seems to contrast with the others, and I'm not sure if that's intentional or not. It implied stopping, while the others imply action. Pieces together beautifully, either way. "From a gripping life/ Never ending her strife/ Until the bitter end/ Of her very life" is slighly awkward to me. It's not stirring any visuals or metaphors in me. I get the part about her life being bad, but it appears to be so much more that you can do with this.
  18. Name: Jarrod Bright Concept: Spiritually Reborn Paladin Race: Human Gender: Male Eyes: Brown Hair: Chestnut Height: 5'8" Weight: 220 lbs Bio: Jarrod grew up in a medium sized village as son to a well off merchant. As an only child, his parents were very loving, but demanding as well. His father, the town's banker, always told Jerrod that the bank awaited his coming of age. Generally it was a plain life, but something about it kept the young Bright unhappy. At the age of fifteen, he ran away from home leaving only a note for his mother. He vowed that someday he'd return, but also made clear that he intended to find his own path in the world. Armed with his father's money purse, Jarrod began his trek to the largest city he could find. The journey, however did not last very long. On the way to finding a city, he came upon a split in the road. The path branched left into the woods, right into the hills, and straight into a what seemed to be a settlement. Weary from living off of berries - he was too weak and ill-equipped to kill even rabbits - Jarrod decided that the settlement was the best choice. At least for the time being. Coming closer, Jarrod realized that this must be a fort of some sort, probably of the army. Low quality leather tents were entrenched in rough soil, tears showed long use, and not a single structure was built with the intent to last. The inhabitants of this town reinforced Jarrod's earlier suspicions, they were as outwardly rough as their dwellings. Gathering courage, Jarrod approached the largest tent, what he assumed to be a locale for social mingling. A heavy smell of ale filled the air as Jarrod walked, and quickly he began to gag. Weakly he made his way inside to be greeted by flying daggers and more people than he imagined could ever fit inside. Slinking to the back, he asked strangers for food and drink. He was lucky to be ignored, most would deliver a swift jab or insulting remark. Dissapointed, Jarrod left the settlement, and went to sleep just outside its perimeter. The next morning, he woke up to find his father's money purse gone, and himself under a surly man's watch. His captor was wide as a boar and twice a fierce, and Jarrod then knew that this was not the way to find the largest city in all of the land. The man identified himself as the lord of the area, an obvious lie, and informed Jarrod of a newly found life of servitude. When the true leader found out that one of his men had a servant, he abducted Jarrod for himself. Several years passed with Jarrod working diligently for his new master with no apparent end in sight. Time worked and transformed his body as Jerrod labored away in the bandit camp. Eventually, he killed a aging bandit and was accepted into the clan as the replacement, as a comrade. His days became less grueling, but remained difficult nonetheless. Instead of chopping wood, he chopped heads; instead of begging for food, he begged for more travelers to abuse. The robberies of wandering people gave him many artifacts of value and hardened him to all but the most heinous of crimes. One autumnal evening around a campfire while retelling tales of wounds he inflicted on others, a scout employed by the bandits rushed towards him. The scout told of great wealth that would pass by near the camp early the next morning, heading from the hills to the woods. When the sun rose, Jarrod was eagerly awaiting the caravan along with the rest of his ilk. Unfortunately for the bandits, this would not be an easy ambush. Two rows of four guarded each vehicle, uniformed in gleaming gold armor. The battle raged several hours, but Jarrod was first to charge and first to fall. Continuing his habit of waking up in akward places, when Jarrod opened his eyes he saw an elderly figure in shimmering gold robes smiling down at him. "Pelor must like you," were the only words the man muttered before walking off. As he got up, Jerrod was struck by the omnipresence of the sun insignia on walls, furniture, fabrics, and everything else around him. He didn't know where his fallen comrades were, and he never felt the urge to ask. The clerics in the temple quickly adopted him as one of their own, and began his training immediately. After several scuffles that Jarrod found himself invovled in, his teachers decided the role of the healer is not one for this man. Still feeling indebted to the order, he took up the surname 'Bright' as well as the sword and swore to cleanse evil in the name of the sun and Pelor. Edit: Yea, I know how to spell. Really, I do.
  19. Hanna. Priscilla. Rachel.
  20. I'm kind of wary about this, but I've got nething better to do. (I think?) Signed up, and partnerless so far.
  21. Smashy McSmasherson? Yep, that's my character! I'll make it good, trust me. Real good. *scampers off to write a back-story*
  22. I'll play, but it's been a while, and I don't remember the settings. So I'm like a newbie, except all creepy-like! (How many people do you want to limit it at? If there's a lot of interest, I'll sit out.)
  23. B-b-but ma'am... You're an idol to us idle ones! OOC: Welcome back! You too Falcon. I guess I'm number three.
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