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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Harmonious_Echos

Quill-Bearer
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Harmonious_Echos last won the day on March 12

Harmonious_Echos had the most liked content!

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About Harmonious_Echos

  • Rank
    Harmonious_echos
  • Birthday 06/12/1984

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    Circleville, Ohio
  • Interests
    Writing(duh) reading, cooking, art...

Previous Fields

  • Characters
    The Nine, Muse
  • Gender
    Male
  • Race/Gender Details
    Harmony is the Ear, who carries within the Nine voices of un-harmony, all distinct, separate, and confusing, chaotic by nature; their flashes of constant communication create the pool of creativity which Muse, a being of total random mischief, lives on. Through Muse, Harmony takes the horrid mumblings and creates something beautiful from them, and writes it down to share. She is one solitary Human & elven child, who bears the indescribable pain of a soul torn into 10 distinct parts...and the indescribable joy of discovering them all; the burden of a Bridger of Worlds.
  • Bio
    Harmony: 5"2, slender, fine-boned, large brown eyes, recently 'chopped' & dyed red-brown hair. 1/16th elven by blood. Was heavily sheltered & protected until the age of 14, when a sudden life-altering magical experience threw her headlong into a rift between worlds, and into her calling in life...and she found her Muse there, waiting, when no human friends were to be found. 'Muse' : the ephemeral voice of chaos, forever shape-shifting, and takes on the personality of whichever inner Voice happens to be strongest at that time--usually mischevious and/or sarcastic, poltergeist-style. She loves to play pranks on everyone around her, especially on Harmony, to whom she's forever tied.
  • Feedback Level
    any and all, except the "great job, keep it up" vague, lame compliments type. Tell me WHAT you like, & why, how I can make it better if possible...please.
  • Pen Job(s)
    Nada. wadda y'want done?

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  1. The light broke over Harmony's face like a warm caress...she had not realized how deeply she missed the sun. Maybe it was the length of her stay under ground? Maybe it was the circumstances of her burial, which were still a fog? Maybe it was Muse, who lept at the crack of light and swarmed through it, leaving her alone, for once...seconds later, a quick 'tapping' rang out as the edges of the door burst inward, some invisible seal breaking, and loosing gusts of dust which spurted at Harmony's face. Slowly she reached out and grasped the handle, a simple curve of metal set in the heavy wood. "PUSH, Muse!" she thought, and pulled, leaning back, using her newfound weight. Slowly the door swung inward, til it stood open, and Harmony tumbled forward through it, laughing and gasping. She shaded her eyes as they adjusted to the bright golden light. Muse was skipping around in miniature fawn form, head-butting tree trunks...tree trunks! And grass! A blue sky opened its soaring chasm above her, and the sunlight sparked and glittered off dew-drops on a long, sloping hillside which spread on two sides. Between the hills, almost directly in front of her, Harmony saw a dimple of a valley, with a tiny brown creek winding down the center. It found its beginnings at the side of the rock-wall face through which she herself had just passed. Harmony left Muse to her rejoicing and studied the wall. It wasn't that high--only a few feet of wall appeared above the door, before disappearing under a thick cover of ivy, and then more grassy hillside, which rose above that. Further up, Harmony saw craggy slopes and snow-capped cliffs. It appeared the entire burial maze was beneath a mountain. No wonder it had been dark...and oddly magical. Harmony started for a moment at the stream, rippling merrily out of a hole in the solid rock beside the door; where did the water come from? There had been no trace of water within, only a moldering dampness. Yet here it was. Muse stopped head-butting trees and chose to jump in the water instead, splashing drops everywhere, bending down to scoop handfuls and fling them; laughing squeakily, she came up with a fish and hurled it at Harmony. Harmony pinned it on the grass with her foot, and grabbling a few sticks, she clicked her fingers to start a fire. It would be nice to eat something real.
  2. Perhaps not time, then, but age? Age is the reason I cannot pass unscathed...because most things I touch, age as I pass..I wish it were not so! To age in an instant truly is a breaking of time's concepts, but then, all concepts are merely one point on the circle of theoretical advance... wheels turning, gathering dust, until we all shudder under the weight and shake ourselves free of it. And write a poem, instead.
  3. As one such intersection, I would have to agree...the Pen is yet another. For myself,it is just, nice, to have a decent conversation without bending time around one's self and accidentally breaking things. Time is awkward and unmanageable. Some bits are gaspingly short, and bright, and hard as diamonds, polished to shine forever in their places; others quiet, and slow, yet quickly, silently pass us by like ships in the night. Many years have passed since I have spoken on the Pen. And I will be back again...
  4. Fairy dust upon the wind, Khione's glitter shaken from above; She crafts her icy magic With a fierce, artistic hand. Next line: A melancholy plum
  5. Hmm...Harmony wonders if this is referring to all the long time writers on this forum who have vanished for years at a time? (Looks around sheepishly) my apologies for the lateness. Glad to finally be back where Muse shines and quills are never dull...
  6. Harmony stood wondering what to do next; but the lure of a door was too much to resist. She stood for several minutes, listening to the sound of the retreating mech, before following Muse's nose down the dimly lit, grimy hallway. Carefully, she stayed to the center of the hall. The dust and muck once again obscured the tiles, but she assumed the green path would follow same as the previous hall. Reaching the dead end, Harmony saw that the decoration, as Muse had called it, was nothing more than a tattered tapestry of green leaves, obviously hand-sewn, obviously old. The edges crumbled when Muse bounded up and sniffed at it. Harmony waved her aside, impatient to see what lay behind it. At that moment, Harmony was struck by a singularly curious sensation; an almost falling, dizzying rolling sensation, followed by a shock of extraordinary pain. She gasped as her muscles tightened against her will, and her body lurched against the tapestry, sliding down to rest on the wall. Muse flashed into a small Fire-sprite, hovering next to her with a worried expression: she could feel the pain, too, but couldn't understand it. This was no magic, no wound. The moment passed, and the sensation eased. Looking down at herself, at her body, Harmony realized that her stomach muscles were tight as steel bands, and beneath that, it felt like her body was curled in on itself. A few minutes more, and Harmony was able to hoist herself back to her feet. Heavily, she reached up to brush away the hanging tapestry. It fell to the floor in rags; behind it, a heavy metal door frame was filled with a hard, solid wooden door. One single hole at the top of the frame blazed with light, warm and golden; sunlight! Harmony's eyes filled with sudden tears. A door to the outside!!
  7. sacrificial maidens in search of evil find what they seek (or does it find them?) armed and cloaked in deepest black, they march to the place of ritual with scowls of deep concentration. Arriving, they circle the altar stone, close their eyes, and count to ten; then, squealing, they chase each other with magic death wands till all have been solidly thumped on the head, and run off to tell Mommy that the others aren't playing fair. The song of slavery haunts these halls
  8. pizza and poems peace falls on the evening all's well with the world
  9. Gnarled and tall, lonely stands the fire-cherry tree; alone it lives amongst the lava flows. No other bears fruit so sweet, or blossom so divine; and none shall see nor taste its fruit til firey rivers wane-- nor taste them then, for fire flows in this great monarch's veins when lava cools, the cherries turn to stone-- and sweetest flower, into rosy quartz.
  10. Tanuchan, that is incredible! *whew* No, I'm too tired to compete just now. But I had to mention how awesome that effort was.
  11. I would like to hear this violin piece...it sounds like one of the great programmatic classical performances...
  12. Oh, I love this. It feels so much like me, right now! We all lie to ourselves about how we want to do things we really don't, so they'll get done...but that doesn't mean we don't KNOW we're boing lied to. Or make us happy about it.
  13. I, too, feel the weight of a mind too full to use. Your poem is long, but I like it.
  14. Red sparks made Harmony think of Hell. They were beautiful, such a warm, tempting color, but so dangerous...red light, red magic, red, always the sign of danger. 'I wonder if this whole hall is red stone underneath the dust?' She wondered. Her hips still felt stiff and sore, even with the lightness enchantment, and each step was getting harder as she walked. Soon she'd have to find someplace to rest, find food, something. Muse, sniggering at her elbow at the mention of food (yes, she knew she looked fat) didn't help. Still thinking, she shifted a foot onto one of the red tiles and pushed down. Just as she'd thought, a distant clicking noise began. Her sixth sense told her whatever made that noise, it wasn't good. But it sounded a long way off, and she was just too tired to keep moving. Too hungry. Too sore. Too confused. she settled herself on the floor against the wall, put up a silence barrier between herself & Muse, and tried to think clearly. A soon as she got in a sitting position, though, her belly became a problem. It jutted out in front of her like a linen-covered hill, forcing her to sit cross-legged and straight-backed, an extremely uncomfortable position. To top it off, the instant she sat down she felt the strangest sensation she'd ever felt before--the baby inside was moving around. Small but forceful kicks and thumps, making her whole body quiver. What do I DO, she wondered--I don't know anything about babies, or having babies! All I know is magic, and how to survive... Suddenly she noticed Muse was making an awfully strong attempt to break the sound-barrier between them. Looking over When she say Harmony looking, she stopped and gestured down the dark tunnel they'd come down. Harmony dropped the sound-barrier and immediately noticed the clicking sound had grown significantly louder. A soft red glow rose from the red floor tiles beneath her feet. With a sigh, she heaved herself to her feet and set off again down the passage in the opposite direction, Muse bouncing along behind, harrying her with agitated squeaks. Harmony's mind couldn't seem to grasp the situation; it kept wandering back to that mysterious rolling, kicking sensation. "Baby's awake" she thought, feeling it quiver again. What a strange, strange thing. She didn't even wonder how she got pregnant, really; it was enough to assume someone--or something--took advantage of her while she was presumed dead. Whoever it was, must be sick in the head, though. To sleep with a 'dead' elf girl, who looked like a human only 12 years old? That's like, gross. But she didn't feel angry, or even taken advantage of--just a sort of soft curiosity. She was still as much herself as she'd been before; only now, she had something more. Some ONE more, she guessed. A someone who wasn't Muse, who would have to accept her for her, for once. Not like all the other pure-blood elves or humans, who looked at her like a freak. The rising noise level in the hall broke into her thoughts, finally, and she turned with her light-staff outstretched, to see a mechanical wonder roll around the corner behind. It was all metal, 'walked' forward by rolling on a wheel of small metal feet, each shifting forward by a turning ball of some sort that acted as a gravity-center. At the sides, it held a variety of blades, which sliced through the air with deceptive slowness, turning only a hair's breadth from the walls of the hall. There was no room to let it pass. Muse screeched and lept for the ceiling, and Harmony undid the constraint on her lightness-spell. Her body floated up toward the domed ceiling, and she snugged herself in alongside a crystal light, as close as she could get. The thing was tall, too, whatever it was. At least it didn't appear to be spelled, or intelligent at all. Only meant to shred whatever was unlucky enough to be in its path. It was slow, though, and she was getting a cramp from hanging sideways along the ceiling before it had moved on enough that she could let herself back down to the floor. She noticed something else, now, too--the mech, whatever it was, was also scraping the floors and walls clean of the decay and moss, leaving them shiny and bare. Maybe it was spelled, after all--she hadn't seen any bits of dirt or filth flying around, and it hadn't been pushing a mountain of decay in front of it. But the dirt must've been going somewhere. The newly cleaned floors weren't all red, either--there was a clearly marked path in green tile, straight down the middle. And up ahead, where a death-shelf lay, the green extended to the shelf before going back to the center of the hall. A sort of safety-path, perhaps? Or maybe the red tiles were a sort of dirt-cleaning trigger, that required something a little heavier than dust & black moss to trigger them. Harmony lowered herself to the floor gently, and took a good look at the green tiles before setting her feet directly on them. Nope, no trap here. A few feet further down the hall, another branch slid off to the right, as grimy as the her hall had been before. She noted the sheared-off look of the grime and dust, and saw that it was literally about 1/2 an inch thick in places, with another 1/2 inch to an inch of moss at the corners. She wondered if she should follow the cleaner path, or take this one & risk the cleaner coming past her again to scrape this path clean, too. As she stood wondering, Muse did a backflip & landed as a white wolf, looking regal & majestic until you noticed it had wide purple eyes & a distinct lack of teeth. It started forward into the muck of the dirty hall, then abruptly stopped & barked, twice. 'This way leads to a dead end', came the thought. 'A dead end, with what looks like a door, hidden under a decoration on that side'. Muse pointed with her long white nose.
  15. Minozil Brass....the William Tell overture. (I blame Muse's influence)
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