Justin Silverblade

OOC - Elwen, that's why italics/thoughts are so great. It allows the players to have such a wonderful understanding about the story, and yet play respectably ignorent characters. Best of both worlds. Oh! Also, just in case it may look like Enos' bias against Iriador, it's not because of her secret (He's WAY off that track), but because he simply dislikes magic casters. BPO & Kas, I think your repar with each other's gonna be great. We're gonna need some friendly commraderie (sp?) here. Brute - sad to see you go, but I understand. Thanks for a good send off though; it was great. (I hate it when people just suddenly disappear without mentioning anything, thanks for giving it attention) Salinye - I haven't ignored your other thread, I'm just swamped at the moment (last couple of exams in the next couple of days). I will get to it, I promise. Right, to the show! ~~~~ BiC: Iriador glares. "My name is /Iriador/, NOT Iry..." Rich. Harmon, you're a fool to degrade the title of a mercreny and the only one here with a clear head... But... what is this...? Senora, and now Allen fall to thoughtful concern for this... sorceress? Some whispering behind her eyes that speak of sorrow? Bah. Mere posionning attempts for attention. How typically tyrannical of a mage. And look now! He gives Senora a rosebud? A group of lovesicks and compassionates... the Blade was wise to leave. And now I'm going to actually have to pick up the weight of the "thief" of the group. My talents are great, but can't carry an entire party of fools... Enos spoke, to no-one in particular... It seemed that as his eyes watched the table and the room carefully, he spoke only to himself - his thoughts aloud: "Iriador has a point. The knowledge of our foe is unaccountably larger than our own. Still, it has taken only a slingshot to take down giants. If we stay focussed, and make good use of your wisdom of the subject, Iriador, then I am certain at least some of us have a chance." Personally I'll be fighting my foes between the healer and that walking, talking tower-shield. At this time, Allen continues with his statement: "So, this Elwen... surely she must have some sort of weakness? Do you know of any?" Enos nodded, and a smile began to curl up his lips. Looking to Iriador intently, his ever-full mind seemed to settle in anticipation. And, to those observent of the table... though he had ordered an ale, Enos' cup still stood full.

OOC - Brute! Sorry I didn't mention you last time. I missed your post. So sorry. Damon, you're doing a fine job. Don't be afraid to be assertive; we will listen, and contribute our thoughts and feelings. We're all here to learn. Edited - Elwen posted before I did (I was writing offline). I edited it to fit. ~~~ BiC: "Including you my elderly friend. Those who desert others are not paid, and I will not tolerate insubordination over petty things." Ha! They would desert far before I would. Youth have such weak stomachs for the grisly work. Enos nodded silently, his attention from ale and cranberry juice drawn to Damon. He nodded silently at the debreifing. Once Damon is finished, Enos smiles. His voice once again, becoming invigorated. "An alliance. Between the six of us, I sincerely doubt this Elwen has a chance. I'll name my price Damon, but only when the work gets done. What is money when there are more important things at stake. I may be old, but if the Elwen you speak of has a mirror that could inadvertantly end my life - well that's worth much more then some gold coins." Sitting back into his chair, Enos raised an eyebrow at Iraidor's mentioning, and gazed at the tome. "Oh?" Interesting... she may be of more use than I thought... "Care to enlighten us, my dear?" With sudden remembering, Enos turned to the waitress. "Miss! I need a cranberry juice for the young lass here... and an ale for me." He gave a nod to Senora, his eyes darting for only a moment to the holy symbol around her neck. "It seems this information may require a good drink to take in. Please, continue..."

OOC - Damon et all. I thought I'd add a little spice into this with a character that I rather like. Despite his attitude (which I hope will be fun to interact with), I assure you that me, the PLAYER is more than open to suggestions. Damon, if you'll have me, I think it could be a lot of fun. If not, no worries. Also, if the character doesn't work / clashes, then we'll work it out, hmm? Oh! And one other thing, I like to add my character's thoughts to the story. True none can really hear them, but it adds something I think. If you don't like, let me know and I'll gladly stop. They're usually set aside in italics. Alright. Then, without further adeu (sp?), let me present... ~~~ Look at them... 2 ladies, a fool for a warrior, and a bard. Ha! As if a bard has something to offer such a mission. Still... all can be used in some way I suppose. Rumours, nothing more. An artifact such as the Mirror of Darkness? Highly unlikely. Still, it sounds worth the time of the old, and the lives of the young. Perhaps we shall see... Over many nights, the old man had come down to the tavern to enjoy a meal and a drink silently in his own corner, and his own thoughts. Now, as Dameon made his speech, the man entertained his own thoughts quietly, keeping a close eye on those around him. It will be difficult though. But I am certain that I can intrude on their parley... What's this? The sorceress sighs. "Inari-sama, what a mess..." She will be one I will have to watch. Elves.... Getting up from his unfinished meal, and dropping a couple of coins on the table to pay, he approached. His back was hunched, and an old and tattered tunic was all he managed to wear. He held no stick or cane to help him balance, though his steps were well placed and sure-footed. Attached to his belt was only a dagger, and his money pouch. Evidently his strongest weapon, however, was his mind. His eyes darted back and forth, taking in every part of the tavern He was suspicious of everything, and his deep hazel eyes betrayed overflowed with thought. At times, even his lips mumbled silently, as if there was some inward conversation to be had. Towards Damon he walked, uncaring of the scoffs that many of the tavern patrons gave him. How was an old man to help on a quest to catch a thief? Fools, all of them. To think that age has brought me weakness, a folly of youth. Nothing is what it seems. "Damon." His words were firm, calm, and just above a whisper. His intent was not to hide his words, simply that he felt no need to pronounce to the rest of the tavern his words. "You require my services. I have succeeded in quests such as this before, and I will succeed again. If we can find this 'Elwen', then I will not allow her escape. Before you turn me down, allow me to share my thoughts. If I slow them down, they can leave me, and I will not be paid. But when I do succeed, you'll be thankful." Seemingly done, the old man beggins to turn towards the table, but remembers suddenly a last thought. He laughs to himself and returns his gaze to Damon. "Only a thief knows the mind of a thief." Finally, uncertain of how much the group has heard of his conversation, the old man turns his attention to where Iriador, Senora, Allan and Harmon are seated. Time to impress. "Greetings..." Again his voice is cold, and quiet. His eyes gaze slowly over the table before helping himself to a seat. "My name is Enos. I'd like you to entertain the idea of my joining you." The waitress comes with Harmon's drink. After a moment's hestiation, the old man named Enos threw a few of coins on the table with a smile. Even his voice seemed to regain a lost emotion. "My dear, to pay for the strapping gentleman, and to pay for an ale for the bard as well." The smile, false only to the sharpest of eyes, Enos glanced at Senora before locking his gaze firmly on Irador for a great while. Finally he broke it, seemingly uneasy with his own thoughts. Shaking it off he laughed again. "What's the point in saving gold if you're not willing to spend it? Ladies, can I get you anything?"

Absolutely amazing. I'm thinking the same as you Kas, I'm gonna have to add my name to the list some ol' time. Yui, it's a great treat to see your work. I feel honoured just to gaze upon it. Keep it up! - Justin

Words run rampent. Somtimes that makes them very difficult to catch. But don't worry, they'll find their way into your trap soon enough. Just make sure you leave enough bait. (verses are so picky about their food) (oh, I crack myself up... sigh...) Seriously though Hopper, I'm sorry to hear that you're having troubles. When I absolutely need to write but am too clouded to manage any real art, I just turn on some music, close my eyes and type. Just thoughts that come into your head, as they come in. Don't worry about "composing" anything, just letting thoughts flow. Then, go back later, maybe, if you feel like it, and edit. I know you weren't looking for advice, but like you, after reading I just wanted to share. So, I hear ya. It's no bother at all - you know we're here for you. I hope your personal problems resolve themselves quickly and with as little pain as possible. Yours, - Justin

Alright! Happy birthday m'dear. Wishing you all the best, today, and every day after that. Have fun! - Justin

Hey hey! Happy birthday guys. Have a good day, and a good tomorrow, and a good day after that, and a good day after the day after that, and a good day after the day after the day after that, and... Best wishes. - Justin

The muse will wait for a good time to share it's wisdom, it is patient. And, so are we. I'm glad you're life's real busy (but sad that it's stressful ). Sad to see ya go for a bit, but like they said before me, no worries. You'll be back, and we'll be here. Safe journeys friend. Thanks for the heads up. - Justin

Fate seems to deal bad hands sometimes. Still, don't give up on writing... or at least, don't give up on the hope of writing. We'll miss you horribly, friend, so I hope you come around as often as you can. It is bad news, but keep laughing and living. Wishing you the best in any absence you wish to/are forced to take, - Justin

Late is never a problem. Thanks guys (and gal).

You're not oversensitizing, Blondemoon. I too think this really is disgusting. I've been lucky enough to never have to worry about anything of that sort - though like you Rune, I've known people, unfortunately This person is warped. It's a sad world that could let him come to that conclusion. I'm glad I don't frequent those boards Rune... I'd have freaked out and given him a piece of my mind. Don't think it would do any good, but thinking about it still anyways. *sigh* "Abuse as Justice"... it fouls the ideal really. The words of a coward unwilling to stand up for what's really right. - Justin

Hey thanks guys. It means a lot. 19's the big one (at least in BC, Canada), I'm a full fledged sinner now. Thanks for the B-day wishes (even from those who I don't know too well) and the song(s). I'm having (and will continue to have until the deepest hours of the night) a great day, and I'm looking forward to the year ahead. Off to explore the now unbounded posibilities of youth! (I'll be sure to write about it. ) - Justin PS - Alaeha, that's a trick question! Both! There's nothing quite like a vanilla-chocolate marble cake, though as for icing I must proclaim that either chocolate or vanilla will do but it must have a mint extract mixed in. Mmmmm, mint....

Nice. Wow... 1000 topics means 1000+ poems. A thousand poems amongst the walls of the Pen, and growing. That's amazing when you think of it. Enough to fill a few books, heck, even a series. heheh, I can see it now... So, just a reminder and an inspiration: Keep on writing everyone. The walls continue to grow with spleandor: Tomorrow 2000 topics, next week 5000! But, as we continue to flood the Pen with Art, don't forget the lines of yesterday. If you're looking for a good read, sometimes it pays to just go back a couple of pages. Pick a poet or a title theme and look up some of the older stuff... we've got some real treasures burried here. Upward! Onward! To the drink the wine of kings, and float on clouds of bliss: Write! - Justin

Nice. But sad. Great poetry Gwai. (Why didn't I see this one before?). Definately a goody to read. Thanks so much for sharing. - Justin

Wow, Yui-chan, that really is amazing. Wonderful work. ... With awe, I'm speechless. These members are very lucky. 15 hours is a long time (Even if I had the skill, whcih I certainly don't, I don't think I'd have that kind of patience), and it looks magnificent.

Very nice work. Very powerful. Thank you for sharing Blondemoon.

Hey all! I always worry that my contributions of Poetry vs Prose are much too weighted towards poetry. I do like to write prose and stories, except a lot of the time they just take too long, and become unfinished or "unacceptable" for public consumption. But, what I do keep around is a folder titled "Abstract Thinking" and every once in a while when the muse strikes me, but does not bestow any poetry, a long paragraph or two result. Usually (as the topic description eludes) I find it difficult to bring them to conclusion. But once in a while they come together quite nicely (and on a rare occasion they find their way into "real works" of stories). So here's a couple of them, once again, from "Abstract Thinking". Enjoy! The Question ? “The bane of existence…” ? “The dead end of every road…” ? “The question.” “Ah. I get it, the question. Can it be solved, so that it will not return, and be a loop in the road?” “Influenced by vision, hearing and touch, I can’t solve it. No one can. The loop’s already completed.” “But then, how…?” “There are no true answers. No right answers, or wrong. Everything’s held in our hands, and we can’t see it from other perspectives. That’s impossible.” “That’s not true-” “Yes… yes it is. No one is perfect. There’s always one corner you can’t see around. It can’t be solved.” “An eternal riddle…” “The question.” “Wait… Could that be the answer?” “The question?” “No, the eternal riddle. The answer is no answer.” “Yeah, sure… and there is no spoon.” Life’s Light I’ve seen much in my life, not all good, nor bad. I’ve lived but a short time of my life, but understood it in a great light. One that was bright, and true. Not everything can be lit, but, I’ve seen a great deal of light in my life. As of late, in my young age, I have understood a whole lot more then I’ve seen, and I realize that everything is merely how you perceive it, and little else. It’s about how we interpret the light that allows us to see the picture. This is my knowledge, this is my understanding. Of course, I could be wrong. My intelligence pales in comparison to my wisdom. My wisdom pales in comparison to my ignorance. Life is joyous; I know that. Irony How ironic that we should not live, but die. That we should not enjoy, but endure. That we should not have love and lust, but have love and lost. I find it ironic, that our lives revolve around that which is at the end of the road, whilst we live out our travels. You will tell me what I will become, but not what I am. You will tell me what must and will be, but not what can be. You can you tell me the future, but you will not live with me in the present. Tell me naught what you know nothing of! Judge not my world, if you see yours in a light far beyond the time of mine. Life will be! That, and only that, is the truth to tell. Villainy What makes a villain? A chilling tale, I assure you. ‘Tis no possession, nor mindless philosophy. The Gods themselves do not decide, though perhaps it is a matter of fate. Some things are meant to be, others… controllable. But, what is a villain? A person so forgotten to time and the ways of the universe, who craves only to be remembered, maybe? Betrayed I think, stolen from. One who, on their person was committed so great a sin, became twisted. One whom once was good, as mayhap all are, now no longer resides in the world, but resides against it. A villain is one who is betrayed by the very world that brought them into existence. How cruel. The pulses of evil are strong. The apparent wrong doings of society mean nothing; the laws, the rules, all created only to weed out those who were betrayed, and punish them for their thoughts. A villain is but a hero, lost in the ripples of life, paddling backwards against the flow normality. The only one with a goal, in the whole damnable river, that is attainable. All that is, can not last. It is true. But, chaos is easily sown, and readily grows. Before its death, seeds fly to the world as children, and villains tend the crops again. And it is thanks to this that we may feed, nay, we may feast, whilst others starve. Remember this, children, as you grow old. Villainy is not as is depicted by the world and its champions, but a savior from them and a means to survive. This is truth, and must be known. I speak now, only so that the crops still grow and feed mouths, when all else is lost. Fear not to embrace the darkness… for it keeps us strong indeed.

Hey gang. I was recently blessed with the time to write, and could find no inspiration whatsoever. That's the way of things I guess. But as I was reading though some things of the Pen's, my friend's, and my own work, I found this poem, Terra's Rose, and felt the need to share. I may have already posted it, in which case I'm sorry... but I don't think I have (at least not both parts). It may seem a bit "out there" and that's because it was written for an RPing game, Archmage, and specifically about my time as a member of an evil guild (hurrah for AoD), but I read it over and it should make sense by itself. The reason I'm posting it here is because in reading it I realize just how great a source of inspiration can be to one's writing. I think the language and mood that this sets is far better and more powerful than a lot of my work earlier and later on: it was the people and the place that helped me write such wonderful poetry. It's a two part poem, and kind of long. But I hope you enjoy. Terra’s Rose (Part 1) Born of noble creed and colour Began a tale, bold and true. Slowly as the learning world Turned, this strengthened boy grew. And unto man this broth unfurled Like kindly sap, of tree well known, A flower, sprouted in his kingdom hence, A rose, pure white, to ground was sown. Upon the earthly realm of dust, Of soiled greetings and human lust. Fought along the road of valor, Sword with wanting, of life’s amending, His heart of honour, and eyes of light, Thus actions made, to terra sending. No guard, no wisdom, but faith he led And then to terra a guild so bold, That his kingdom knew, and friends alike, His walking founded, red rose untold Coloured of blood, courage named, Known of ignorance, change unclaimed. And then the moon did show its face: Silent whisperings of the night, And the nobility of said could hear. Cause to bring to he such flight. And never known to the world Where his heart or eye had been, But now its place eerily obvious, Of rose so regal, none could be seen. And that is where our tale dost lie, In the heart of darkened eye. A rose – so black – flourished then, To bring spiked stem to saddened beauty, He worked and laughed, sighed, preyed, To those, his kin, he set his duty. For they had nourished the soiled ground They had shown change well claimed. They knew of spiteful ignorance, And they, with passion, could untame. In the darkness where armies stand, Of rose that grew, they would demand. “To the ground, the ground, My Love! Into thus, whence came your sin, Depart at once, and look not back, For else your strength shall die within!” The shouts of warning, came from him, And as commanded, it did now grow, The dark rose wilted now, inevitable Its demise began, deathly slow. From the dirt, and to the lake Refresh the darkness, and forsake. “To the ground, the ground My Love! I wish to see your beauty now, But wisdom forsakes a sacred look, To the ground! Hear my vow!” But the rose would not be rushed, And as it went, memories flew, “My Love, sweet Love, I know you well, But know you not, nor next your hue.” And so was true, that statement told, Unknown to sprout, unknown of mold. (Part 2) With gentle ginger, the black did float Upon the ground with lifeless stroke. It would die, and would decay, And would be born another day. And when it did, He would gloat. And so was true, that statement told, Unknown to sprout, unknown of mold. And unbeknownst to even He, The voice of sweetness sang “unity!” The garden’s life came born again, Under food of thought, and hardened rain. That unknown sprout would now be. Upon the earthly realm of dust, Of soiled greetings and human lust. So quickly grown after its decay, Dost show its will, its ungodly way. To the night, screaming dreams, A passion burning, on darkened teams, Devoted then, come what may. And that is where our tale dost lie, In the heart of darkened eye. But rose which grew upon the land, Did not show an ebon hand, Nay indeed, its colour true, Was once again, an arrogant hue. It showed its colour, no eye of bland. From the dirt, and to the lake Refresh the darkness, and forsake. The rose is shone in lightened mind No black was there, of olde kind, Indeed now, red rose was present, Blood of passion, rage of peasant. True friend anew, did Darkness find. In the darkness where armies stand, Of rose that grew, they would demand. That was truth, beyond all hope, For this third coming was all that wrote, Of beauty’s rose, held so dearly, In the garden of one man, merely. And no soul could deny an end of rope.

Upon reading this, Deg, I found the immeadiate desire to respond, and say something deeply moving. Something that would convey to you a sense of thoughtfulness, comfort, and pride: A thoughtful notion for you to spend a moment with. A sense of comfort given to you by another, reaching out across the road of Life. And a message of pride to force you to realize that as much as you thank us, we owe you thanks. But I have, ironically, lost the words. It's tough you know; often I don't respond to many of these posts, or at least not very well. Not out of any notion of fear or uncaring, but I find it difficult to express the only thing I can share - a feeling or two. My life is still young. It is not without it's bliss and tragedy, but in comparison to some of the difficulties I read about other members having, I realize that I can not compare. I can not say "I know what it's like", "I've been there" or "I feel your pain" or any of the other understandings of life... but I want to anyways. So Degenero, even though I can not find the words, and cannot compare to most of what you've been though or are going though, I still feel that connection of empathy (if that's the right word), and truely hope that things turn around for the better for you quickly. Like Tasselhoff, I've always got an open ear. In the absense of my own ability to convey meaning, I'll take a page from your book to conclude, if you don't mind. Here's to a guy who I don't know as well as I should. Thanks for being here. Thanks for your literature. Thanks for being a part of the Pen. I hope you continue to do so for a great while. Keep on living. Keep on writing. - Justin

Huh. Like the form, not the poem they used to describe it. Ah well. Triolet was my alternate. PS - Yui, yes... it's very strange. Just goes to show the uh... uniqueness of the Pen I guess. Short, terse, unfriendly, Yet sometimes quite emotive; I am the Haiku. What Poetry Form Are You?

Hmm, this is a very interesting topic/poem whynotsin. At first it feels very sad, and I feel badly for the Lost child of the heavens. But then as the speaker continues, and he compares mortality to worse than a black hole, I become agitated towards him (not the child of the heavens, but the speaker, possibly the one that banished him?). Before it sounded as if the speaker was sad for him, but the poem offers a scary insight to mortality. Very thought provoking, and and has a good celestial (is that the right word?) feeling which I like. If I could offer one suggestion - in the 3rd/4th verses you change the from "you" to "he" which caught me off guard a bit. I would move the last line of the 3rd verse to the beggining of the 4th verse, to help seperate the change and make it less confusing, or just change it all back to "you". Just a thought, if you don't like the idea then ignore it. Thanks for sharing though, I enjoyed it. - Justin

You didn't like it too much Falcon? Bah! I thought it was great! Fav lines of mine (though lots of them struck out): I know I'm not the brightest soul to sparkle on this rock But I love you nonetheless m'dear, and I hope I'm not too plain But it says the things I meant to say, and I hope it says them right The first line with its humility caught my eye immediately and then it was just great work from there. Yeah, maybe you think it's a bit hallmark-y, but I think that hallmark could learn a thing 'er two from you. This Rachel gal's pretty lucky if the poem is actually about someone you know (though if it is about your feelings, there's a couple of lines in there that I'd despute ). So you want my opinion? Give it a look over to make sure it's actually how you wanted (if you haven't already done that), and then sign, seal, and deliver it. I think it's a love-poem keeper. Thanks for sharing Falcon, it was a pleasure reading. - Justin

Great poem, whynotsin. Abstract poetry is good, but there is certainly something to be said for a poem that tells a story. I enjoyed this one very much. Also, it also offers interesting insight to the relationship between youth and age. Much more than just a story, I think. Thanks for sharing. - Justin

Wonderful work Tralla. I enjoyed it quite a bit. A very moving piece. Thank you. - Justin (PS - love your signature quote by Emerson)

Nods in agreement with Peredhil. A good poem in its thoughts. Well conveyed. Thanks! - Justin