Quincunx

Odeafemme hugged Mirfemme close, keeping her face turned away from the operating robot, as Ludmila tapped through the help displays. In contrast, Czalfemme hovered over the table and stared at the cauterized crater-like wound, the chunk of scalp and brain almost obscured by the jar and its nanobots, and the immobile arm of the robot. "You know what the penalties are for failing to aid a purestrain, don't you?" she snapped. Ludmila jabbed her finger at Czalfemme, swore, and retorted, "I have to share a cell with the person who lets one be wounded, isn't it, Meigan? Shut up and let me debug this thing. I just lost the right screen--damn!" The smallest Parthene shrieked and tried to shut out the sudden alarm with her hands over her ears; Lucia's mouth babbled whatever came to mind, as noisily as she could. Neither girl could drown out the sound. After two minutes, Ludmila fluffed out her cheeks with a sigh and cut power to the robot's arm and its alarm, then deleted details of the current procedure. Czalfemme reached out with one fingertip and touched Tzimfemme's cold eyelid, on the uninjured side of her face, then saw Ludmila from the corner of her own eye and screeched, "What are you DOING!?" "Deleting the records of this surgery, audiovisual and written," Ludmila muttered, staring Meigan down, "unless you're willing to follow through on that threat. And what will the judge tell you?" " 'Seven years' imprisonment and/or two virtue boosters appropriate to the scope of the crime' ," quoted Czalfemme, with a dry throat. " 'Crimes against the purestrains by purestrains, as with most interpersonal crime, occur due to a lack of empathy; at times these are augmented by contempt of the purestrain or greater community, disrespect for individuality within a given purestrain community, or protest against the falling fertility rates of purestrain humans.' " "My uncle, he used to live by himself, he's got a community booster in his head now," Odeafemme offered, as Ludmila returned to the displays. "He's kind of a nuisance. He never goes home! Ever! I mean, we're Westunions, super happy communal family, my house is your house, but we don't hang around each other all the time. We're by ourselves sometimes!" Mirfemme spoke up with a whimper. "He used to sit on the steps outside, where we do. . .but not any more." The Parthenes stared at each other. Even Odeafemme bit her underlip and said nothing for awhile. ". . .Ohmygod, that's it?" she despaired, after a few minutes. "One of us dies and we go back to the steps and say nothing about it, again? Ever?" "Suicide," Ludmila interjected. "What?" "I'm filing her as a suicide. The city is desperate to preserve purestrains, and experiments with all possible ways to revive one who has no entanglements. Horrible experiments, but if you insist that it's better than death," Tzimfemme's mother moved her finger up the form to the Genealogy section and deleted a line, "the Magicians' Experimental Enclave will receive her body. Maybe the magic of the old world can revive her; the researchers there did rediscover maggot therapy. . ." "Maggots?!" squealed Mirfemme, as she skittered away from Ludmila. Ludmila unlocked the table clamps and allowed the surface, and the body, to hover unsupported. "Maggots, mineral mud, and melodies, like their banner says, they'll try anything--except what already works. Either way, she's dead to us. Experimentals don't allow outside visitors or live releases."

"Of course I did!" Rydia's reply got lost in her shawl, but her tone did not. "She was murdered! Right in front of me!" Tzimfemme tilted her head away and gave Rydia more of her right eye than her left. "You act as though you never saw that before, during the mage wars--" she mused aloud, while her eyes took on a feverish glitter. Rydia wrenched the shawl away from her face, and her ears snapped to attention. "I didn't!" "--and Minta was unrepentant, this time I had no need. . .you did, Rydia." "We were all reincarnated afterwards!" The elf continued flapping her hands at the shawl after it had been smoothed back into its usual place. "Death wasn't. . .wasn't. . ." "Absolute. Final. Real." Tzimfemme spat phlegmy words, and shivered. "You don't remember." Rydia burst out, "It wasn't murder! Don't you understand?" She looked down at Tzimfemme and saw her expression mirrored, complete to the traces of silver washing around in the irises. Gaze met gaze, and the quincunx power burnt out from both; they wrenched their faces away from each other and surveyed the forest instead. One of Rydia's ears formed another question mark and the other one tracked the scarred trails in the peat, while Tzimfemme folded in on herself. The elf's eyes caught up with the gnome just as she popped out from the rock's overhang. "No fair!" Minta shrieked. "You got to be there an' I didn't an' you didn't even wanna be!" The gnome stamped her feet and left more welts in the forest floor, then clenched her hands together. "No fair, no fair, no fair! No pretendin' you weren't no fair!" Mana gobbed together around Minta's hands and darkened to fluorescent green. "You shouldn't have been eavesdropping and don't you dare throw that spell!" Rydia ordered. "An' I didn't even get to make a spell-castin' lich either! Meanie Rose took it!" screamed Minta. She swatted at the air, and the gob of poisoned mana slipped off of her hand, splattering over the oblivious naked mage. Rydia spared half a second to flick a curative spell at Tzimfemme before jumping down from the rock, pulling Minta upright from her tantrum, and dragging the screeching gnome to the concealed door. "I've never seen you so rude!" Rydia held up Minta by one wrist while she squirmed and kicked pebbles and clumps of moss; wispy silver strands, at the point of contact, whipped at each other. "What would your precious zombies think if they saw you behaving like this? Would they listen to you?" The elf's tendrils coiled around the gnome's and crept further down Minta's arm. "Now you're going to come inside and sit quietly until you can behave! And don't track mud all over my floors! Leave your shoes at the door!" She pushed the rock ajar, released Minta on the doormat, descended the stairs, and waited with foot and ear tapping. The naked mage drew closer to the door and ran her eyes along the strands of Rydia's quincunx power, now tugging the gnome upright and lifting her out of her shoes. Minta squatted down, grabbed her sneakers, threw them at the entryway (barely missing Tzimfemme), and stomped down the rest of the steps. Tzimfemme stopped in the entryway and gazed at Minta's muddy zombie-leather shoes. After some time, she raised her right hand to the side of her head and brushed her fingertips against it. Both of Rydia's ears curled and she looked up the stairs at the naked mage. She extended a silvery thread over to Tzimfemme; when it made contact, the elf shivered, and all of her threads frayed into dust. Minta wriggled her wrists, stuck out her tongue, flopped down on the floor, and resumed her doodles. Rydia walked over to Minta, squatted down, and whispered into her ear. The gnome put her nose a hand's width away from her parchment and kept doodling; Rydia glanced up at Tzimfemme again, then said in a normal tone of voice, "I bet you don't know, and you just won't admit you don't know." Minta cast a quick spell and looked befuddled, then scrambled to her feet and stared up the staircase as well. "Well?" Rydia whispered. "I dunno," the gnome thought aloud. "Is not a vampire nownow, an' not a lich 'cause she doesn't get crazy 'bout a phylactery, an' not lotsa other undeads 'cause she can eat an' drink an' stuff. An' is definitely not an angel an' am pretty sure she's not a devil. Oh yeah, an' she was a vampire 'way back when me an' Rose came to see you," Minta added. She grabbed for the nearest zombie-meat crayon and scrawled necromantic notes all over the back side of her parchment, with Rydia hovering over her. "Rydia. . .Archangel Rydia. . ." The elf froze. Only her eyes moved towards the source of the black-hole voice: Tzimfemme, at the top of the stairs still, her mouth slackened and the fingertips of her right hand sunk into her skull.

Stop thinking about me! The hair over my ears is crinkling from the heat! Dreams: Have you ever had a dream/experience where you couldn't decide, in the end, whether or not it actually happened? Bodies: Have you ever spun yourself to a new level of consciousness?

Rotting reeds and the other sour smells of brackish tidal flats--the first scent of the outdoors that I ever knew--that's my homecoming scent, while the others catching the scent start to hold their noses.

OOC Here Alveus Canidus, Provincia Rio Grande, Imperium Americanum Superior: If you stood on top of the plateau as the sun set--or maybe sat, hiking up here took the wind out of most folks--you could watch red-brown dust plumes rise behind vehicles as they rode towards you. After awhile, you might even begin to pick out which clouds puffed up from a six-horse stagecoach or a mule cart or an off-rail steam trailer, but that's not fun and the sun is in your eyes. Look down instead, into the dry riverbed. Dogstongue. It's the city in the middle of not-a-lot. If it was next to anything else, it'd be a town, but oh no, Dogstongue is a city. 'Least it is for those folks coming in for the carnival. . . ***** The topmost layer of a series of posters glued to the side of the hot-dog stand: KOBOLD KOWBOYS Small and weak and scaly, Restin' only rarely, Ridin' 'cross the prairie, Rawhide! Don't underestimate 'em, Don't taunt or mock or bait 'em, Or they'll take it out of your hide. . . Scrawled along the bottom of the poster, and across several adjacent ones: Kobold BBQ. Catch 1 wild kobold, scale + skin + gut him + stuff with onions + cornmeal. Put on BBQ. Done when he smells like jalapeño. Serve with refried beans + beer. ***** Bored local human teens, sunburnt umber, working their way around the carnival rides: "It's not gonna happen." "Sure it will. After dark! You think they'll party in the middle of the day?" "It's almost dark now and I don't see any crawling." "They've got bleacher seats. What d'they need bleacher seats for? A circus? A concert?" "That would rock. . ." "Yeah. . .No band'll perform out here if they've got Apollo right over there, though." They look involuntarily towards the temple (and concert venue). "I'm telling you, nothing else fits. This IS an underground crawl!" "If they're crawling, where are they keeping the monsters?!?" ***** Inside the Magicology Mansion: (prerecorded) "Watch and wonder as the Wonder Wizard lassos the wily werewolf!" "Bor-ing. It's just a clockwork. I can see her gears." "This is lame. There's no MAGIC in here." Something skitters in the background of the animatronic scene. "ROPE TRICK!" A rope snakes across the ground, catches the two halflings by the ankles, and hauls them upside-down. Scaly laughter drowns out their cries of surprise. Whatever skittered before, speaks now in a drawl. "Ain't no magic? Gonna lay a bet on that, tenderfeet? How about. . .whatever's in your pockets? Shake 'em, boys!" The rope jiggles, and so do the two boys. Coins and candy, and someone else's skill-game prizes, fall to the floor. ***** A half-elf couple, with bandanas tied over the tops of their ears and authentic Gnomeskin™ blue jeans, trying to knock down a tower of cans with one baseball: "Hah! My turn. Three for a dollar. . .thanks." "Why didn't you say you wanted three? We could've gone five for two dollars." "You fail at math." She pitches and misses. "And you get in my way." "Bull. There could've been a barn between you and the cans, and it would've have been in your way." The gnome chica running the booth waggles her finger in a no-no fashion at him as she pitches and misses again. "Ok, the barn might have been in the way that time." "Sister, could you look the other way for a moment while I 'accidentally' throw this at his fat head? . . .Oh my gawds. Do you even speak English?" The gnome chica shakes her head. The half-elf girl spins around dramatically and shouts to the passers-by. "Heroes? Any heroes here? My baseball for a REAL hero!" "That's just low. C'mon, you know I'm anemic. I swear I'd be in the crawl right now, if I wasn't anemic. . ."

Somewhere downwind Tzimfemme sniffed, looked askance at her mug of hot chocolate, inhaled its vapor, shook her head, set the mug on an armrest, sniffed the air, and looked upwards for patience. A few seconds later, Appy detected the scent as well, and broke off telling the kaffeeklatsch about hot guys and hard times. "Phew! It smells like books burning!" she remarked, and waved at the air in order to clear it. Tzimfemme and Morgane both opened mini-portals; Morgane's propelled fresher air into the area, while Tzimfemme's spat out the Conservatory insurance papers, a claim form, and a quill.

I put this here instead of Cabaret Room since there'll be a lot of cut-and-paste involved. The last thread of this type that I saw went from Black Forest Chocolate Cake to Beer BBQ Chicken and back. I've mentioned kladdkaka (Swedish sticky, brownie-like cake) in the shoutbox several times, and now is the time to finally write down a recipe for it. From "a little green book" via the Internet, remarks in parentheses mine: Kladdkaka 2 eggs 3 dl sugar 100g butter or margarine (1 dl oil works also) 4 heaped tablespoons cacao 1.5 dl flour water (recipe says 1.5 teaspoons, I use a dab more) Mix* the eggs and sugar. Blend in the other ingredients. (With 1.5 teaspoons water, the mixture is thick as tar and will need to be spread into the pan with a spoon; with a dab more water--not much!!!--it will pour into the pan and fill it, and also collapse at the top while baking.) Pour into a greased pan**. Bake for 30 minutes at 175 degrees C. You can eat it as is, melt baking chocolate and pour it over the top as it cools, or serve with a spoonful of whipped cream. *American cookbooks would say to "cream" the eggs and sugar--to mix them thoroughly, until the mix starts to behave like a liquid. **20cm diameter pie tin or other small tin. (When I tried making this with U.S. measures, I used 1 cup of sugar, 1/2 cup of flour, 2/3 cup oil, and U.S. teaspoons and tablespoons. However, my oven setting ((350 degrees)) was plain wrong, and I burnt the kladdkaka. Try using 325 degrees and your senses--the instant you can smell something besides chocolate, pull it out of the oven.)

So do frog's eyes, although I imagine that sheep eyeballs would give a better psuedo-superball effect. . .

Have you ever found the person who got the life you'd thought you'd have? Have you ever wondered who was supposed to get the life you're currently living?

tänk

I don't know if there's a way to do that, and it would somewhat kill the point of reducing visual clutter if one forum had two (or more) listings. There will only be two Critics' Corners if the forum is split by genre--the contents of the current one will move to wherever the forum lands.

Whispered conversation, punctuated with waving ears. "Okokokokokokokokokokokok!" Ears flattened to shut out the noise. Whirring, clanking, tortured squeal of die-cast metal. Heap of hugs trembling, going concave, tumbling down. A squeal, a pounce! "SHINY!" Ears flee from beneath the hugbox. Machine and gnomie, under heap of hugs, under hole in hugbox.

FYI all: New accounts are currently set to "validating", which means someone has to come by and turn posting access ON. That's why you're not seeing spam posted right now, but it also means there's a delay between registration and posting. The more web-savvy folk are looking at the spam info and picking domains to block (much as that diminshes the possible legitimate posters lurking behind them :/ ), so hopefully we can turn validation off soon. Morgane: Oh my. That "plus/minus thingy" is quite useful! I hadn't known about that when I proposed the reorganization, and they would toggle off about half the Pen at a time, in that proposal. I will try to break things up a bit more so that the toggles are useful. (Also a belated thanks to Patrick for pointing out the 'return to top' button. So many nifty features I didn't even know we had.) Can I poke you and any other readers for forums that you'd like to be able to "turn off"? Sweetcherrie: Sometimes you've got to post before asking permission. And Katzaniel: There is no pool of power to grab hold of, here. The only tools the elders have got and some other people don't is a) one forum ability to tinker with the board software. does make it easier to take action since we don't have to run down someone else to implement things, but posting (and the self-confidence to keep posting after a dissenting opinion) carry what power there is here. (Tzimfemme shines a spotlight on Mardrax.) Look at the weight his posts carried, and technically he's not even here yet. (aside) Just between you and me, I seem to have latched onto you. (at large) DIBS! (Tzimfemme goes back to the chalkboard.) Oh yes. c) enjoyment of discussion. It's one of our few non-fiction and/or persuasive writing outlets. (Tzimfemme ducks Appy's response.) What? You didn't call dibs first. (Tzimfemme canters around the chalkboard, firing off erasers when possible, and dodging incoming bits of broken chalk.) Mynx: Forgive me, I thought you knew this intuitively, but a polite silence sometimes takes tremendous amounts of energy to maintain! (The wish list unfurls around the chalkboard like a streamer, or the tail of the Tzimcomet, as she ticks off points with a bit of ammo.) Right, that's a few of those covered. . .Someone else will have to handle the wikipedia, I don't touch that, although you may quote me at your pleasure. . .Move the Piazza to where? A subforum of Conservatory? . . .IRC hasn't been too bad in Euro evenings for off-the-cuff roleplay. . .Off-the-cuff roleplay is sorely missed in all places--and speaking of missed, watch where you're hurling that chalk!-- (Offstage, an "Oi! Watch it yourself!") --Wyvern and Zool provided examples in this thread of how you can intertwine discussion and roleplay. Visual art! D'you mean uploading it to the Pen website itself (and for that, I'd have to defer to one of the web-savvy), or just a sign saying Please Place Visual Art Links Here? Wear a shirt. . .Shirt. . .Blood and bones, what happened to our shirt? I begin to think that personal and business loyalties shouldn't have gotten intertwined there. . . "Whaaaaaaaaahahahahahhahooooooooooooooie!" What the--! (Tzimfemme leaps behind the chalkboard as Joat flashes past, in free-fall off of the shoulder of the earth, yelling with joy.) News page! Another web-savvy thing and one I've oddly grown to miss. I still wish it weren't a blanket laid over the face of the forums, but there's no denying it'd wrap up several other requests as well. . .and since Q has been tinkered with by multiple gnomes, I wouldn't eat anything that came out of it.

Tzimfemme spins the conversation around her hammock for easy review. Lazy? Only partly. You try flipping a page in a hammock without flipping the hammock itself. "Stumbled on this, it gives you quite a bit of info about your date of birth " " " Wyvern snorts and scratches out yet another date estimate, more certain of his current geld total and sums of debt than his age. The lizard lets his forked tongue coil around his quill for a moment, then finally lets out an exasperated sigh and tosses his results into the Pen pile. "You were born on a Half-Price Day at the Volcano Springs. Your star sign is a faded billboard for Almost Dragonic Brand Semi-Sharp Ninja Twinkle Stars™ (no longer in production). The Season was a Bad Season for Business. You are years, months, and days behind in your taxes. You are approximately as old as you think you are. More info on Half-Price Day at the Volcano Springs: - unlimited molten magma bathing - ash cloud facial treatments - herbavore vending machines (as in machines that vend small herbavores for carnivores to munch on) - rocks, rocks, rocks." "Expensive use for an Ash of Invisibilty," Tzimfemme thinks, "but it could work. Make your blackheads invisible, literally! Just don't get dispelled in the middle of the evening. . .Waitaminute. Why's this machine giving more thorough results for Wyvern than for anyone else?" She eyes Sweetcherrie's apparatus, but then swivels her eyes dead-center as the hammock threatens to tip machine-wards. "Hmmm... How handy! Now I can keep track of just how many months and days old I am, too! As if I don't have enough trouble remembering what number of years I've supposedly lived. " "Actually, it was Winter – I was born in New Zealand GROOVY, BABY.... YEAH!! " "Heh, do I get the these are not 100% accurate cause I'm born on the Leap Year? hehehe" "Sssup Dude? Pearl Harbor? You %@$#@! I'm Jellous!"

In the tangential feedback discussion in Critic's Corner, I was convinced to tuck technical feedback away in separate-but-linked Critic's Corner posts, so that the author was under no obligation to read it. Some of the people who didn't want technical feedback were also poets. Also I considered keeping Critic's Corner as a primary forum under the Pen Keep heading (not accessible to all), but thought it was visually still too far away from the forums it was meant to serve--so, split into subforums. As for the guilds, I'm just shuffling them around in a block until they discover what they want to be. Last year I tried to step down from active Eldership and take up my proper Pen rank again, like lumpenproletariat did. Instead I became Ancient, pending a nice roleplayed response to turn in my key to the Tower of Elders, such as it is. . .and it gives me something to grumble about. (Note: The discussions I'm about to refer to got deleted sometime in 2004 thanks to an oopsie, so I have to rely on the memories of myself and a few others. I had more than enough blocks-of-quoted-text-to-beat-others-into-narcoleptic-submission posts to wade through in Archmage, and am not going to take up the style myself, even if I could have.) The earliest Ancients themselves restricted posting to DSEPRoD when it was created; if they were active enough to have a voice, the reasoning ran, they were active enough to take on just a little bit of active Eldership. The setup of new forums often was the carrot of the carrot-and-stick approach to ranks. Ranks were introduced to give people ready-at-hand, attainable goals, to give Pen people some pride in their titles and a reason to stay once they'd invested a bit of time and work into them. Even Bard, a whimsy title on Archmage, now has certain accomplishments behind it. (Search for "bard" and "Orlan", he IS Elder of Bards and posted about this, but at the moment I have no idea when or where.) Setting Writer's Workshop at Page level, a rank any Initiate can gain if they stay and participate past their initiation, is another carrot. --Tzimfemme, the naked More of a turnip-and-stick girl

(Tzimfemme toes Mardrax.) Your posts are the sort of ill reaction we feared, back when the guideline of "don't show forums that rank X can't participate in" was first put into place. Your non-guild-related issues are quirks with the board software. Lurk down a few posts in the Cabaret Room and you'll find the discussion about one of them. (Tzimfemme removes her toes from Mardrax.) If I hadn't been rushing to finish the reorganization suggestion and get out the door, I'd have bothered to figure out who could post where on the last two forums--thanks, Appy, for clearing that up. DSEPRoD is my bloody annoying read-only forum, so I can't support making it read-only for anyone else. Writer's Workshop remains at Page in my eyes, for the people who post more than just a recruiter's office post before vanishing. I am still pissed-off that the guilds are sucking energy away from the Pen at large, even in this thread about the Pen at large, even years after they were created--but I'm more pissed-off at myself because I'm going to dip my oar in there again. We have a group of people who want inclusion and no critical feedback; we have a group of people who want keen-edged feedback and a pool of wisdom. Is there any chance of forming guilds around those ideas (alright, according to Alaeha, the latter was one formative vision of the guilds) and surrounding yourselves with people in your comfort zone?

Earlier I said that it may annoy people when they see a forum they can't yet post in, because of their board rank. I'll take that risk. Suggested reorganization follows. A 'primary' forum is one that is bold and underlined font on the main page, and a 'subforum' is labeled as such on the main page plus bold and underlined on the first page of its main forum. Split, re-named, and otherwise altered forums are marked with ***. Access levels are for both reading and writing, although they are currently set at different levels for some forums--which I find bloody annoying even though I was in favor of it in the first place. The Tavern of the Quill - free-access posting Cabaret Room - conversation & catch-all forum Assembly Room - stories with closed authorship ***Subforum: Critic's Corner - technical feedback *** Banquet Hall - poetry ***Subforum: Critic's Corner - technical feedback *** Conservatory - stories with open authorship Subforum: The Greenroom - ooc for character development ***The Manor of Tongues - multilingual posts *** (takes current contents of The European Classics) Subforum: The Café - technical assistance on multilingual posts Library - archive & reposts Recruiter's Office - applications The Walls of the Pen - unchanged (There may be some argument for collapsing the Codex & Lists into a subforum as it is no longer relevant. . .but that's a far smaller concern than reworking the living parts of the Pen, right now.) ***The Pen Keep - membership posting*** (fusion of The Passageway & Athenaeum) The Courtyard - conversation & catch-all forum, access level Initiate Under the Oak Tree - creative posting, access level Initiate Subforum: The Scarlett Pen - PG-13 creative posting, access level Initiate The Writer's Workshop - Posts-in-progress with technical feedback, access level Page Alliance of Vanguards & Vagabonds Articulate Artisans of Alliteration Storyweaver's Central Hall - Guilds, control their own subforums, access level Quill-Bearer The Minstrel Hall - member votes & organization discussions (such as this one), access level Quill-bearer (or was it poet/herald/troubadour/storyteller/bard/er. . ."that" level?) Subforum: Double Secret Evil Planning Room of Doom - problems & solutions, access level Quill-bearer (same question) Any other leader-ish forums that I can't see go down here.

Yeah, one question. . .what'd you say in that last long paragraph? I can extract meaning from the closing sentence but the rest is Peanuts-esque trumpet mutes.

Ak'Anon, near the Mines of Malfunction: "GNOMIE CANNONBALL!" The water barely rippled. Minta swam down the beginnings of the abandoned "Digging to Erudin" tunnel. The flood covered up all sorts of useful gnomie shortcuts that the Dark Reflection evil gnomies had installed later. . .that was weird. . .the hatch that led to the Norrath-Pen corridor was open. Minta popped out of the forcefield which held the water in the tunnel and started down the corridor, leaving wet footprints. The Pen Keep, Courtyard: Someone who put their ear to the ground, next to a particular rock, might have heard "'Asmadeus' rhymes with 'Theas', but you can't rhyme a 'chanter with a ranger. . .'who will play? us?'. . .nuh-uh, doesn't sound nice. . .Is funny, how come this end isn't open if that end wasn't? Gotta get Rydia an' make her track an'--ooo wait, I know!" and a pitter-patter of feet back under the wall of the Keep. The Tavern of the Quill, basement: Minta darted out of a gap between a barrel and a crate, then pushed on a nail-head in the barrel. The barrel started to revolve, clanking like a rusty gear, and then six adjacent barrels also spun, pushing an unassociated sack of flour in front of the gap and sweeping brush-bristled revolving barrel bottoms across the floor, to sweep up any floury trails left behind. The Tavern of the Quill, Recruiter's Office: .00004 seconds after the candywrapper heap rustled, Minta burst through the door. "I heard candy, can I have some Wyvern pleaseplease ASMA HONORARY GNOMIE!" She changed vectors and aimed a superhappy hug at the new applicant, then stopped and bounced in place, almost flattening the Almost Dragonic machine. "This is SO cool! There used to be lots of people goin' back an' forth from Solusek Ro to here but now I think I'm the only one 'cept for Star an' he doesn't come here much since he an' Rydia moved outta the Pen Keep an' we're gonna hafta get you moved into a room here or outside if you want, Annael lives outside an' Bhurin does too at least an' a few other woodsy people an' those silly cabbages an' ohyeah! you gotta see my room!" Minta grabbed Asmadeus's hand and charged for the door, only to fall flat on her face. She tried to kick, but her neato new droolproof shoes were neatly trussed together. The neato necro gnomie girl craned her head over her shoulder to see. "Whooooooooa. . .you got a Wyvern machine to work? OOO! You GOTTA see the TALKING CLOCKWORK! It says "Caryon Artificer" an' gotta meet Astralis gnomie too!" she chattered, and poked one hand into a pocket and pulled out a crumpled, wrinkled black robe. Once the robe fell to the floor, it billowed upwards, filling with glowing red eyes and materializing a wicked scythe. "Spectre cut me free! Asma, we gotta make sure the trolls never get 'hold of that or we're gonna get kabobed! Is bad enough that I gotta make a gnomish army pie-tin-cutter, kabob-unsharpener, saucepan-lid-prier-offer, an' stomach-exit-driller, dunno if it's got more space for a twine-snipper an' apple-corer!" Minta kicked her feet loose from the severed strings, scrambled to her feet, and pointed at the doorway again.

IRC, Galaxynet, #thepen, all times in GMT. [22:59] * Zadown calls JRR Tolkien from the grave and sics the desiccated remains on the hapless lawyer [22:59] [star|idle] braaaainssss [22:59] [Tzimfemme] Don't make me call Minta. [22:59] [Zadown] eelllvvessssss [22:59] [star|idle] or, possibly: hoooobbitssss [22:59] [star|idle] haha [22:59] [Zadown] rrrrriiiiiinnngggss off pooowwwwwwweeeeerr [22:59] * Mardrax sues Tolkien too for abusing scandinavian folklore and language [22:59] [Zadown] watch it, it bites [22:59] [star|idle] well, it wasn't just our folklore he abused [23:00] [Tzimfemme] wait, what'm I doing. . . [23:00] [star|idle] I think he mixed in more of them there ;p [23:00] * Tzimfemme unfolds a shovel and starts digging up C. S. Lewis [23:00] [Tzimfemme] let's make this more interesting [23:00] [Zadown] haha [23:00] [star|idle] ok, C.S. Lewis needs to get his ass kicked though [23:00] [Zadown] do ye think the two would talk about religion? [23:00] [star|idle] yes! [23:00] [Tzimfemme] No! I want their necromantic masters to sic 'em on each other [23:01] [Tzimfemme] in a fight to the second death [23:01] [Zadown] and they'd just sit down and talk about religion [23:01] [star|idle] celebrity deathmatch 2006 [23:01] [Tzimfemme] You overestimate the free will of the undead--EXACTLY! [23:01] [star|idle] the re-animation [23:01] [Zadown] haha [23:02] * Mardrax calls in Terry Pratchett [23:02] [Zadown] Bone Fragmentbath! [23:02] [Zadown] he is still alive, let's not mix him into it [23:02] [star|idle] he's still alive, he can be the judge [23:02] [Zadown] well that works * Retrieving #thepen modes... [23:02] [Mardrax] that's why he will be VICTORIUOS :| [23:02] * Tzimfemme changes topic to '* Zadown calls JRR Tolkien from the grave and sics the desiccated remains on the hapless lawyer [star|idle] celebrity deathmatch 2006: the re-animation' [23:02] [Mardrax] minus a spelling error 0_o [23:03] [Zadown] poor Lewis didn't even make it to the topic [23:03] [Tzimfemme] strictly speaking, he isn't reanimated yet. [23:03] [Tzimfemme] I'm just digging him up [23:03] [Morgane] if u do that ask goethe why he did werther to us yes? [23:03] [Zadown] perhaps his coffin's door leads to Narnia? [23:03] [Tzimfemme] Oo [23:04] [Tzimfemme] Morgane: I foresee an industry! Abuse the dead! [23:04] [Morgane] ooooh cooool [23:04] * Tzimfemme scrapes against the top of said coffin [23:04] [Tzimfemme] think we're about to find out [23:04] [Morgane] we'll make millions!!! [23:04] [Tzimfemme] Indeed [23:04] [star|idle] guaranteed [23:04] [Tzimfemme] When the Archmages take over the world, the black mages will become rich... [23:05] [Tzimfemme] . . .then the blue mages will cast Wish and bugger it all up [23:05] * Tzimfemme speaks from experience here [23:05] [Morgane] i as a blue will provide the needed pretifications for hapless humans [23:05] * Tzimfemme swaps shovel for pick and pries at the coffin lid [23:06] * Mardrax casts Serenity on the channel [23:06] * Morgane remembers wish such an annoying spell and soooo usefull [23:06] * Morgane giggles [23:06] * Tzimfemme pries up the planks [23:06] [Tzimfemme] . . . [23:06] [Tzimfemme] It leads _somewhere_ alright. [23:06] * Wrenny has joined #thepen [23:06] * Q sets mode: +o Wrenny [23:06] [Morgane] don't tell me [23:06] * Tzimfemme sticks her torso in the hole [23:06] * Tzimfemme looks around, re-emerges [23:06] [Morgane] a dinosaur rat eats the copses [23:06] [Tzimfemme] It's not Narnia [23:06] [Morgane] and this is his hole [23:07] [Mardrax] is there a white rabbit? [23:07] [Tzimfemme] neither rabbit nor cushions [23:07] [Mardrax] or floating furniture? [23:07] [Morgane] give a holler [23:07] [Morgane] maybe somebody is down there [23:07] * Tzimfemme puts her face into the grave again [23:07] [Tzimfemme] YO! [23:08] [Morgane] nice echo [23:08] * Tzimfemme pulls herself out again [23:08] [Tzimfemme] this isn't working [23:08] * Tzimfemme tries lowering herself in feet-first [23:08] [Morgane] maybe we slithered into jules vernes journey to the center of the earth [23:08] [star|idle] at the risk of sleeping on the couch tonight... [23:08] * Star|idle kicks Tzimfemme into the hole [23:08] [Zadown] just couldn't resist? ; [23:09] * Morgane muffles a giggle [23:09] [star|idle] indeed [23:09] * Tzimfemme 's last visible part is her hand, expressing her opinion of Star [23:09] [star|idle] [23:09] * Tzimfemme *splash* [23:09] [Morgane] ahhh the joys of butt kicking [23:09] [star|idle] splash? [23:09] [star|idle] coffins don't go splash. [23:09] * Tzimfemme *gurgle* [23:09] [Zadown] depends what's inside [23:09] * Morgane sidles to the hole and casts a light spell [23:09] [star|idle] wasn't there supposed to be a coffin down there? ;P [23:09] [Morgane] uhm she's drowning i fear [23:10] * Mardrax wonder why tzim went down with a thumbs up [23:10] [Zadown] alas, poor Tzimfemme, I knew her well [23:10] [Morgane] i think the waters a live too [23:10] [star|idle] Minta will be happy to hear that, another zombie! [23:10] * Star|idle throws down a rope [23:10] * Tzimfemme (Fat lot of help you all are. Bastards!) [23:10] * Morgane lies down and tried to grab tzim [23:10] [star|idle] ...but maybe not today [23:10] * Mardrax tosses some scuba gear into the hole, and a tattered white flag on a stick [23:10] [Morgane] oy common take my haand [23:10] * Tzimfemme *gurgle gurgle ?* [23:11] * Tzimfemme puts on scuba gear [23:11] [Morgane] oh dear [23:11] * Star|idle rescues the white flag and plants it near him at the edge of the hole [23:11] * Tzimfemme *bubble bubble* [23:11] * Morgane throws tzim a water tight lamp [23:11] * Tzimfemme (light under the liquid, moving west) [23:11] * Mardrax throws tzim a water tight camera [23:12] * Tzimfemme walks out of the liquid, along the bottom [23:12] [Morgane] i hope there's no kraken down there [23:12] [star|idle] Look at it this way. [23:12] [star|idle] If there is, we're all in trouble. [23:12] * Tzimfemme shouts in the empty space [23:12] [Morgane] that's why i hope there isn't [23:12] [Tzimfemme] Yo? [23:12] [Mardrax] some shout that [23:12] [Tzimfemme] Hello? (Hello. Hello. . . Hello . . .) [23:13] [Morgane] oh well [23:13] * Morgane shrugs and casts a fly spell and gently flies down to tzim [23:13] * Tzimfemme scratches her head, encounters scuba gear [23:13] * Tzimfemme removes and stares at gear [23:13] * Mardrax walks some distance into the back of the channel, and pulls the carpet back a few feet [23:13] [star|idle] is there a clothes cabinet down there that leads to a magical kingdom? if not, you may be in the wrong grave [23:13] [Tzimfemme] oh, hello lady [23:13] * Mardrax opens the basement hatch [23:13] [Tzimfemme] where are we? [23:13] [Morgane] hey Tzim [23:13] [Tzimfemme] and what's this? [23:13] [Mardrax] Yo tzim... coming up yet? [23:13] [Morgane] in a hole in the ground i'd say [23:13] [Morgane] nasty smell too [23:14] [Tzimfemme] Yes. . .well, here [23:14] [Morgane] oh and the water is trying to creep up your leg [23:14] * Tzimfemme hands Morgane the scuba equipment [23:14] [Tzimfemme] yes. . .it's feisty [23:14] [Morgane] thank you [23:14] * Tzimfemme slaps it down [23:14] [Tzimfemme] I don't need the tzim any more. [23:14] * Morgane blinks [23:14] * Tzimfemme points at scuba equipment [23:14] [Morgane] ahh [23:15] [star|idle] well, nothing happening here and I have work tomorrow (yay battery recall, lines will be busy again or so I'd expect) [23:15] [star|idle] so... nitenite [23:15] * Morgane throws the equipment into the water [23:15] [Tzimfemme] I needed it when I was in with the feisty. . .stuff. [23:15] [Tzimfemme] But not now. [23:15] [star|idle] Feist? definitely the wrong grave then. [23:15] * Mardrax waves star goodnight [23:15] [Morgane] (nighty star) [23:15] [Morgane] isn't he still alive? [23:15] [star|idle] yep [23:15] [star|idle] could explain the lack of a body tho [23:15] [Tzimfemme] (Yes, but he's sleeping on the couch for awhile) [23:15] [Morgane] then this can't be a grave after all [23:16] [star|idle] (har har ) [23:16] * emp has joined #thepen [23:16] [Tzimfemme] Who? [23:16] * Mardrax throws emp in, after tzim and morgane [23:16] * Tzimfemme sets mode: +v emp [23:16] [Tzimfemme] Oh dear [23:16] [Tzimfemme] There's another one in the thingie. [23:16] [emp] eek [23:16] [Morgane] do we fish him out? [23:16] * Mardrax drops a shovel down the hole after emp [23:16] [Tzimfemme] We should [23:16] * emp doesnt get thrown anywhere! [23:16] * Tzimfemme wades in [23:16] [Morgane] oh well [23:16] [emp] lol [23:17] * Morgane floats after tzim [23:17] [Tzimfemme] Don't let him. . .um. . .um. . .what's the word. . .um. . . [23:17] [Morgane] drown? [23:17] [Tzimfemme] Don't let him go all the way in [23:17] [Morgane] oh [23:17] [Tzimfemme] The stuff [23:17] [Morgane] ok [23:17] * Tzimfemme splashes [23:17] [Tzimfemme] This. [23:17] [Mardrax] it's feisty stuff after all [23:17] * Morgane grabs emps head and PULLS [23:18] * Tzimfemme tows on emp's wrists [23:18] [Morgane] the stuff doesn't want to let go [23:18] * emp wont be distracted, watching House [23:18] * Morgane thinks [23:18] [emp] [23:18] [Morgane] i know!!! [23:18] * Morgane throws a little fireball at the stuff [23:19] * Tzimfemme watches flame die [23:19] * Mardrax looks under the boards, grabs a spider, sticks it in his mouth and chews a few times [23:19] [Morgane] hmmm [23:19] * Mardrax *crunch* [23:19] [Tzimfemme] he'll be fine [23:19] [Tzimfemme] He didn't go fully under [23:19] [Morgane] i guess so [23:19] * Tzimfemme scratches her head agian [23:19] [Tzimfemme] I did, you see. . . [23:19] [Morgane] lets deposit him over there [23:19] [Tzimfemme] and now I feel different. [23:19] * Mardrax casually walks down into the hole via the wall [23:19] [Morgane] how different? [23:19] [Morgane] seeing funny colours [23:20] [Tzimfemme] I'm almost positive you used to have a name. [23:20] [Morgane] or do u want to eat me [23:20] [Tzimfemme] And that stuff did [23:20] [Morgane] oh my [23:20] [Tzimfemme] and I forgot what the tzim was [23:20] [Morgane] not styx [23:20] [Morgane] don't tell me we found the river of forgetfullness [23:20] [Morgane] BLAST!!!! [23:20] * Tzimfemme ponders that [23:20] [Tzimfemme] It would make sense [23:21] [Appy] what, there's a whole river of that stuff? [23:21] * Tzimfemme sounds too serene [23:21] [Morgane] i HATE greek myths [23:21] [Appy] why?] [23:21] [star|idle] a river of what? slime? this brings me back to Ghostbusters 2 at any rate. [23:21] * Star|idle poofs for real [23:21] [Morgane] because they come and bite u in the ass when u least expect it [23:21] * Mardrax walks back up the wall, emerging from the hole between the floorboards [23:21] [Appy] don't most myths do that? [23:21] [Appy] o_O [23:21] [Morgane] well my dear u are Tzimfemme and i am Morgane [23:21] * Mardrax points down [23:22] [Morgane] and u swallowed forgetfullness [23:22] * Appy looks down [23:22] [Mardrax] look appy, there they are [23:22] [Appy] who? [23:22] [Mardrax] they [23:22] [Tzimfemme] That explains it [23:22] [Appy] ... [23:22] * Hedin has quit IRC (Quit ()) [23:22] [Appy] you mean us? [23:22] [Mardrax] tzim, who doesn't seem to be tzim anymore, and morgane [23:22] [Morgane] du u think u could erm puke? [23:22] [Tzimfemme] Could someone tell her up there how we got down there. . . [23:22] * empathy has quit IRC (Ping timeout for empathy[81-178-65-69.dsl.pipex.com]) [23:22] [Tzimfemme] could I do what? [23:22] [Morgane] throw up [23:22] [Morgane] puke [23:22] * Tzimfemme ? [23:23] [Morgane] get the excess water out of your system [23:23] [Morgane] stick your finger down your throat ok? [23:23] * Mardrax walks up to the fridge, grabs a can of Amstel beer, and tosses it into the hole [23:23] [Appy] hrmm the only down I know is the catacombs below the #scarletpen... I'm not much help in here I'm afraid [23:23] [Mardrax] feed her that morgane... should help in puking [23:23] [Morgane] OUCH [23:23] [Morgane] ok [23:23] [Appy] haha true [23:23] [Morgane] here drink that [23:23] * Morgane hands Tzim the opened can [23:23] * Tzimfemme sniffs [23:23] [Tzimfemme] blergh! [23:23] [Appy] ooh, should've gone for heineken or oranjeboom though [23:23] [Morgane] its medicine [23:24] [Morgane] thats supposed to taste nasty [23:24] [Tzimfemme] I liked the feisty stuff a lot better than this medicine [23:24] [Morgane] well yes [23:24] [Morgane] but the feisty stuff eats memory [23:24] * Mardrax stands besides appy, explaining how tzim was prying the floorboards loose and fell down into a river f feisty stuff [23:24] [Morgane] u do not want that [23:24] * Tzimfemme drinks [23:24] [Tzimfemme] eugh! [23:25] * Morgane searches through the stuff in her black hole [23:25] [Morgane] i think i have something down there [23:25] * Tzimfemme sniffs again [23:25] [Morgane] something to compensate bad memory [23:25] [Tzimfemme] that's weird. this stuff doesn't seem so bad any more [23:25] [Morgane] do u feel sick yet? [23:25] * Tzimfemme chugs [23:26] [Tzimfemme] No, I'm _fine_! [23:26] * Morgane carefully floats a few feet away [23:26] * Mardrax wonders if he just heard tzim say "that stuff doesn't seem so bad anymore" [23:26] [Morgane] what is your name then? [23:26] [Tzimfemme] You told me this. . .I'm. . . [23:26] * Tzimfemme looks at the scuba gear [23:26] [Tzimfemme] Either me or that is called tzim. [23:26] [Morgane] tzimfemme [23:27] [Morgane] u are tzimfemme or tzim for short [23:27] [Morgane] that *points* is scuba gear [23:27] * Tzimfemme goes pale [23:27] [Tzimfemme] Scuba gear. [23:27] * Tzimfemme nods. . .eugh. . [23:27] [Tzimfemme] shouldn't have done that [23:27] [Morgane] no u shouldn't [23:27] [Morgane] but star threw u in [23:27] * Tzimfemme nods again!. . .blergh! [23:27] [Morgane] so its his fault# [23:28] [Tzimfemme] I'm Tzimfemme. This is scuba gear. That feisty stuff is Star's fault. [23:28] [Morgane] CAN I HAVE ANOTHER CAN OF THAT STUFF? [23:28] [Morgane] yes [23:28] [Morgane] exactly [23:28] * Mardrax tosses another can down.. Malt this time [23:28] [Morgane] the medicine seems to help [23:29] [Morgane] here tzim another antitode [23:29] * Morgane hands tzim the can of malt [23:29] * Tzimfemme drinks [23:29] [Morgane] ok [23:29] [Mardrax] that feisty stuff isn't Star's falt though... you falling down into it is [23:29] [Morgane] i think i'll fly u out of here [23:29] * Mardrax semi-shouts down [23:30] * Morgane grabs tzim under the armpits and levitates up into the room again [23:30] * Tzimfemme looks out over the cavern and her eyes roll [23:30] [Tzimfemme] this doesn't make me feel good. . . [23:30] [Morgane] its not supposed to [23:30] [Morgane] its supposed to help u get rid of the feisty stuff [23:30] [Tzimfemme] put me down. [23:30] * Sparhawk| is now known as Sparhawk [23:30] [Tzimfemme] please [23:31] [Tzimfemme] quick [23:31] * Morgane doesn't want to know what chemical reactions happen in her [23:31] [Appy] someone mentioned that she needed to puke? [23:31] * Morgane puts tzim down [23:31] * Mardrax takes tzim from morgana's arms and lays her on the couch [23:31] * Appy could help [23:31] * Tzimfemme pokes her head off of the side of the couch and pukes [23:31] * Mardrax supplies tzim with a bucket [23:31] [Morgane] YES [23:31] * Morgane cheers [23:31] [Appy] ah [23:31] [Morgane] there goes the feisty stuff [23:31] [Appy] nevermind [23:32] [Tzimfemme] Lethe [23:32] [Morgane] yes i forgot the name [23:32] [Tzimfemme] Waters of forgetful...ness. . . [23:32] [Morgane] styx is the other one [23:32] * Tzimfemme squints her eyes shut [23:32] [Tzimfemme] Ok, you didn't swallow any, that's a normal memory lapse [23:32] * Appy provides a cool cloth to wipe down Tzim's forehead [23:32] [Tzimfemme] oh hi Appy. . .thanks. . . [23:32] [Morgane] i fear i am bad with names [23:33] [Morgane] shouldn't we close that hole? [23:33] [Tzimfemme] Appy? [23:33] [Appy] yes? [23:33] [Tzimfemme] Free advice? [23:33] [Morgane] so nobody can fall in? [23:33] [Tzimfemme] Don't go graverobbing [23:33] * lilValzZz is now known as lilValdar [23:33] [lilValdar] 'morning \z_z/ [23:33] * Appy nods [23:33] [Appy] well noted [23:33] * Mardrax offers tzim a bathrobe and a folded changing booth [23:33] [Tzimfemme] Especially in the coffins of famous literary figures. No good can come of it. [23:33] [Morgane] don't fall into the hole val [23:33] [Appy] ah [23:33] * lilValdar ... [23:33] * Appy nods even more symphatically [23:33] * lilValdar temptation strikes! [23:34] * lilValdar leaps (wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee) [23:34] [Morgane] well its your memory [23:34] * lilValdar has quit IRC (Quit (Trillian (http://www.ceruleanstudios.com)) [23:34] * Mardrax goes into slow motion [23:34] [Mardrax] noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh [23:34] [Mardrax] too late 0_o [23:34] [sparhawk] I don't suppose anyone can hear me right? [23:34] [Morgane] yes we can? [23:34] [Morgane] why? [23:34] [Tzimfemme] (23:34 here--I can) [23:34] [Tzimfemme] (I think he's lagging) [23:35] [Tzimfemme] (Bad) [23:35] * Mardrax watches sparhawk in slow-mo puzzlement [23:35] * Tzimfemme slinks cautiously to the edge of the hole [23:35] [Morgane] (yep verry badly) [23:35] [Tzimfemme] Valdar has an enduring breath capability. He doesn't _need_ to breathe underwater. I'd wager he wouldn't be affected anyway. [23:35] [Morgane] and his ears are good for short flights [23:36] [Morgane] which reminds me [23:36] * Morgane cancels her flight spell and lands [23:36] * Sparhawk| has joined #thepen [23:36] * Q sets mode: +o Sparhawk| [23:36] [Morgane] (still laging) [23:37] [Mardrax] (very badly) [23:37] [Morgane] (35 secs ping reply oh my) [23:37] [sparhawk|] stupid IRC [23:37] [sparhawk|] and stupid MSN [23:37] * Tzimfemme restores the top planks of C. S. Lewis's coffin and nails them down [23:37] [Morgane] good idea [23:38] [Morgane] but i think we left emp down there [23:38] * Mardrax wonders where the author himself went [23:38] * Sparhawk has quit IRC (Killed (Infohigh.EU.GalaxyNet.Org (hub.pi.se.galaxynet.org [- services.galaxynet.org[172.16.0.254] (older nick overruled)))) [23:38] * Sparhawk| is now known as Sparhawk [23:38] [Morgane] well wherever he went by now he'll have forgotten [23:38] [Tzimfemme] emp cast "do-over" and made like it didn't happen, and I won't ward this heavily enough for Valdar to get trapped [23:38] [Tzimfemme] heh! [23:38] * Tzimfemme does slap down some wards of chocolate-pantry-alarm strength [23:39] [Morgane] oooh good idea! [23:39] * Mardrax wonders at the amazing chocolatey magic going on [23:40] [Mardrax] now that we have that over with... [23:40] [Mardrax] who are we going to ressurect for round two?

George, George, George of the Jungle, strong as he can be. . .

I like it. Need to remember to use it. As a test, I read this, and canceled a 3/4ish comment on Tanuchan's recent, although not most recent, poems. Effort not expended, author not offended--commentary sitting heavy, unsaid--the lesser of two evils. Should the Critics' Corner subtitle include "do place level 4+ feedback in here, not on the same thread as the original work" or similar disclaimer? Someone mentioned something-of-the-sort in the feedback thread. . .ah here it is-- "This is what I thought the Critic's Corner and the Writing Workshop were for; to post specifically for technical feedback and development."--Tanuchan, Feedback page two, Cabaret Room. --which idea I've ignored in the past. That might solve the problem in the beginning in the post, where I can post analytical feedback far away from the original poem, and Tanny is under no obligation to read it. [EDIT: I'm singling Tanuchan out only because I was writing that feedback at this time. I have held back on other feedback in the past, with the same weight on my mind.]

Katzaniel: Now imagine a GUILDful of Joats. . . I have no coherent memories of "A Tribe Called Joat". I think my forebrain shut down to protect itself. There have also been Tzim totem poles, but the mask kinda negates that possibility.

What's caught my eye so far is Appy's suggestions for reordering the forums, breaking up the current order of ascending membership; as you progress through membership levels, more forums become visible beneath the current lineup. That not only removes the confusion surrounding the OOC and feedback areas, it may encourage people to become more involved and aim for a new membership level by making the rewards of membership visible--something that we avoided in the past to avoid feelings of exclusion, but that worry will pass if the routes to gain membership levels are clear enough. We wouldn't even need to wait for the guilds' reorganization to rearrange some of the forums. Play-by-Post: An attempt in spring 2005 in the Conservatory garnered a surprising amount of interest, but almost all from people who mix long periods of Pen activity with inactivity. Rounding enough up to start a game would be more of a problem than actually running one. I've gotten some practice with d20 play-by-post since then--both in a roll-your-own tabletop emulation, and a DM-driven type only possible in play-by-post--and if I can get an assistant with actual books, could take a stab at a low-powered d20 module. (I have open gaming content only, and that means no XP tables, among other problems. . .) Can the Feedback portion of the profile indicate what type of feedback you give? I'd like to advertise myself as a grammar resource, so people who need me can find me. People who want affirmative feedback (see the few posts preceding mine) could find one another more quickly. There's always room for the feedback "This poem resonated with me"--affirmation of the poet's ability to touch the emotions, confirmation that the technical elements of the poem had their desired effect.

The doorknob shook, the doorjamb reverberated, and whoever was on the other side of the door questioned it, then spoke through the keyhole, "The door's being temperamental again. Tzimfemme here, who's in there?" "I could unstick that door right away with an Almost Dragonic Temperamental Door Unsticker, but the Almost Dragonic laboratories are a little short on research funding--" "Who's in there other than Wyvern?" "Me. Dauna. George." The voice behind the keyhole didn't interject as it had before. "One moment. . ." it replied, and went unintelligible. By Wyvern's desk, the air shimmered silver and coalesced, leaving the naked mage herself with one hand resting on Dauna's application form. Tzimfemme brushed away her goosebumps with her free hand while her body materialized. "Apologies for that. It's not name magic, I assure you, but if I just point at this office and say 'to the paperwork', I'll set off an avalanche," she half-explained, and perched on the edge of the desk to read. Soon enough she jerked her head away from the story and studied George. "You've come straight out of the dynamo. . ." the naked mage wondered aloud. "Been awhile since we had one of those. . .This is my duty here--don't worry, no chaos will cross this threshold unless it's invited. Same as vampires." That made her laugh.