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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword


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About -C-

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    "The Traveller"
  • Birthday 03/11/1985

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    "The Traveller"
  • Bio
    Since joining here, I somehow wound up with the name/title 'The Traveller' after using it as a descriptor for my application post. Not exactly an exciting bio, but there it is.
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    Constructive criticism is always welcome, usually the more the better! However, as long as it's aimed at the piece, rather than the person writing it, kept respectful (because there's really absolutely no need to be destructive - encouraging is so much better; nitpicking is fine, but the phrasing needn't be cruel!), I welcome any and all feedback. After all, we're all learning as we go along, right?
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  1. I log in every now and then, sometimes once a week, sometimes more, sometimes not for two weeks and then I'll drop by. Why? There are times when I don't feel creative, and other times to see if anyone else has posted anything of interest. I don't especially want to see anything more or less on the site - well, maybe increased activity . Sorry this isn't very helpful!
  2. C inclined his head, cast a sidelong look at Solorassil, then strode off towards the Keep. He assumed the others followed. Bursting into the office (surprisingly enough, the door was unlocked, even ajar, which made C more than a tad suspicious), he looked around his one-time recruitment into the Pen, paused and frowned. Something was wrong... but what?
  3. "Hm? Oh, I hadn't intended torching the entire keep, just the office." C paused, then looked at Thomas squarely, "Do you really think I'd needlessly endanger innocents when the quest is about Justice, Truth and Virtue? We should try to limit the damage if there are others involved, certainly!" C paused, then pondered his next move. This was taking longer than he had anticipated and he wanted to move things along. The question was... how.
  4. C smiled more than a little darkly, "Of course there's a reason: it will create a distraction. Everyone will be so busy containing the fire they will not be thinking about us - leaving our hands free to do as we will. I do not lean towards the extreme unless it serves me - and keeping Wyvern's hands - paws - claws? - full serves our purpose mightily. The silent approach might work, but it might lead back to us." A pause, "Besides, Tom here is looking forward to torching the Recruiter's Office. Do you really want to disappoint him? As to spreading to the rest of the Pen - well, that's a risk we'll have to take. Hopefully the fire will be contained." Realising he had not really addressed the idea of an 'accident', C mulled it over for a few moments, "We will make the damage look like an accident, then. Tom, perhaps you could ensure to knock over a lamp as you 'clean up'?" There, that should do it. C looked at each of them in turn, "Any other questions?"
  5. Momentarily distracted by Thomas' song, C listened intently, nodding absently, and then held up his hand to Solorassil, "A moment, if you please. And I ask your patience as well, fair Minstrel." C turned to Citizen Tom, "Backtracking to your query: yes, a real raid. And flamethrowers weren't exactly what I had in mind." C paused, then lowered his voice conspiratorially and leaned in slightly, "I was thinking of walking through the front door: Wyvern's not expecting it. We can take what we need, plundering as we please, but preferably the faster the better, then get out again." Musing, C considered, "However... a clean get-away would be required and... razing of our passing would be ideal. So! This is what I propose: Solorassil and I form one team; we enter the building, you, Thomas, have the important - perhaps the most important - role of sentinel: I'm counting on you to stand watch and alert us if anyone comes in. You," C's smile was anything but pleasant, "Tom, shall be waiting with rope and flamethrower at the ready, and after we leave, you burst in through a separate window and torch the place - leave nothing standing. Should anyone see us, they'll simply see Solorassil and I entering the Recruiter's Office and leaving - they won't think we set the fire." The unpleasant smile remained, "And you, Thomas, have sung yet another excellent song. With the maps we will acquire, I believe this library in the forest sounds like an excellent plan. As soon as we can find its location, with your woodsman's craft, you can guide us there, Solorassil. With Thomas' songs, perhaps we can glean together the truth of the matter, and with your skill, the location. Together, we shall make an excellent team. So! Any questions? Comments? Queries? Suggestions? Doubts? Concerns? If not, let's get ready; I want these maps by tonight. The Band of C shall have its first strike. "One final note," he continued, "this is likely to place as at odds with the 'law'; nay, it will label us outlaws. We have done nothing wrong - yet. All that will change. Consider this your last chance to bail out: if this isn't for you, then feel free to leave before we are committed. Once we do this, we are bound to one another - it is a test of loyalty as much as courage. Together, we stand, together we fall: together or not at all. I warn each of you now," he held up a forefinger, his pitch still low but serious, "From this there is no turning back. I do not tolerate traitors lightly: from here on out, we are sworn to one another and the cause. You have heard the plan, so if you wish to leave and inform Wyvern, I cannot stop you - but I warn you, should we cross paths again and treachery hast been done this day..." No smile this time, "So I offer you this chance. I have faith in all of you: we will not fail. Now, I charge you, prove yourself worthy of my faith, and your worth: to both me, the cause, and yourself. Let us stand now, here in this place and triumph. Glory and justice shall we ours! I promise you this, if nothing else: we shall leave our mark upon the Pen and sagas shall be sung: either of our infamy or our success. We shall not fade into the annuals of oblivion - not for a thousand days!" C paused, and added, "Truly Thomas, you are skilled with song. The honour is mine; your fine words do me too much praise. Fear not, noble minstrel: we are not mere brigands, nor dastardly thieves but are on a quest to free the Pen from tyranny. Hold that in your heart!" With that, he waited for the questions that were sure to follow...
  6. "Maps," C answered cryptically, cutting in before anyone else had a chance to reply. His tone was low, and his eyes were fixed; not on Solorassil, but on some distant point lost in the horizon, in space and time. "Up-to-date maps. Would an ancient library have those, I wonder?" The comment was not so much a snub, but C musing, then he smiled, wryly, darkly, "Wyvern is interested in geld, his ego, and self preservation - and other... appetites. He would charge us anything he could if it meant earning a single piece of geld on the side. Unless, of course, I am very much mistaken in my observations of his character and the comments of others. No," his words firmed with a finality that spoke volumes, as if the decision had not just been already made, but the outcome had already occurred... "I intend to raid his office for supplies. If you've any objections, this is your chance to bail. Otherwise, that's our immediate goal. Once we have procured the maps, then perhaps we can check for any 'ancient ruins', libraries or others. A map aged enough would show such locations, rather than us stomping around the forest wasting time." Pausing, C verbally prodded Thomas, "Know of any such maps, fair minstrel?" Then he added almost apologetically, "I did not mean to cut your answer off; please, continue your conversation. I beg pardon for my lack of manners. "And Thomas?" he muttered almost as an afterthought, "...still in need of a sword here." Inwardly he added, And the first objective is the seal pressed in wax. Duplicated, that is the first step to removing power from the tyrant. The original will not be missed... for it shall never leave. With the capacity to wield such power, to hold hostage the injustice... the quest for the Restoration of the Mags shall truly have begun. ACCEPTED, I shall brand it onto a sword; her name shall be Justice, nay: her name shall be PEN and the spirit of all those who have gone before shall reside within her. She shall bring order from chaos, and her wrath shall be mighty. Wyvernsbane shall she also be known as - and to Thomas, she shall go: Swordbearer shall be his name, and I? I shall be but a memory, a passing spectre in the night, lost and forgotten save all but a few. Tremble Wyvern, for your reign is coming to an end. Mags Restoria has begun; the battle for the Pen shall follow. (edited for block text being paragraphed!)
  7. C paused, then met Solorassil's eyes without fear. "Back to the beginning," he answered cryptically, "Perhaps you could tell me where you heard of our quest? It is not the book we are looking for." He held up a pouch and opened it enough for all to see the ashes and remains of the mags (though he took care to shelter it from the wind). "We are trying to restore these. It is not a library we need, nor ancient ruins - well, we may, but not yet. We need... a wizard." Pausing again, C carefully resealed the pouch, tying it tightly, "So unless any of you have any ideas for where we can find magic capable of restoring this, I propose we return to see what else can be found on the subject. That means - raiding the recruiter's office. "In the meantime, I would like to hear more of you."
  8. C found his train of thought shaken as the song resounded in his ears, and he half turned to face Thomas, "Damnit Minstrel, just when I begin to think there's no more use for you then a henchman... you're hired. Not that you weren't already." He smiled, his eyes genuinely pleased, "My thanks. You've done well; a stirring ballad. That's the best rendition I've heard in many a year. Aen would be... well, she would smile. You've outdone yourself. But as you sang, onwards they went, so too should we be getting on. Onwards!" Neatly avoiding Solorassil's question, or perhaps not so neatly, he took the lead, his eyes watchful as he walked. ...The trouble was, he wasn't entirely sure where he was going, but that was beside the point: it looked as if he did. Namely, he went back the way they came before entering the forest. "So, Solorassil," he began, "Or you, Tom Atoe, have you any tales of valour and courage most bold?"
  9. Before Thomas could chime in, or trip over himself (and Tom Atoe ...again), C cleared his throat. His eyes flickered towards Tom Atoe. Perhaps this whole Republic Party thing might work after all. Thus forth, Tom Atoe of Clan Cauliflower, would be known as 'Citizen Tom'. Better than Eight Inch Thingy. Henchman Swordbearer Thomas. Hmm... this needed some work. Making a show of examining the sky, C asked conversationally, "Not a vampire, are you?" He regarded Solorassil, "Usually, I'm aware of when there are others around, so that must be quite the soft step you tread with. I'm impressed. Still, I had not realised word of our quest was widespread. But..." He glanced at his companions, "there are many strange and exotic companions I've journeyed with before; you would be by no means out of place. Our quest is one that may be filled with peril; tell me, what are you capable of? I would not lead a hapless wandered into danger..." He tried not to look in Thomas' direction and failed. "If you could speak of your abilities, it would help. Perhaps a rousing tale of feats you have performed in the past, as you have heard a tale of mine?"
  10. As Thomas fell over, C mused and considered, "You know, this reminds me of a time I was in the body of another - I do that, you see; live other lives, it's hard to explain. It's one way I collect stories: by living them out. Sort of like being a character in a book; when one story ends, another begins. Anyway, there was this time I was in the form of another, and both of us - I was with another, you see - were traipsing through a forest. Now, this lady and I - for she was a lady, though not one you might consider... from her appearance, well, I was an elf, and she was in the guise of an elf. The forest was dark, grim, foreboding in every way, and many dangers lurked, some more considerable than others." As C spoke, his words took on an oddly nostalgic tone, as if he were in fact, reciting memories, "We couldn't leave this forest; there was some strange magic within it, I seem to recall; I'm not sure. Anyway, we required to get through it; probably visit someone or something along the way. It was important, somehow, but I don't recall quite how. So, she and I were traipsing through this forest, when all of a sudden we were beset by a forest troll. Now, my companion, as you may guess, was more than she appeared. In her robes, she could have easily been mistaken for a mage or priestess, for her robes were white and spotless - quite a feat, in a forest, as I'm sure you'll agree - and anyway, this troll was part ogre. Don't ask me how; I don't even want to think on it. It had five giant spiders that we could see with it; large, chittering, furry beasts, with black eyes that sparkled with cruel intelligence." His words dropped with the telling, "There were four more behind us; we were cut off," His tone rose, "Aen, my companion, turned to the troll, with a look as dangerous as they come and told it to back off if it valued its filthy hide. It laughed; what could a pair of hapless elves do, even if one did carry a bow, sword and knife, and the other a staff? Surely, she was bluffing. I, of course, said nothing, but calmly watched the spiders. Oh, those things would send shivers down your spine, I tell you. I was brasher and more confident in those days; I wasn't scared, not even a little. So the spiders advanced, and Aen, Aen dear Aen turned to the troll and smiled. Yes, she smiled." C paused for several heartbeats, waiting for the anticipation to grow, "Then she revealed her true form. A glorious dragon, with crimson and burgundy scales; a crest proud and fine. She was a regal lady. As you can imagine, it stopped the troll dead in its tracks. Its fat and gnarled fingers still clutched its axe - a severed piece of iron taken from the breastplate of a knight, I think, and its butt spiked with the knives and swords of fallen foes. Serrated and chipped, and covered in old, dried blood, it was a terrible weapon. Yet, not even that could stand before the might of a dragon. "The spiders drew back, yet still, some advanced; and then..." His eyes widened, "she breathed flame. Around us in an arc, she spread her fire, scorching and incinerating the three closest spiders, and smouldering even the instant ash she had made from the forest floor. "Then she turned her head over her shoulder and completed the ring around us. Flames seven, eight, nine feet high! She herself was no taller than twelve; fifteen at her full height, for she was a young dragon, barely out of adolescence, and then she turned and smiled at the troll. Her teeth, a devilish row of fangs, glistened as her eyes sparkled with hunger. The troll stood for a moment, then raised his axe; it was the last thing he did, for with a whoosh! Aen breathed her dreadful flame again, a spout, no a jet, of continuous fire, first yellow, then white it was so hot. When she finished, it looked as if someone had taken a giant hatchet and cut a path through the trees. For twelve feet past me, the forest was gone; not even grey, not even writhing. A straight line of black ash so fine, it made glassblower's sand look coarse." C laughed, "Ah, had she but been with me when I first set foot here, or I in the body I once possessed. And when Wyvern Almost-Dragon first spoke to me? I tell you, minstrel, she would have stood over me, smiling as pretty as you please, the loveliest elven maiden you ever did see, and then, she would have been eighteen feet tell, fangs bared in that dangerous, beautiful smile, and I would have said, 'Now she is a dragon'." He paused, pondering reflectively, "She had grown since that time in the forest. She was a fine companion. I miss her. Someday, I shall have to visit her again." Then he smiled, "Still, you have done a fine job of freeing us from our bonds, and while not so dramatic as facing a troll and giant spiders, you are to be commended nonetheless. Now then, it is time we were on our way." --- Edited for typos!
  11. "Too bad I'm not actually a knight. Oh well..." Shaking his head, C looked at Thomas, "I still lack a blade, fair squire. Find me a blade - a sword worthy of one such as I, and I shall make thou my squire, despite not being a knight." C pauses, "However, we are a tad entangled here. Entwined with foulest roots. I wonder... Squire Thomas! I charge thee: release us of these fiendish plants without cutting us to shreds in the process! Lo! It be our first challenge; the test of our new fellowship. The band of C!"
  12. "I... see." C looks around, and shakes his head, then somehow, pushed himself to his full height, pushing at the vines and shoving in irritation. Grandly, C proclaims, "I, C, see that you are indeed a proud... ...being, and if indeed, you wish to serve at my side, I shall not deny thee! But, uh, Tom Atoe, you see, I C, foresee grave and perilous dangers. Art thou sure thou wishes to join mine quest? If so, thou shalt be mine scout! For every party requires one. If thou wish to ride up on mine shoulder, or go ahead, or simply walk by mine side, wouldest thou be willing to fulfil such a role?" Eight Inch Thingy had a name now. Hmm... "And thee, bardic minstrel... if thou is sure, then, will thou serve as mine squire? To cheer with song, and glee, earning us rest at inn tables, and caring for menial tasks?"
  13. ~Other~ C prefers not to be manhandled nor written by others.
  14. ~Relationships~ C hasn't formed any relationships with members of the Pen at the time of penning this.
  15. ~Personality~ C seems earnest, sincere, sarcastic, dry, mild mannered, occasionally brash and outrageous. Usually all at the same time. With C, what you 'C' is what you get - only not quite! There's more to C than meets the eye! *ducks at pun*.
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