Tralla

lmao too big? I've driven 14 hours north and only made it about two thirds up BC. Whee. Anyway, American Dream? To annex everybody else, obviously. =P Seriously, being Canadian, my view probably doesn't count as much as the Americans in here, but to me the American Dream has always been about the same as most religious/cult ideals - "We are better than everybody else, therefore we have the right to do whatever we want to those people to enforce that superiority. But God help them if one of those dogs we're kicking bites back." Or maybe that's the American attitude? I dunno. I'm happy to say that I've found a group of incredible, abnormal Americans here. =D

Happy B-Day Wrennie. =)

Now it's back to the same non-updated page again. My cache never did this before... O.o - A very confused Tralla

Hm. And now that I've posted, all of them change. Odd.

the main page isn't updating the Last Posted: column. It still says the last post was Orlan in the Bugs and Problems thread, but before I post this, it'll actually be ntraveler's horrah thread. Is that just a problem with my browser, or are other people experiencing the same thing?

coooool I have no life, what with being a student and all, so I should be tuned in most nights I can remember to. =D

Vlad - she's a fan of "The Books in Which You Are the Hero" French version of CYOA, is my guess. =)

It could be or long or as short as you chose, but I probably wouldn't make it too long... maybe no more than a page or two in Word. The point of a CYOA is that the reader gets to make a lot of the decisions, right? And it's not like anyone who comments here would be obligated to write segments, it's going to work on a totally spontaneous system... You're reading this storyline, it's going great, then BAM! OMG! It stopped! Well, lemme just write this section here... Then you're done and can read another path, or go back to whatever RP's you're tied into, or whatever. =D

Hello Pennites. Let's call this a proposal for my Quill Quest, which is definitely very much still in the works, but finally on its way. I'm going to outline what I plan to do, and I would very much appreciate some assistance with a couple of things. I am planning to revive a wonderful old fantasy story style for my quill quest. For the first time (that I know of) the Pen will have its very own Choose Your Own Adventure. I'm planning to construct an interactive story that allows you to read a segment, and at the end, choose one of a small number of different actions you'd like to perform. Based on your selection, another segment of the story will appear for your reading entertainment. This will obviously have to be hosted off the boards themselves, since the boards wouldn't really support that sort of function. I'd like to step this story up a notch from the original paperback CYOA, and make it even more interactive. I'm going to flesh out the beginning of the various possible storylines. When you reach the end of a particular storyline, I'd like you to add your own unique talent to the project by writing the next segment of that path of the story. The project will be updated to include your addition, and the next Pennite who reaches the new end of the storyline is welcome to write the next continuation. I will add segments as well, to help guide the story, make it interesting, and close off segments that really seem to be dead ends and/or finished, but I would like to have as many people contributing to the story as possible. Here's where the plea for help goes out. There's a number of things I'd like some help on. Number one is the engine to make this all work. I myself have a very limited knowledge of scripting - I know the very basics of html, but that's it. Would anybody know of an engine or how to create an engine that would be capable of automatically processing those updates to make the story work as I just described? I know I've seen them around, but I can't for the life of me remember where. If another Quillbearer has this knowledge, I'd be delighted to team up on this project, and make it a dual Quill Quest. Please, let me know if you can help. If all else fails, I'll maintain it manually, but that could quickly get very ugly, and updates would probably be slow. =/ Second would be hosting. I could probably host in on my shaw webspace, but that would likely only work if I did the good old fashioned manual method. Is there any possibility of hosting it here at the Pen? I can chip in for webspace fees, if it would help. Third would be rules. This I would really like some input on, so that I know what you would all enjoy the most. We have plenty of RP's here at the Pen, and I would really like this to remain strictly a story - ie, no Pennite characters intruding upon the plotline. I'd like to introduce a couple simple rules, also to help me with guiding the story and keeping it from getting horribly confusing (I've seen multi-writer stories like this end up with a list of random characters a mile long that really are just their own avatars popping in and out everywhere, and it gets ugly.) - Rule 1: Only myself - and my partner quillbearer, if I end up with one - can add, remove, or kill off major characters. When writing your segment, you can add small side characters that will only be around for your segment (all characters interact with people outside their party), but major additions should be discussed with us before being added to the story. - Rule 2: This is going to be a strictly fantasy story. No flying off in alien spaceships, no laser beams, no modern settings. Only what might be found in a fantasy world will be found in this one. Fourth (and final) problem would be story. I've got a couple things brewing, but I'd like to get some suggestions, if I could. Please feel free to toss suggestions out here if you've got any inspirations burning a hole through your head in their efforts to get out. That's about it. Sorry for writing so much. Comments? Questions? Suggestions? Most importantly, is anyone interested? No point in creating an interactive story, after all, if no one is interesting in contributing to it.

gj hun. =)

More seasonal silliness (might as well add it here, instead of spamming the Cab with half a dozen different threads...) SANTA CLAUS: AN ENGINEER'S PERSPECTIVE There are approximately two billion children (persons under 18) in the world. However since Santa does not visit children of Muslim, Hindu, Jewish or Buddhist (except maybe in Japan) religions, this reduces the workload for Christmas night to 15% of the total, or 378 million (according to the Population Reference Bureau). At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that comes to 108 million homes, presuming that there is atleast one good child in each..... Santa has about 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west (which seems logical). This works out to 967.7 visits per second. This is to say that for each Christian household with a good child, Santa has around 1/1000th of a second to park the sleigh, hop out, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, eath whatever snacks have been left for him, get back up the chimney, jump into the sleigh and get on to the next house.....Assuming that each of these 108 million stops are evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course, we know to be false, but will accept for the purposes of our calculations), we are now talking about 0.78 miles per household; a total trip of 75.5 million miles, not counting bathroom stops or breaks. This means Santa's sleigh is moving 650 miles per second -- 3,000 times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man-made vehicle, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second, and a conventional reindeer can run (at best) 15 miles per hour.... The payload of the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium sized Lego set (two pounds), the sleigh is carrying over 500 thousand tonnes, not counting Santa himself. On land, a conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds. Even granting that the 'flying' reindeer could pull ten times the normal amount, the job can't be done with eight or even nine of them - Santa would need 360,000 of them. This increases the payload, not counting the weight of the sleigh, another 54,000 tonnes, or roughly seven times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth (the ship, not the monarch)... 600,000 tonnes travelling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air resistance - this would heat up the reindeer in the same fashion as a spacecraft re-entering the earth's atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer would absorb 14.3 quintillion joules of energy per second each. In short, they would burst into flames almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them and creating deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire reindeer team would be vapourized within 4.26 thousandths of a second, or right about the time Santa reached the fifth house on his trip.... Not that it matters, however since Santa, as a result of accelerating from a dead stop to 650 m.p.s. in 0.001 seconds, would be subjected to acceleration forces of 17,500 g's. A 250 pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of the sleigh by 4, 315, 015 pounds of force, instantly crushing his bones and organs and reducing him to a quivering blob of pink goo.... Therefore, if Santa did exist, he's dead now. Merry Christmas.

Twas the night before finals, And all through the college, The students were praying For last minute knowledge. Most were quite sleepy, But none touched their beds, While visions of essays danced in their heads. Out in the taverns, A few were still drinking, And hoping that liquor would loosen their thinking. Awake in my dorm room, I had been pacing, And dreading exams I soon would be facing. My roommate was speechless, His nose in his books, And my comments to him Drew unfriendly looks. I drained all the coffee, And brewed a new pot, No longer caring That my nerves were shot. I stared at my notes, But my thoughts were muddy, My eyes went ablur, I just couldn't study. "Some pizza might help," I said with a shiver, But each place I called Refused to deliver. I'd nearly concluded That life was too cruel, With futures depending On grades earned in school. When all of a sudden, Our door opened wide, And Patron Saint Put-It-Off Ambled inside. His spirit was careless, His manner was mellow, But then, with an effort He started to bellow: "What kind of student Would make such a fuss, To toss back at teachers What they tossed at us?" "On Cliff Notes! On Crib Notes! On Last Year's Exams! On Wingit and Slingit, And Last Minute Crams!" His message delivered, He vanished from sight, But we heard him laughing Outside in the night. "Your teachers have pegged you, So just do your best. Happy Finals to All, And to All, a good test."

Ooops... I missed this one. =( Sorry Zariah. Hope it was fantastic.

AN: This will be a shorter one, and the last update for probably close to a month. Just to warn you in advance. I have the last race in all of my courses these next two weeks, and then a steady stream of finals. But a little forbidden writing now and a again is always fun... Long ingrained habits drove Javick awake shortly before dawn when the morning bells began to toll. As always, they produced a sullen, somewhat lonely sound, and this morning only served to bring his mind back t the devastating losses of the night before. Kaolin, a tightly curled ball of warmth, was still tucked closely against his right side. As the bells continued to toll, she stirred and whimpered softly, but quieted as he reached out to stroke her hair gently. They’d given up so much, to protect her. Her Gift. Why? What was there about this silent little slip of a girl that made them protect her so staunchly? Gifted kids had come and gone before. Why was she any different? You’re just a sucker for those pretty green eyes, he thought to himself. But that wasn’t it, not really. Kaolin was special. He could feel it in his gut. And he would continue to protect her until he, too, was dead, or taken by the mages. The first thing to do, he decided suddenly, was to get out of the Home. It was a dead end, and there would be nowhere to hide the next time the Mages swept through. They had to leave, and there would be no better time than now, when everything was still in disarray and the Guardians were unsure as to who had been taken. There could be no better time. When they were out, they could beg employment from someplace in another district in the city, where they would be less likely to be turned back over to the Falliks. Yes. That is what they would do. Now. Reaching out again, this time to shake Kaolin awake, he realized with a start that she already was. A pair of expressionless green eyes stared up at him, unblinking, framed by a gaunt, pale face and filthy brown hair. “Zee’s gone forever, isn’t she?” she asked in a barely audible whisper. Javick’s throat closed in on itself. “Yes.” “Loki too?” “Yes. And Rhib.” “Rhib…” Her eyes clouded, and she frowned slightly. “I’m supposed to sing for him.” “We’ll both sing for him. Later. Now, we have to get out of here.” She just looked up at him blankly. “The Home, Kao. We’re leaving the Home. You’re not safe here.” “You’re coming with me?” “Of course. I’ll always protect you.” “Zee said that, once.” “I know.” Kaolin was silent for a long moment. “Will they take you, too?” “They might. I won’t let them take you while I still breathe, though. I promise.” Kaolin wanted him for another long moment, nodded once, and spoke no more as they crept cautiously out of their hiding place and out over the mercifully empty roof of the Home. As they fled into the City below, already bustling even though the sun had only began to peek furtively over the unseen horizon, her tiny hand was tucked securely into his own, and Javick repeated his vow once again to himself. Kaolin would never go to the Mages. Never.

Happy Happy Birthday Appy. =)

*Does the first comment happy dance, even though she's a little out of practice* Very, very nice, Falc m'dear. I like the images in this, particularly the gargoyle-esque image in "Heart of granite, wings of stone..." It's an amazingly apt image for this kind of situation. Well done. *Stops dancing to forcefeed Falcon sugar and push him over to sit by a nice warm fireplace*

*pokes Stick incessantly until he runs screaming from her lap*

*Gets herself settled in it*

two or three or a baker's dozen pieces of me fragmented, disjointed, not broken broken is too violent a word overlapping, conflicting, disagreeing agreeing to disagree not warring warring takes too much effort am I happy sad or somewhere in between am I a bitch or a sweetheart or something else entirely is there anything but work and school and Solitude? questions are too uncertain and so everything returns to nothing and I plod, not doggishly or mulelike but something of a hybrid both kicking and biting at anything near while craving the gentle word or soothing touch of a heart not so cold as mine. and the pieces become a puzzle i never try to sort because ignorance is bliss puzzles take too much time and questions are too uncertain and all returns to nothing Nothing inside me swells and breathes and lives not doggish or mulelike but something else entirely grows s p r e a d s malignant until the me is consumed by the it and i am nothing.

oooooh I like. =)

Hope it's a great one, Cheyenne. =)

awwww... thanks guys. :woot: You all are the absolute best.

Have a great one, Hopper. =)

Way to go, Wyvvie! =) Nobody better suited!

The children were sent to their beds very quickly after that, with appropriately dire warnings from Domas of the consequences of speaking to anyone about that night. Loki lay curled in the dark of their cell, weeping uncontrollably, with Zee and Kaolin huddled protectively around her; she knew full well how close she had come to being snared by the Lady High Mage. “Will she come back, Zee?” Loki whimpered. A steady whine of fear clawed emanated from her, and her eyes were unnaturally wide in a tortured combination of terror, desperation, and despair. “Felamorrell is watching her now,” Zee replied softly. She stroked Loki’s hair with a trembling hand, and tears threatened to spill out onto her cheeks. She knew as well as Loki did that that was no guarantee of safety. Once a High Mage spotted you and knew what you were, there was no safety anywhere, ever again. Some ran, but did not make it very far – the Mages, in their ever-insatiable greed for more of the Gift, hunted the luckless wretches down wherever they fled. Loki didn’t have even that impossible hope for salvation – she was already trapped in the Home. She was doomed. ~ ~ ~ The High Mage Zermaterix moved swiftly. Only two nights later, Javick was urgently shaking Zee awake, then moving on to do the same to Kaolin and Loki. “A bunch of men just showed up at the main gates, demanding to see ol’ Fallik,” Javick hissed, scuttling back to peer out the doorway cautiously. “Armed to the teeth, ‘cept one. Guess who the Mage sent to collect for her.” Loki started breathing in heavy, gulping sobs, her eyes scanning the walls frantically for some nonexistent chance of escape. Her gaze unfocused as her curse overrode her senses, and after a tense moment of watching whatever it was she saw, Loki gave a little shriek and collapsed, moaning and weeping. Zee felt her stomach sink. The girl looked so… defeated. “They’re coming,” Loki whispered brokenly. “There’s no escape.” She turned haunted eyes on Zee. Her next statement was barely audible. “They’ll take Kaolin, too.” “No!” The cry of denial burst not from Zee, but from Javick. “No,” he repeated grimly. “They will not take her.” An object appeared in his hand suddenly, small but sharp and deadly dangerous. He turned it in the dim light to be sure Zee saw. “That’s…” A mage slayer, Zee finished silently. One of the most potently poisoned and, of course, highly illegal, weapons in all the Mage-held lands. Few were left after years of intense hunting – the High Mages hunted them almost as obsessively as the Gifted. They had good reason, since the barest nick could completely paralyze a Mage for several hours, stripping of them all ability to use any sort of Gift at all. A solid blow could kill, even if the wound would otherwise have been survivable. No one knew where they had come from, and Zee had no idea how Javick could ever have gotten his hands on one. She had a feeling she didn’t want to know. “I promised Eli I’d keep her safe,” Javick stated simply. The blade disappeared, and that was that. He peered out into the hallway again. “We have to get Loki out of here. Damn! I didn’t expect her to move this quick!” “They’ll have men at all th’ exits.” “I know. If we could just-” “The roof,” Kaolin blurted out abruptly. Zee glanced over at her, almost forgotten in her silence and the shadows surrounding her. The tiny girl’s vivid green eyes were fixed on a point on the ceiling, unblinking, and they seemed to almost glow in the darkness. “Good idea,” Javick said. “There won’t be as many people patrolling the exits to the roof, if any at all.” Checking outside once more, he waved for them to follow, then disappeared into the still-silent hallway. “C’mon, Loki,” Zee urged, tugging at the girl’s limp arm. “We gotta go.” “No hope. No hope. No escape…” “Shut up! Get up!” “I saw it, Zee! There’s no use!” “We’ve never tried t’ prevent what you see before. How d’ you know it’s th’ unavoid’ble future you see?” “I know.” “Would Kern’ve wanted you t’ just lay down an’ wait t’ die?” Loki glared up at her. “Dirty.” “I’ll do whatev’r I’ve got to t’ keep you alive! Come ON!” Zee hauled the girl forcefully to her feet and shoved her towards the door. Loki gave herself a little shake and darted for the exit, seeming to realize just then that they actually had a way to get her free of the Home. If she were out, she’d have a chance. She had to have a chance. She had to. Javick and Kaolin were already waiting in the hallway outside, and Rhib had joined up with them at some point. Seeing the girls emerge finally, Javick motioned them forward, and they needed no urging to move quickly but silently; heavy booted feet could be heard, marching down the hall from the main entrance. Javick led them forward as quickly as he dared, through a confusing series of hallways, supposedly locked doors, hidden side passages, and long-unused narrow stairwells. Up and up they climbed, pausing only to allow Javick or Zee to check ahead for nasty surprises. They encountered no one, although a couple times they had to veer away when they heard a Guardian’s heaving footsteps approaching. After what seemed like an entire lifetime of eternities, they stood before one of the tiny, heavily bolted, and almost completely forgotten doors that gave access onto the roofs of the Home complex. It took the combined efforts of Javick and Zee to force the rusted deadbolts open. They grated loudly as they grudgingly gave way, and Javick winced as the sounds seemed to echo and reverberate and amplify on their way down the empty hallway. Surely somebody had heard that. They’d have to move quickly. They bullied the door open – the hinges were rusted as well, and squealed in animalistic pain as they were forced to serve their purpose after so many years of inactivity. The children waited apprehensively, huddled just inside the exit, scanning the seemingly uninhabited roof cautiously. Zee signaled that she’d go out first, then oozed her way over the threshold, clinging to the shadows and slinking along in a way that suddenly made Javick realize how Zee had stayed free so long before coming to the Home. After a few feet, he couldn’t even see her anymore. They waited. Time slowed, taking sadistic pleasure in stretching seconds into minutes and minutes into hours while the children clustered in the doorway, shivering slightly from the bite of cold in the night air. They waited longer, listening tensely and hearing nothing. The moon slid mysteriously out from behind the clouds, and Zee was illuminated where she perched perhaps fifteen or twenty feet from the exit. Smiling, she waved for them to come out, and Loki sidled slowly out into the moonlight. Smiling... The little hairs on Javick’s neck prickled, and he glanced behind him, back down the hallway, suspiciously. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Smiling. Zee didn’t smile. She grinned. A shrill, unnatural scream tore from Kaolin’s little body, and Javick whipped his head around, to watch what would haunt his nightmares for years to come; the Lady High Mage herself materializing out of empty air, seizing Loki in both claws, and starting to fade almost instantly out of sight again, along with the illusion of Zee still perched on the rooftop beyond. “Zeeee!” Loki wailed, struggling hysterically in the Mage’s unyielding grip. “Zeeeeee!” Zee soared through the air in a last-minute desperate action, tackling the High Mage less than a breath before they all disappeared, together. The clouds rolled back in, swallowing the traitorous moon, and the three were gone, as if they had never been. Javick stared at the spot where they had been. He was numb. How could they be gone? Zee. Loki. How could she have taken them both? He’d been so certain he was leading them to a place where they could escape! He’d led them right into the Mage’s clutches! The roof, Kaolin had said. Could she have known…? Kaolin. Kaolin was still screaming, and Rhib was shaking his shoulder urgently, trying to say something, but Javick couldn’t hear, wouldn’t hear… Zee can’t be gone. Loki. By all the Gods, Loki. I’m sorry. What Rhib was saying finally penetrating, as did the sound of heavy footfalls racing closer, alerted by Kaolin’s cries. Javick clapped a hand over her mouth to silence her, and struggled to close the door with Rhib’s hurried assistance. How had things gone so wrong? “They’re almost here, Javick!” Rhib hissed. “Loki said they’d take Kaolin, too!” “Never,” Javick snarled. Grabbing the girl’s hand, he took off at a run, Rhib scooping up her other hand and racing along beside them. The warriors – the clatter of weapons suggested them, instead of the Guardians – somehow kept pace behind them, even as they darted through a crazy maze of interconnecting hallways. “They’ll catch us,” Rhib panted. “No!” “Don’t ever let them catch her, Javick. Don’t ever let them have her.” Javick’s eyes met Rhib’s for a moment, then slid away as he read the boy’s intentions in his condemned eyes. He nodded curtly. Rhib gave Kaolin’s hand one last squeeze. “Sing for me, Kao, when you can,” was his parting whisper. Then he, too, was gone, turning down another, more obvious route, shouting things like “I won’t go!” as he ran. Javick clutched Kaolin’s hand in the death grip and led her away, into the darkest, smallest, most obscure corner of the complex he could think of. There he settled down, pulled Kaolin’s unresisting body close, and waited. The only sound was the skittering of the occasional rat as it scurried from lair to lair. They were alone. He tried to stay awake, to listen for the sound of someone approaching, but after long hours of silent vigil, his body, overcome by the grief of this unprecedented loss, escaped into the deep sleep of the damaged, the broken, and the dead.