Nyyark

OOC: Happy Birthday Zool

Once long ago in the great golden age, One great man stood proud on the great stage. With a mighty manly stature five times that of mine Wielding the greatest overland transport of all time. Yes dear fellows you know the name that follows, Shout it! Sing it! Let it ring throughout the hollows! Can I hear a "Zool! Driver of the Mighty Pen!" His legend will live till the very end. Back in the day Zool and his Pen would ride From coast to coast before the change of the tide And behind him his mighty cargo was stowed Toys, medicine, candy (and boys,) all for a profit were sold. In this inexhaustible glory his life blazed on, His noble deeds inspired many a legend and song. But one fateful, dark, day all this would alter, As a rear wicked rumbling caused him to falter. A cursed black thing, this dark metal beast, Spewing out darkness of non-inky feasts. Roaring like hellcats bathed in white fire, Moving like lightning across a live wire. It screamed alongside, glass eye opening down, Then out leaned a man who said with a frown. “Your time is up Zool! Your days are numbered, Oh how this truck will make tremble and shudder!” But Zool just stared back with eyes cold as ice, Then waited a minute before speaking this thrice: “Your truck may scream, and your truck may shout, But the man who delivers is the man who’s not out.” “Your truck may scream, and your truck may shout, But the man who delivers is the man who’s not out. Your truck may scream, and your truck may shout, But the man who delivers is the man who’s not out!” “Then lets have a race!” spat out the trucker, “I could beat you like I beat your mother!” “I’m afraid,” said Zool, “That mother’s unharmed,” “However dear friend I am not unarmed.” And Zool floored the Pen and it lifted and Spat And Zoomed down the roadway like a shiny black bat. But the Truck did heave and the Truck did holler, And the Truck picked up speeds in over 120 an hour. But Zool kept on trying as the end drew near, Only now did he feel the cold sting of fear. The Truck was ahead by a mile at most, How could he catch up to this far away ghost. He couldn’t, he didn’t, so close to the end. So he slowed to the jeering around the next bend. The man and the beast sat both high and proud. And the man sang this to the laughing crowd. “My truck did scream, and my truck did shout, But the man who delivers is the man who’s not out. My truck did scream, and my truck did shout, But the man who delivers is the man who’s not out.” Zool was sad, but his mind still quick, He knew his Pen more than a useless long stick. “About you I will write the worst of satire, And within two days you will have to retire.” So ended the time of Zool and his ride, Going coast to coast before the change of the tide, Now dawned a new era in the histories of man, Of Zool and his satire, Zool Pen in hand. Happy Birthday Zool!!!!!

Yes I did, fixed and thanks.

Drawing ever nearer toward the Light, Cutout figures fall away as the shadows stretch and distort. My hand no longer reaches for the splatter on my face You don't even blink at the blood Shadows and Paper. The paper sillouttes fold as it all Simplifies, Purifies. Ever closer to the philosopher's desire, Truth, The light, Desire, The Longing. It becomes so intense, The Longing, and it Peels Away the minds of monks. Drawing ever closer, Until we are but the longing and the self. A pause, to exist just a little longer- The We/You/I focus, fuse with the Desire, Longing a bright glow Absolute intensity, then: Face It opens and The Eye flies out A beam of Intensity/Light lances forward So Close, So Slow, then...then...Then..Then, Then, Then THEN THEN- -Event Horizon-

I'd have to say lightning, even though I live in America, which means being hit with a car would pay for my college. But the reason I say lightning is because the worst you can be accused with is being oustide in a lightning storm. Being hit by a car means you were trying to cross a road or it ran off, or something, either way you're the victim. With lightning you can be like "mother nature tried to off me, but I showed her *crazy guesture* cool factor 13!". See what I mean

From the corner down which the slid Nyyark writhed about until he could lift an a slightly blackend from which a tattered and singed black sleave hung. "Congrats Mira," he panted, "you deserved it." Zariah propped her elbows on Nyyark's back, pushing him into the floor as she drew herself higher. "Yes, congradulations Mira." She said, almost managing to keep a level voice. "I can't beleive you blew us up." "Me?" asked Nyyark, cheek smooshed against te floor, "it was the curse! I told you we were cursed! This just pro-Oofff" The rest of Nyyark's tirade was muffled out as Zariah collapsed on his face.

The pot was dark and slighty damp, but compared to exploding, or drowning, or whatever else the curse might do to him. It should be safe here, because there would be no reason for Zariah to come into the kitchen, much less this pot. For a while it had made the poetry sound like some sort of hideous snoring, but some intense squirming eventually found seemed to nullify that effect. Now he would just wait until the winner was declared and... She sat down on the rim. Zariah sat down on the rim. Nyyark only had a few moments to think. He hadn't melted yet, which meant the curse hadn't seen him. Or her. "Wha- mmmrph" Zariah tried to exclaim as she was pulled into the pot. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw him, then immeadiately narrowed into a much more dangerous emotion. "You-" She began. "Wait wait wait wait!" Nyyark said in a loud whisper, "Before you say anything anything I need to tell you something. I'm cursed." "Cursed!?" She yelled, voice equal parts anger and disbelief "Shhh not so loud!" he said, "Yes cursed. But we have to be quiet, because the curse doesn't know we're hiding here." "The curse doesn't know-You mean to tell me that reason you stood me up at the Fall Ball, didn't come to my Valentines Ball, and forgot about our date is because you're cursed?" Zariah exclaimed. "Our date? Oh yeah, exactly!" Nyyark said smiling. She finally understood. "You know, when we first met, I thought you were a nice guy Nyyark. But this," She guestured to the pot and their tangled legs, "this proves how wrong I was. Goodbye Nyyark, I can't say it was nice knowing you, you never game me the chance." "No wait, Zariah" Nyyark shouted as she tried to pull herself over the rim. "You don't understand.." Nyyark put his hand on Zariah's should to stop her, and succeeded in causing her to slide back into the pot, creating a tangled crow boy and girl mess. "Get off of me!" Zariah grunted, scrambling to get out. "I can't" Nyyark murfled, "I'm stu-oof that hurt" As the two struggled in the large kitchen pot the door flew open across the room...

"Well the reason I'm soaked is-" Nyyark was saying as he was interuppted. "Hold on." said said Foutain, jerking around to look over his shoulder. The irritated look vanished from his face as he unfolded the napkin. "Sorry to cut this off Nyyark," Foutain said quickly, "but I've got to go." Foutain rose and headed off to another table. 'Its too bad,' thought Nyyark, 'I was really enjoying his company. And I almost got to telling him about my curse.' Nyyark sat thoughtfully as he let his vision stray across the Caberet. The slam was going pretty well, and was really surprised by how much he liked Loki's poetry. It remined him of someone, although he couldn't put his finger on it. It was almost like... His train of thought cut off abruptly as he spotted a figure comming towards his table. "Her! Why is she comming here! I've got to get out of here. But how? His heart-rate skyrockted as Zariah continued her approach. Just as he thought he was doomed for sure a miracle occured. She looked away for a second. He ran. "Where to go?" he muttered under his breath. He could try and find a way for Crow to come and carry him out, but she said she had a very important meeting with another avian almost her size. It would be bad to interrupt that without a good reason, and even though his curse was a perfectly good reason Crow would never go for it. She never beleive him when he said he was cursed. Besides Nyyark really didn't want to miss the rest of the poetry. It was quite good. He turned and ran the other direction as he saw the big cat lady with the scary owls. Then he saw the kitchen door. 'Perfect!' he thought pushing the door out of the way. A big black cauldren sat in the center of one of the counters. He jumped in without a thought.

Twisty and fun, I like it!

Good job explaining it Vlad. For the more math oriented (like me) I think I made sense of it by thinking that the speed (velocity actually) of light is measured by distance over time. Since it is an absolute but others could see it differently then either the distance or the time has to be a variable amount. While both seem constant I suppose distance wins out (in our current system) because time is treated as variable. ofcourse that only explains the time thingy not the absolute thingy...drat. Umm I think it was something like 'To increase speed(velocity) you have to accelerate. To acclerate you have to apply energy. Since energy can neither be created nor destroyed you have to get it from somewhere. More mass means more inenertia which means more energy. When its worked out to acheive the speed of light you need either all the mass in the universe, or no mass, like light' Atleast I think thats how I made sense of it...

"I take that to mean he's done now?" Nyyark asked more than stated. "Most likely" replied Foutain. "Then lets fix this table before anyone notices." Nyyark said, gesturing to the overturned table they were hiding behind. "Lets" said Foutain. Nyyark and Foutain quickly began turning their bunker back into a table. Despite being a shadowy sillouette, the still seated figure in the corner seemed to grin at their efforts.

If there is anything I can do to help, let me know. Good Luck future poet.

It might be a clearer break if you hadn't used advice in the first stanza, as it isn't a true rhyme, or if you put a No after that dash. This way it signifys a change of thought rather than censorship. On a reread I like the fourth stanza more. I was just mentally trying to conform it to the other three. I personally love when people ask me questions about my poetry, because it helps me grow too. *huggles* Always glad to help.

The outter rim of the universe should be the initail energy released in the big bang, traveling at the speed of light. So it should be expanding at that speed, meaning that one would have to travel faster than light in order to escape the universe. In a sense it would be expanding at rate that makes it impossible to escape. Or so I think

OOC: LOL at you both!

Nyyark blinked as Wyvern made his announcement. Absurd as it was it meant he missed much of the poetry already. Blasted curse! He peeled away another leech. As long as he remained hidden from Zariah he ought to be able to hear the rest.

I'd call it a poem! I really like how it narrates a mental journey. Cool stuff.

I like it. The first two stanzas share a simmilar structure, but the third breaks from it by rhyming all four words (sorta). And the fourth has forget at the end of two lines. Is this intentional, because it kinda threw me off. Otherwise very good.

Super! Ich hat eine Dict fur meiner Deutsch Klass auch gemacht, aber es war schlect. I think it had to do with decapitating a cat... Yours is much better.

I'd stop for you. But I'd have done it without the duckies.

Nyyark stumbled into Caberet shedding water everywhere. His dark cloak was rent everywhere, its wingfolds bearly recognizable. The normally invisible blue veins that traced his pale face bulged with his exauhstion ofset only by the black hair plastered across his cheek. The ever present brown roots were even more apparent in this state, and to make matters worse one of his contacts had fallen out, leaving him with one eye brown, the other silver. He exhaled sharply as he slopped into something solid. It was a large cat...woman, cat thingy. He blinked the water out of his eyes and cleared his throat. "I don't beleive we've met," Nyyark said, "I'm Nyy-" His eyes widened as two very large birds landed on her shoulders. Owls? He couldn't help but stare "Ahem" said the Cat-lady-thingy "Do I have something on my owls?" Nyyark knew he should say something, somehow salvage the situation. But they were so huge and intimidating. He'd never- "eep!" The Hooter's spell was broken as he tore off the leech that just bit his his arm. As he held it in his hand his mind went into overdrive. "Did you know," he said, "that the pen has a leech farm. Apparently there is a passage that leads to it right outside my door. You see many pen members prefer the ink that can be extracted..." 'This is odd' he thought as he talked. 'Things are still more difficult than usual. Its almost as if she's-'. Nyyark stopped his ramble abruptly as he spied a certian crow lady across the room. 'She's here!' his brain screamed. 'I've gotta hide!' "I'm sorry," Nyyark said, "but I need to go now." Dropping the leech Nyyark rushed to the darkest corner her could find. Only after he squished into his seat did he see the shadowy figure he shared his table with. "I won't tell if you don't"

Nyyark hacked up another cloud of dust. It was everywhere. Apparently these magic beans the witch doc' gave him weren't working on his RLS afterall. But he was wise to it now. It all started because he'd made a promise to Zariah. He'd show up at the ball. Sure. Just that he was kindly gated to a town 20 miles away by a helping friend who didn't realize he didn't possess the capablity to get back. Atleast not without walking for the rest of the night and half the next day. Then the blackouts began. About a month before her Quill Quest. Real Life Syndrome had been his diagnosis, and even though being a pennite put him at a much greater risk of contracting it, his seemd awfully fishy. Especially when it seemd to be getting better right up until he put his bid on an apology date with Zariah. Thats when he realized it, he was cursed. For some unknown reason, an unknown curse must be preventing him from meeting any commitments with Zariah. Thats why he was awake now. He hadn't even so much as mentioned this event to her, and thus freed himself of his curse. Ofcourse he still woke up just the morning of the Slam, but that was enough time to make it if he rushed. Thats why as soon as saw the words "The Mighty Pen Carbaret Room will be hosting a Quill Quest Event for Revery the dreamlost" he threw down the scoll and rushed to get ready. As he was taking the steps two at a time down to the Cabaret he wondered who would be in attendence.

OOC: Congrats Babe, I knew you could do it! *hugs*

Nyyark continued walking. The roses question about having a girlfriend was interesting. He had asked out vulture girl once, but then he never saw her again. He'd asked Zariah to go to the ball with him, but accidentally walking into the circle of teleportation had landed him in one of the small towns the pen bought its daily goods from and it had taken him weeks to get back. Now he'd bid on Zariah again, but he wasn't sure what they wee going to do. He didn't even know if she would like him. Sure she and Crow got along well enough, but Nyyark was very different from Crow. Nyyark released a silent sigh. Such self introspection was for his poetry, not his walks. He looked down the long marble road before him. He had suspicions that it continued on to eternity, but he kept that to himself. After all he had promised not to ask any questions. All in all his best bet was to focus on not falling off the trail into oblivion, and to keep both his curiosity and self reflection to a minimum. After all in was Valentine’s Day, and neither of those things seemed to help on this particular date. Yep. Keep on walking, and don't fall off. Right.

OOC: Hey sorry for the delay SV, I had to go into work with my mom twice yesterday on only hours of sleep, so I was a tad brain-dead. ...shakes his head in amazement yet again. This wasn't the first time he'd heard flowers talking to him, especially after just waking up, but this was the first time he suspected it was actually happening. Not that the crystal roses or marble road stretching before him in the void should do anything to affirm those suspicions, but there was something, a feeling maybe, of existing more now than he ever had before. "Maybe this is one of those planes of higher existence," he thinks, "and that’s why things seem so real." "Actually," says an orange tinted crystal rose, "this is one of those bridge planes. A sort of transit between the planes if you will." Nyyark stops suddenly. "You can read my thoughts?" he exclaims in wonder. "Noooo," says the rose, "you said that aloud..." "Oh" Nyyark says with a blush, "I suppose spending so much time alone makes one talk to themselves." "Yeah, sure," Says the rose. "Anyways, if you have any questions just ask me. My name is Rosette. Yeah I know, it’s a pun, my mother had an odd sense of humor." "Well Rosette, why don't you tell me where I'm going." Nyyark says. "Now that’s a secret. However I can tell you that we have a ways to go. So how about we start moving again." Rosette says, uprooting itself with its leaves. "Come on." Nyyark follows as the rose hops along in front of him. And he walks...