Damon Inferel

*mock-slaps pip...* Snap out of it! It's not you! Ack! *shakes pip back* Just kidding, I knew you didn't mean it... he he... sort of. Good poem, though I don't know if you used a real person for either of the two who were arguing. *puts pip between two arguing pieces of bread*

Yeah, regrettfully I had.have some of the same tendencies. I just have bound all of them into promises, so I'm not allowed to hurt myself. I already am a sadomasochist, but I tied it all into pacifism and the promise to my girlfriend to not hurt myself. I did a lot of bad things with a clay knife... meow. Sadly, I don't regret it, but I could never apologize enough. For putter her through it, I am sorry, but for doing it to myself... that's a little different. I do feel guilty, mind you. And the whole... suicidal thing... twenty-nine pills didn't kill me, so I must be pretty well off as far as health is concerned. Meep, I probably shouldn't have said any of that...

Meow! And I'm gona expand it too when I get more random ideas!... maybe...

Erm... meow? Forgive me, as my spider sense of analogy is a little off. Was this poem about someone hiding their emotions? In any case, this is a fairly decent poem. As I am not one to revis my work after it has been posted, it would be hypocritical to ask you to edit it slightly. While I may not have understood it, the language in itself did convey a essage of some sort, one I am willing to discover when my brain decides to stop tingling. "Spider senses Jingling! Ack! Christmas carols!"

Meow... forgive me, as I am something of a void of emotions, but I quite understand. While I may not understand completely, being a guy and all, I do see the concept and the feeling portrayed. Actually, I suppose I do understand, though I am one without experience. It's things such as this that lead us all to believe true love is a myth... even though it's out there. Forgive me if I don't sound as though I know what I'm talking about. As far as critique, the rhyming was a little off later on, but I don't know the definition of any other actual literary terms, so I can only comment on the rhyme. A very emotional and creative poem though. Though you say you didn't quite get the appropriate emotions in there, I still understand...

(OOC: Frantically waves arms and paws as Damon turns more into a kitty... not really* Plwase excuse my current absence, as I wrote myself into a corner. I'll wait for you guys to somehow resurrect my spirit before I can stop cringing at the fact I ruined my writing abilities for this post as of my last one.)

Um... I hope you can forgive me as I am not exactly rolling, parsay, with laughter. I'm mentally drowning in it! In any case, it's a great play-ish, and I hope it's completion is sometime in the near or distant or eternal future. Meow... I only say mentally because all I ever really do as far as physical laughter is not often, and then I start to choke, so I laugh in my head. As a critic-ish, I would have to zay zat ze French guy zhould have more of ze, how you zay, ze accent, where all s'z are z'z! Meep. But it was great though.

Meow! I remember this one ashke... I think. I never really complimented you on your genius, at least not about this particular piece. As always, you astound me with your superior talent, and as such, I look forward to more writings from you... Meow! I really mean it. Please forgive the short review...

Descriptions? *blinks* Which one? I worte two, though one of them wasn't really meant for review...

No no Salinye, I had no intention of editing the poem. My skills actually are incapable of being less gory and still write a morbid poem... sorry. I was speaking of the RP of which you hold place as a cleric in. As my beloved is not one for gore, and neither are you, I have made a mental note that I would not provide the following to my posts as far as when you slay a monster. As you approach the druids, the crossbow bolt let loose by Harmon finds itself planted deep in one of the forest elder's head, crimson flowing down his forehead and along the bridge of his nose as he collapses to the floor, a crumpled heap of Nature's Magic personified. With a loud cry the remaining party members who chose to fight directly, something the fighter is more well known for, leap into battle, sickles and swords clashing together in a dramtic display of steel and sparks. Enos' dagger gouges the throat from one of the enemy, gore spewing forth and coating his shirt in a sticky mess, drying quickly as it soaks into the fabric. There is not time to react, however, as the hermit leans forward on his oak staff, stretching one emaciated finger forward, commanding the legion of squirrels to do his bidding. It is you, Salinye, who finds yourself in terrible pain as one attaches his powerful jaws to your neck, tearing at your flesh, the soggy, crimson coated fur of the rodent beating back and forth against the sweat already trickling down your neck. Instinctivly, your hand flashes up to throw the vile thing away from you as you mutter a few divine words and close your wound. This fight seems a little more difficult than you originally thought... That's the kind of gore I can do if I wasn't limited, and if you catch me in one of my sadistic moods... *laughs evilly* It gets much better and much worse... So, in favor of you and my girlfriend, I decided to tone it down. I wouldn't want any of my players smattering their keyboards... though I believe you have a stronger stomach than that. Meow!

A teacup on a computer screen Pours himself a cup But when the internet's seen He is forced to shut up A mile long and two feet deep A hole is in the ground A kitten lies about to sleep Pink laundry all around Six tin men on small tightropes Are gradually losing their edge The ropes snap to form small slopes To rust later is their pledge A giant ball of lint cries out A screaming shriek of pain The dryer catches it in mid-shout And adds another stain A massive pot is on the road And he trips on a rock A small green figure, like a toad Draws itself in chalk Fifteen men in a treasure chest Drinking a bottle of beer The captain falls asleep to rest His snoring creates fear Psychotic men wear tight green pants That make them look suspicious Their uniforms in a kitchen of ants In their tights they wash the dishes A ninja boy and shooting stars Make way for all that beckon A throwing knife and expensive cars shall bring the End I reckon A random poem that's not very long I slowly brought to close One more day in no bard's song But in Sunday morning shows

Salinye... *laughs a little* If you continue my campaign... you haven't even seen the start of my talents for gore description yet... however, should you find it a trifle queasy or the like, i believe i can edit it a trifle more, as my dearest is not one for gore herself either.

Cyndy continues to stare, but looks at the concern on Yasuo's face and pads over lightly, attempting to figure out how to stop staring. She shakes her head a little to balance the fluid from her ears back into where they belong and squints a little. "Yasuo." She comments quietly, the first time in a long time, "Something wrong? What's wrong Yasuo? What did you do?" She continues to stoll cautiously over towards the wolf over yonder and sits on his knee and bats at his face with clawless paws. "Yasuo, who are 'they'?"

Damon walks in and kills the RP... Meow! (OOC: Pip said it was dead...)

...Short review... meow. It's a good poem... very much so, and I'm guessing that that person wasn't really her daughter. Mrowr? I need to start writing poetry again too...

(OOC: Meow... no need to edit. It still works!) She still continues to stare wildly at Yasuo, waiting patiently for him to do whatever he's going to do, but strikes up a conversation where Yasuo left off. "That...? Wait, is she supposed to be..." She pauses from her staring for a minute and blushes... if a cat can do that. After she goes back to staring, her eyes are all quivery, but they clear up into a wrinkle (her nose, not her eyes...) when she sniffs the ale on Yasuo's breath. "You really need to stop drinking Yasuo, and then maybe you wouldn't be so confused... and your breath would smell better." She stops her staring and waits for the reek of alcohol to linger on, and looks at the thought-tuna one more time as it swims by in a splashy sound effect. Damn... if him and Ki... that ruins my main reason why I want to be human-ish... (OOC: Meow, meep, and other exclamation point sound effects! Um... the last part... I don't know if it's going to throw anyone off or not. Eh... see, Elwen's a lady, and Ki's a lady, and Yasuo is a guy... and my character has a bit of a crush on Yasuo. Eep! I don't know if that's bad or not, but it explains-ish why she's always crawling all over him and acting cute... aside from the fact she's still a kitten. sorry!)

Amidst the destruction of... Tokyo City, Japan, Damon looks curiously at the narrator of the story and decides he wants to save the world too. His crimson trenchcoat floats about behind him, concealing his shotgun, the only means of protection he has against the Katari... whatever they are. "This desolation has become monotonous." he says, his ebony coored hair floating about behind him as he loads another round for the onslaught of various things heading his way. "All right, I suppose we could have a jolly round of target practice, so step up to the plate ladies and gentleman because we have quite the show for you." A second later he finds himself reloading as two Katari grunts? explode in a flurry of blood and buckshot. (OOC: Er... I'm sort of adding to this-ish, so please bear with me) "I've been dealing with you guys for too long, I need to meet the big guy." As the ravenous creatures that are the Katari's pets advance on him, or rather called the "Skish..." he mutters, the blinding fury of claws swarming towards him in an additional mound of teeth and razor edged anger. "I suppose the mindless shock troops of the Katari deserve a little action before I run out of here. what do you think?" his alst question asked to absolutely no one in particular, but he has a habit of giving credit to his imaginary partner so he doesn't inflate his ego too much. On or two shots are fired off from the blazing shotgun before he realizes he is out of ammo. "Time to go." he mutters to himself as he pivots and begins to run, several corpses smattered on the dusty pavement behind his scurrying feet. "What I'd give for some wings..." (OOC: I really hope i didn't mess anything up, but you gave such a 'blah' intro... no offense, but I had to somewhat broaden what we were up against... should I have interfered with your plan... I apologize profusely.

((OOC: A six foot tall anthro-wolf looked up at a less than one foot tall kitten... who is annoyingly staring at him on the ground?! The small kitten continues to stare at her Irish mentor, wonderng if he'll have to do a backflip or something before the thought of what he said catches up to her brain. "Yasuo! you didn't promise them to take care of them, just me!" she twitches her tail back and forth as she goes back to her anticipation, intentionally ignoring the self-proclaimed 'greatest thief of the spirit world'. As she sits there, looking down? on Yasuo she finds more tuna-riding thoughts cross her mind about the kitsune. why would anyone steal anything... and be proud of it? And why would anyone be so full of themselves? and why would they turn down a cookie? she goes back to staring at Yasuo with hope and annoyance. "Really, you'll keep your promise? Meow!(OOC:...I get so sentimental. *tear...*)

Ug... must forgive primitive bran... er... brain. I not get poem, but good message talk makes sense from Parmenion. Basically, I rather enjoyed your poem, though it was short. however, with my lack of reading speed capability, I thought it to be lengthy enough to spend time on... not a sermon, just a thought.

Meow... thanks for not getting upset. I thought you might, which is why I wasn't expecting you to review it...

Cyndy stares, leaping out of the hood and onto the ground and sits patiently, purring. "Meow..." she sighs. "He's gonna show me, and then I... I don't know what i'll do. I'll be really surprised, and probably run around in circles like a rabid catfish! Meow!" She stops for a second, still purring to herself, and thinks about what she would do if she could be a person. "Well, I could wear clothes for one thing... You know, so I could play with the loose threads that I pull out. and I could feed myself, and do a lot of other things that you can do." As she says the last part, she turns to Yasuo, staring with a scary sense of hope. the kind that is annoyingly hopeful where you want to smash it's head with a rock so it'll stop staring. Or... an annoying cat stare as it is also known as. "Thanks Yasuo! Meow!" At that, she sits patiently and waits for him to do whatever he's going to do. (meow... this post wasn't that great, but I'm mulling over something... but not what I was earlier, so don't worry.)

A man, an axe, a swing, and blood A splatter of crimson falls in the mud A head in a basket, already stained, A souvenir for the audience soon obtained A cheer and a shout and applause for more A thousand people asking for gore A second victim brought to hang from a rope A trapdoor below makes a fine slope A lever is pulled and the man falls below A neck that is snapped so the vertebrae show A time for execution not over just yet A thief is to die for not paying his debt A large sharpened knife makes a gash towards his innards A suitable punishment for all crafty sinners A cord that is fastened to intestines A hole the knife made sowed up with stitches and pins A rope to tie up the thieve's hands and feet A seperate end of cord attached to equine feet A shout at the horse as it trots away A mass of organs ripped out with pleasant display A horde of people clap and cheer A blood-stained stage rolled away, not easy to steer A time for executions has come and gone A criminals legend smeared on a stage, not in a song A finish for all things as death is brought swift A time not to live on in Death's infinite rift

Cyndy snapped to her feet with what is the equivalent of a large hopeful-eyed smile. "Meeow! Pet me Yasuo! Pet me! You haven't done that in forever, except when you swing your sword at me... but that's the wind! You can worry about that annoying little fox later! Meow! Meow!" She paused a second, looking over at the kitsune, wondering what she was besides a human fox. Wasn't Yasuo and 'Ki' a pair of cousins? "Oh, um... teach me? You mean you don't know? Just tell me what you do when you turn into a wolf... you can do that, right?" She thinks for a second at how that could have lost her lessons and reconsiders what she is going to say next. "And even if you can't, you can find a way, like you explained when you were drunk! Please? Meow? I'll purr for you and look really fluffy and cute, or whatever else a cat can do to make people like it! Please...?" After a moment of begging about learning how to be a human, she realizes she has forgotten about the petting and quickly changes the subject. "Oh yeah! And pet me!"

(OOC: Mrowr? It does? Is a sig a signature?) Cyndy batted at the jerky clumsily, trying to find her footing in the hood of her wolf mentor. "Meow! Jerky!" she shrieked excitedly, latching on to Yasuo's hand, currently covered in a glove, and nibbling on the dried meat as it dangled between two fingers. "Drop it! Meow! Drop it!" (OOC: In a cute, and undemanding voice...) "Meow... my name is Cyndy. Were you drunk when you heard my name too. I suppose dropping a rock on your head to gety you to stop howling was a little much... mewo. I'm sorry. I'll fill you in briefly." She snaps down the last of the jerky after ripping it from Yasuo's hand, along with his glove and a small cut on his finger, "I feel better now! I'm sorry for yelling at you Yasuo. Um... I think we met in a bar when i tried to steal some of your fish while you were drinking a pint. You grabbed my tail and told me a lot about how to change animal forms and stuff. After that, I asked you to teach me, putting on my best cute little kitten face, and you just stared and blinked, but you agreed to teach me with a heavy scent of ale in your Irish breath. After I stole your fish, you also, drunkenly promised you'd take care of me! Meow! Even if you were drunk, you'll have to kill me before I let you break your promise! Meow!" After batting at one of the wolf's twitching ears, she leaped back into the hood upside down and waited to hear what her guradian and mentor had to say to that.

You know, this is a little odd. Damon thinks to himself, his voice booming off of the rampant sheet metal tha cuses his demise if he's not careful. I have been walking forever, and still I can't find the stage exit. Wait a minute! This is still what is considered a dream, right? With a quick thought, something that resembels a poorly drawn chalk rectangle is grafted into the balckness as the metal folds itself into an armada of swords. HHe struggles to scribble the words 'Stage Exit' into it, knowing that if he dies, the guillotine blade death will surely make someone throw up if they see it. The words re etched just in time for him to duck behind the door as a thousand swords clang into the watered down remnants of a chalk drawing. Well, that was close. Hey! Another thing! I'm back in the real world! ...um... He looks around noticin that he's still invisible to the people who inadvertantly killed him. I feel like I'm in one of those 'Gost of Christmas Past'. You know, I can see them, but they can't see me. Wait, I'm talking to myself... (OOC: Meow... this post was terrible, but I was getting sort of tired posting to myself... and other things... meow...)