Damon Inferel

(OOC: Whee... somethin with technology! Forks, computers, indoor plumbing!!!! I haven't thought too much of my character yet, but lets' get the persona going shall we?) It wasn't at all uncommon for Ghalen to be doing absolutely nothing at this hour. He knew where he was going, the big planet in the distance, to re-unite with his comrades, but when you're floating through space there aren't a whole lot of options for entertainment. Ghalen yawned. "God... why are people so fascinate by this... space? There's nothing out here..." a small chunk of metal drifted by his windshield. "except for remnants of century-old shrapnel..." "Eh..." he punched a few buttons on his flashing console and a little monitor flickered on displaying a small space map. "Space map... How do you map something that's endless and empty? Let's see..." he pointed a slender finger at the map and zoomed in by touching the screen. "Yep... I should be there in about a day. I hope they're happy to see me, and I hope they've got something better than dried meat..." (OOC: Well, I float in space for the moment. That will give me some time to develop my character and to read the rest of the RP...)

Damon stopped and relaxed his fighting position. "Daemon... kin? You have a soul, do you not? How could it be that we are kin?" His body shuddered for a moment, his now silver hair wisping about from the fiery winds of the burning forest behind him, his coat following suit. He put his sword into the ground as though it were a cane and slumped on it. "I... don't trust you. But... I will... put down my arms... if you will. I... cannot fight now, and if we are truly kin... you won't strike me down." He commented, breathing heavily, his mind blocking out random curses and screams which were nothing compared to the pain his body felt. He grinned to the pile of ashes in front of him and craned his neck to see the other corpses. "Next time..." he laughed lightly, "Try one on one... I won't be taken down... as easily as this." With that, his arm lost it's strenght on his sword and he passed out. (OOC: sorry for the short post, but he did a lot of fighting and the pain caught up to him. Demons aren't invincible... regretfully. I just hope i played this out realistically enough... We need to heal, so if it's okay... we might want to cut the fighting for now. I love fighting, but...)

A decision's despairing, Two loves in one mind. A choice not made lightly, The feelings confined. The emotions and logic Hold their opinion, Though the heart loves another, That love's minion. An impossibility Brought into one's life. Why an additional love? Why bring on this strife? A small matter of the heart, Denial there's none, But the decision is made, there is only one. A repressable feeling, Alternative love. But not entirely ignored, Just a friendly shove. One may love two In the depths of mind, But true love comes so rarely, A difficult find. The one who is deeply loved As of past moments, Will be the only one loved, Past and future tense. Secrets pretold shall remain A harmless ordeal. The true love shared with the first, No other will steal. Declare the heart shall have one Now to forever. Bond between unbroken Through each endeavor.

Hey, don't worry about it. We're all patient people here. *pat pat*

I resolve to return to my weight of a maximum of 120. I resolve to continue my truthfullness to everyone, despite the fact it has done more harm than good lately. I resolve not to kill myself out of petty despair, nor overwhelming depression, or anything else. I resolve to maintain my faithfulness, even if my emotions state otherwise. I resolve to continue my pacifism. I resolve to use my full potential in my future career training. I resolve to learn as much as I can about myself and humanity until I am dead. I resolve to continue being a loyal meber to the Pen. I resolve to remember my friends, no matter how far or long it has been between us. I resolve to do fewer unnecessary things...

The holiday season, It gives us a reason, To give and to care. Giving and recieving, Whether or not we're believing We all enjoy to share Happiness and cheer Spread through this time of year Emotions we can all bear Children we are no matter our age Shrug off bad feelings and be freed from your cage It only comes once so this time you should snare Enjoy the holidays as they were meant for And remember all the good things the years had in store And spread your happiness because good things come in pair (I know, it didn't have too much flow to it, but merry christmas and such. Enjoy the holidays...)

Damon screamed at the voice in his head aloud. "How am I supposed to kill whatever is using the magic?! I barely have control of my own body, let alone everyone keeps screaming in my head!" The skeletons rambled forward towards the wight, who was grinning at them maliciously, with no response from the machine-like undead, a blue-white light surrounding the dark creature with unoly protection. The wight drew a large sword, as well as a smaller mace to fwnd off his opponents. Damon was struggling with himself at the moment, his sword barely being held in his hand as he quivered in the air, trying not to break down into either insanity or his former self. He caught a glimpse of his own consciousness and his mind was freed from outside thoughts for a moment. He used this to his instant advantage because there was no certainty as to how long it would last. He flickered out of the material plane for an instant, holding his petrified ivory sword over his head in the midst of his interplanar travel and came behind the wight. He pushed all of his strength into the sword, humming an enchantment spell in the same instant to better his sword's pwer, and brought it vertically through the wight's tattered body. The soft flesh was easily ripped through, as brittle bones snapped and grey chunks of what was once skin shredded into ribbons opposite each other. There were now two halves of a wight lying on the ground, and he felt the voices in his head stop. His body was beaten very badly, but he had regained control by killing the wight, and the roc Adglomero was tending to suddenly regained some color to it's skin. But Damon didn't get much chance to rest as a bony fist plunged into his jaw and sent him reeling, only to land into a group of three other skeletons who clumsily pounded on his body. These creatures weren't discerning friend from foe. Damon wasn't prepared for skeletons, and his sword clattered harmlessly off of their aged armor, and barely making them wonce when it did hit their stronger-than-normal skeletal structure. He wasn't going to run from a fight though, but he had to recoup, and at least change his appearance. He looked awful, and that wasn't something an incubus was going to put up with for too long. He teleported again, but this time onto a stable tree branch. His wings were going to be of no use to him in their current condition. He almost allowed a tear to fall as his wings fell back into him, as it was one more pain adding onto a sea of others. He was a duelist, not a warrior, so his performance, he thought, thus far was admirable. He could afford to allow that one tear. One on one, he would nmever be in this kind of shape... His face distorted itself, as was the rest of him, including his clothing as he altered his form. The pain from the scars would be there, but new flesh would cover them. His eyes flickered different colors and he settled on a soft grey, his hair doing the same thing, and he decided he would take the half-dragon's hair color: silver. There wasn't much he could do with his clothes, since they were not part of him, but he used a mending spell to repair the changes and altered his trench coat from crimson to black. Otherwise, he stayed the same. He just couldn't stay so 'war-torn' for that long... He crakced his neck and drew his sword once again and leapt into the fray to find the necromancer. (OOC: Good thing... the wight's dead! I'm sorry to have killed him so soon, but we have a new threat apparently, and if I can't 'control my character' so to speak because i'm being undead, I can't do much. I should apologize for killing so many things... I'm not a glory hound or whatever, just... opponents only stay alive for so long, and ther'es always the next fight. Eventually, we'll have to leave the forest, you know? Just trying to progress the story, not play DM... sorry if I give that impression...)

Damon's mind, now filled with the wight's curses and suggestions, and the other panicking voice trying to help him clouded his thoughts and made him grip his head in mental agony. "SHUT UP!!!!" he yelled aloud at his head, not trying to insult the helpful voice, but he couldn't fight with all of those words. Sadly, the words didn't cease though, especially the wight's. The incubus drew his sword frantically and pointed it at his head. In his panic, he was going to try to kill himself to stop the noise, but he dropped his hands with a glimmer of realization. He didn't need his harp for this spell, so he began to shout loud, unintelligible spell components, trying to have his own voice drown out the noise in his mind. His hand's flickered around symbolically and several portals began to open up around him. He hated to rely on these, but they were his only chance. From the swirling nothingness he created in the air, several bats flew out of it, slightly larger than normal bats and more ferocious. From the portals on the ground, he summoned wolves of the same caliber, large fangs and glimmering drool fell from their maws. To the bats, he directed an attack command at the griffon, who flew at the undead creature, batting around it and sinking their teeth into the rotting flesh, pulling it's remaining eye out and swiping at it with small claws. The wolves he directed at the wight, who was still hunched on the ground. The pack let out a low growl and then began to bark furiously as they leapt towards the creature, tackling it and crushing bones with their powerful jaws. the wight would be dead soon enough, but the griffon... Damon let out a loud shriek and joined the flurry of bats, his large wings in utter similarity with the dire rodents. He hoisted his sword above the creature's neck as it was thrashing, trying to shake the bats, and brought the blade down. there was a sound of tearing flesh, a small snap of the neck's vertebrae, and the sword exited, the head falling to the ground. The griffon let out one more flail before it began to fall as well. It was dead, but there was a loud yelp from below. The wolves surrounding the undead wight began to dance around strangely, dodging something. Spiked chains animated themselves all around the wight's body, thrashing and tangling the wolves up. Limbs began to fly shortly after, and each one of the hounds fell dead one by one, or even two at a time. One of the hollowed sockets of the wight looked up emptily at Damon and then at the render, and then at the rest of everything else. It grinned, seemingly in perfect health again. (OOC: Well, the wight's not dead yet... I had to kil the griffon off though so Adglomero could attend to her 'slowly-becoming-a-servant-of-the-wight' roc. when i made the D&D sheet for my character, i gave him summon spells, so he can summon, just in case you were wondering. Ummm... It seems like the render's dead, but I don't know about Kordrak, the poor decapitated guardian. whether the other's show up or not, we'll have to end this fight a little sooner though. I really don't want to be a wight-demon, and we don't have clerics who can heal that sort of thing, so we have to kill the wight. Um... If need be, I can always come up with another fight, of equal or greater caliber than this one. What do you all think?)

(OOC: Well, there's two. I don't tink this one will be quite as succesful as the revenge one, but let's give it a shot, all right? I'll start with a basic outline as far as setting. Um... Perhaps we'll modernize this one a bit, perhaps?) Place: The small, but prosperous town of Nicalnes. Population (378) Season: Autumn Time: I'm thinking a little Final Fantasy here, so we have technology, but magic and swords are quite abundant. (Convenience of indoor plumbing.) Plot: (Hard stuff...) There has been something of an investigation as of late, a rumor going around the tabloids and the newspapers in equal degrees telling of a town left in ruins, each citizen murdered without just cause and only for the sick pleasure of a militaristic dictator. While the dictator himself was overthrown by assassination, the army continues to move on, preaching revenge and anarchy, continuing the ideals of their leader. They are currently at war with the military, and the outcome looks good for the military. the morale is down, and there are those surrendering and betraying the anarchists left and right. however, the city of Aniel, a once prosperous metropolis lies in ruins now, a bone-chilling cold wind wafts about the city streets in a perpetual cycle, and various moans can be heard near the trade routes that once crossed through the city. several people have given in to their curiousity and wandered into the desolate metroplos, only to be found left outside of the city on the opposite of their entrance, pale, decaying, and often dismembered. Those heads which were intact left marks of horror on their faces. there is a debate as to whether a very large army of bandits haveinhabited the area, spooking the travelers andfrightening them to death, and those who are not swayed are dismembered. however, there is a rumor that each of the city's citizens, or their ghosts rather, now seek revenge on the living because of their wrongful deaht. Evidence of this is that no plants will grow around or within the city anymore, animals flee in terror if the near it, and the people... Well, the pictures say it all. As most investigators are frightened by this monstrous place, they seek bold people to give them a proper hold of the situation, especially those of faith. (OOC: I hope this is a good basis. i'll have to change my character a little bit though. Perhaps someone of recent importance, much as the assassin that brought down the self-proclaimed dictator. A sniper, perhaps... I'll develop him as we go along... Is that all right? If not, just let me know.)

(OOC: wow... where is everybody? *cricket noises* Well, I'll make this battle last as long as I have to. {Note: not rushing anybody, I know how life is... just commenting. If I should have kept my mouth shut, just let me know...}) Damon looked at the wound on his arm, knowing that wrapping it wouldn't stop the infection. It was then that all of his other scratches and lacerations began to throb and sting. His adrenaline was low and he was getting fatigued. "I'm practically dead already..." he muttered before giving a loud cry and punching the oncoming griffon in its face. He could taste the blood behind his teeth, and the still foul flavor of the aven zombie danced crudely on his tastebuds. "If a paladin wasn't so righteous and against evil, he might be useful about now..." he said, coughing afterwards, a small chunk of flesh lunging out of his throat. The reeling beast came at him again, the elven princess still stabbing away with unerring grace. Her aim was good, but she was still stabbing. The wight had to be in immense pain because of her blows, but the griffon wasn't feeling much of anything anymore. The incubus' hand began to itch slightly and he looked at it. It was starting to turn grey. "Not what I need right now." A voice, an unfamiliar one, began to edge its way into his mind. *Kill them* it said, sounding like someone was choking om their tongue. They probably were... "How cliche!" Damon yelled, escaping from his current fight and racing above the trees to spot the wight. The voice was getting more suggestive now. Damon needed soe serious healing. It was not more than ten seconds before he spotted a hunched figure in tattered garments in the trees, a soft orange light glowing from his hands as various symbols left traces in the air. It looked like it wasn't paying attention, so Damon took his opportunity. He drew his sword, and vanished into the air... coming up behind the figure. He plunged his ivory blade into the grey flesh, and the symbols disappeared. apparently the wight had been concentrating on ignoringthe pain he was recieving because it collapsed in front of Damon, retching bile up in painful bursts. The thing slid off of the blade and knelt down, wiry, oily hair covering his face. "Take this curse off of me you freakish thing." Damon said loudly, trying to restrain his use of the Dark Speech. The wight looked up at him and spat on the crimson coat Damon was wearing. "You'd have to kill me." it hissed at the incubus, "and since I have enough control over you now, you can't do it." Damon blinked as he sheathed his sword and drew his harp out. The wight was too weak to move, so Damon could play all he wanted, but that wasn't his intention. His claws clicked fiercly at the strings of the harp, sending small sparks from the metallic tunes. The sparks increased in size slowly and enough of them landed on some dried leaves near him, which instantly caught fire. He found enough will in his mto teleoprt again, back to the sky, trying to ignore the steady flow of suggestion in his mind. If he couldn't kill him, the fire would, even if it destroyed the forest in the process. (OOC: Um... right. I'm evil, so i can get away with it, and it shuld make this fight a little more interesting. The fire, i mean.)

Damon leapt up from his keyboard in the rented room, looking at his bland profile of his makeshift character and sighed. It was only after he decided to go to the bar to take down a few drinks because of the arthritis he was prviding himself with, cracking his fingers over and over again, that Solivagus came into the room. "whatcha doin'?" he asked innocently, intent on typing once more. His eyes widened as he saw the sign being hung on the door. "No, wait!" he cried, allowing the gold piece to clatter to the floor, hoping that wasn't insulting the offer of wealth. "we can still fix this thing! just give me two days, and I'll see what I can do for you! please?" (I need two days because the library is closed tomorrow, otherwise i'd ask for one... is that okay?)

Ummm... this is kind of freaky. Most tests are pretty fun, and I rather enjoy taking them. (I just don't clutter my journal with them...) I stumbled upon this site, and it's pretty accurate if you answer truthfully. you don't even have to be a member of the site either, and they have neutral answers... something i rarely see... Oh, right, the site... Similar minds...

This, i think, was an interesting piece, especially the ending. It leaves enough room for a few different endings, and I thought it was a nice touch. A very suspenseful story towards the end, I believe, though the beginning of the plot was something i've heard ina few plays before. The concept of a traitor amongst friends is not exactly new, but you still pieced together a fairly easy read, and rather well-composed story. The only part that confused me was this sentence... I didn't get it, and i kind of bothered me through the rest of the story, but the rest of the whoel thing was, as usual, done well. The characters were realistic enough to have their own lives and feelings, not a collective Borg snese of mind, and it didn't just jump around from action event to action event. There was that break in the middle when the two were sleeping. (speaking of which, I'm tired...) Merf... i'm not too good at writing reviews, but I still think this is a good story, execpt for that one line. fiction's a hard busines to get into, but i think you'll do good.

you know, if such a flaw exists in Death's contract, so to speak, this sounds a hell of a lot like something I would do if you were dying. I doubt it'd make you happy, but at least you'd collect a hell of a lot of life insurance, and it's most noble for a person to give their life for someone else. I'm so old-fashioned *sweatdrops* Anyhow, I wasn't certain that you were still into the whole playwriting thing, but I see you haven't lost your touch. Very angsty, as usual, but that's what I like about your writing. It's very emotional. I don't see how a person would let another person throw them to the ground by their hair though, especially if it results in the effects of trichotillomania. Basically, hair pulling resultsa in lostt of hair, especially if you're throwing something, but... it'd be an interesting touch. I found it a tad awkward how Ariel, or Death, expressed some form of emotion, especially the shock of seeing someone throw their life away for another. In my mind, deaht is neutral, but this deviates from the mundane, scythe-wielding, skull-faced, black-claoked figment we've all heard about. As unorthodox as it is, it is a nice touch. Perhaps Meister Schmidt would let it be produced. I'd love to see it in action. Good work ashke!

Hn... Something I have to wonder if I can relate to or not, especially in the aspect of caring. I suppose I'm not the onl one out there with apathy problems, and in a way, that is a very comforting thought to me. I suppose that life isn't the most joyous aspect of existence, what with hardhsips and responsibilites and all, and somehow it all seems futile if you look at the end result. We live our lives and then die, hopefully making an inpact in the rest of the world, but norst likely, we do not. So few people are remembered, but that has nothingto do with anything. I just have a tendency to digress... As you say about Cioden, a parallel release to your problems and expressions in reality. I have something of that sort too, a personaility born of my own imagination, a person who is like me in several ways, but has his differences. We are actually two different people now, which may confuse those who are not familiar with MPD (Multiple Personality Disorder). Ogten, I find myself sick of his existence, and I often despise writing his name, but I've have gotten to the point where I cannot deny that he exists and how he affect me life. In a sense, he is everything I refuse to be in the sense of emotions, assertiveness, stuff like that. He is the side of me that will do things I would never dream of doing, such as confrontational speaking, interrupting others when they have interrupted me, but as opposite as he is, him and I share a fair deal in common. I detest some of the things that I think about him and he detests most of which I do. (I've kind of confused myself...) I guess the point of explaining that was be careful about how much you hide and then pour into something fictional, as your fictional incarnation of emotions and the like may eventually manifest itself in you, and depending upon which emotions you 'fed' it, depends on the effect it may have on your psyche. Just be careful. My other half is okay now, but he started out terribly evil... Oftentimes I have told myself that I need nobody as well, which I still firmly believe and I remind myself every day. I prefer to maintain my independence, doing things on my own so as to not disappoint anyone. I have told myself that so many times that i believe it, but if it were true, then I ould not have my doubts about it. Otheriwe, I would not care for anything, I would not care for my friends or my girlfriend, claimig that I would do all right on my own, claiming I do not need anyone. Independence is a wonderful thing, and should you attach yourself to another thing or person, you might develop an unhealthy dependence upon them, much as I have done in the sense of my emotions. however, complete independence is also unhealthy for a person, as those around them that they secretly care about may take it to be something of a rude gesture and thus relenquish their care for you, whether secret or open. (If this doesn't make any sense, just ignore it... in my head, I'm actually full of eloquent speech, but often that's not the case in reality...) There are some things about hatred that I do not understand, I guess. You say that you do not hate this person, but rather you feel sorrow for the bad times that have happened. Fights, disagreements, or whatever. However, the hatred feeling feels right in your mind, giving you, perhaps, a sense of comfort that puts a great expression on the fact you do not care for this person, you do not need this person, it is a way of feeling contentment that you don't need something, no matter how much you might actually. I can't say if you do or not, but hey, general speech here. Hatred is an escape for a lot of things, and often is a misused word, especially because later on in life you may find out that you can, indeed, tolerate what you hate. For example. "I hate sushi." ten years later. "Hey, it's not that bad." hatred changes, and thus is cna be misused. Perhaps this hatred is simply a temporary disliking for something that you do not want to accept comfort from. I can't offer any really sound advice though because I will hate something that even moderately annoys me. I hate almost everything, and thus far whatever I hate, I haven't changed it. Like cars. I hate cars and always will because they are not economicla, they are noisy, they get stuck in traffic, they kill people... I have reasons. In order to put a mark of hatred on something, you have to figure out why you hate it. Try to put reasoning behind your hatred so you can determine whether or not you actually do hate it or not. (Geez, I sound like I'm lecturing you... If I sound like a psychiatrist, shoot me. I'll give you my address and everything.) Um... I guess that's it as far as commentary. haven't read any poems yet, but I'll get around to it... Note: The best gift I ever got was a 20oz Dew from my girlfriend. It even had a buy one get one free cap. It was for my birthday. cheap, but just what I wanted, and so easy to get at the last minute. >< cherish whatever you get, especially if it's from someone you care about. It'll bring happy memories. (God, my brain is so confused... emotions should make up their mind, huh?)

Damon continued his tussle with the griffon, watching every now and then the render below and his fight with Kordrak and the others. the blue falmes engulfed the tree that the render way wielding, but the massive oak had been tossed aside before any damage was done to the creature. The render was now unarmed, but his six eyes looked about frantically for an opening. As Kordrak raised his wsword, the render headbutted his armor with his toughened skull, doing no real damage to the guardian, but sending him through a few trees. He picked up two large branches from another tree, but these branches began to glow briefly, and Damon caught the light. "More magic?" he muttered, ignoring the griffon and Adglomero in the background. The render's branches were splintered at the ends, but the pointed edges turned a dull grey hue, as well as the rest of the tree. "Ironwood... those trees are going to be nearly as powerful as my sword now..." he blinked. "Hey!" he shouted below, not realizing the griffon behind him had given up trying to throw Adglomero off of it's back. If it was going down, it would try to take a certain demon with it. "The trees! They're like swords now, the fire won't bur--!!" he yelped as a beak snapped into his arm, followed by a mangled talon gripping his face. There were claws digging into Damon's skull. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the elf princess stabbing away into the thing's head, trying to put a sword in it's brain. She didn't know a whole lot about undead, it seemed. Damon pried the claws off of his face with great effort, crimson and ebony blood flowing down his hair from the two holes in his skull. "You..." he coughed, spurting up a little more blood from his throat. "You have to cut off it's head!" The incubus grabbed his head and felt his hand grow very warm with blood. If he let it continue, he would die. Immortal as a demon is, they can still bleed to death. He ripped off a piece of his trench coat and wrapped it around the top of his head tightly and flashed his sword out to cut off the griffon's foot. He succeeded, and the giant beast was even more crippled than before, but it kept fighting with unrelenting tenacity. Damon teleported out of the situation, bringing the bird and the elf with him. The beak was still in his arm. "Dammit!" he yelled, biting into the bird's face, ignoring the foul taste of carrion in his mouth. The bird released and Damon tried to teleport again. He approached Heimalis, who was fighting the wight's infection as best it could. If the bird was going to live, the wight would have to go, and judging by the recent use of magic, the wight was hiding nearby. He chanted to himself and sent out a suggestion spell to whoever was not currently engaged in furious combat. "There's a wight around here. Find it!" he said with magic pouring out of his speech. He chimed his healing spell once more to close the roc's wound to rpevent further infection, but whoever the voice was, his magic and the demon's healing wouldn't keep the bird among the living for too mcuhc longer. And then... they would have one more thing to fight, possibly two if Damon didn't find a cure for himself as well. (OOC: i made up the wight for the 'presently inactive' fighters to seek out. That way, when Silver and them get around to posting, not everything is dead. Hopefully I can think of a cure for my character though... I hadn't thought of that. Demons aren't immune to diseases or anything. That sucks...)

(OOC: A lengthy monologue... I hope that's okay.) The bard stops as the sword is pointed at him and he raises his hands in surrender. Despite the fact he might have his head cut off, or worse, he grins at his potential executioner anyway. "Well, perhaps if you would enlighten me to this purpose, maybe we could help you achieve it. And then, just maybe, we could get on with our lives and I might see you crack a smile once in a while. As pointless as emotions are, they're still interesting in the least. Hell, look at me. I don't remember a damn thing about before, and i'm as happy as a clam." he comments, following the fuming elf. "I don't know what happened to you before except for some people dying, and as sorry as I am for that, I can't do anything to bring them back. You can't do anything to bring them back. Death is inevitable, one way or another. If it takes killing the guy who killed them to make you smile, even sadistically, i'll do it. "Emotions, yes, I could say they make a person weak, and that dreams don't really have meotions behind them. that's true, I guess, but dreams influence emotions. When you wake up from a terrible nightmare, isn't your pulse racing and you are afraid to go back to sleep? If you have a good dream, aren't you upset that the dream is gone and you want to fall back to sleep? Dreams are neutral, but your mind isn't. In all honesty, I percieve you as a good dream, and I would be damn pissed off if I woke up from it. I don't care how cold you are to me, I'm not going to leave you, and I will never extend the same coldness back at you. You seem to me that you've got a hell of a lot on your mind, and a past that would pretty much put mine to shame. you know, i wouldn't mind knownig about some things too you know? I'd like to help you do whatever it is that you've got to do, but I, no we, as in the rest of your 'employees', can't help you unless we know what it is. "I don't know anthing about anything except my music and my frequently faltering grace. I don't really understand emotions or what not, I just do what I have to do to live. You're kind of a break from that monotony I've been going through for several years now. It's something to care about besides myself and what little memory I have. Somehow, I don't know how to explain it very well, I feel like i know you, or you know something about me or my past. But, I don't care about my past that much since I have your company in the present. The past is done and over with and I can't change it, and remembering might not do me any good. So, I'd like to make hte best of my new life and help you achieve your purpose... even if it is to die, which i suspect it might be. your attitude suggests you've given up on life, but if you're going to die, then live while you can. Enjoy life and die without regrets, knowing you've lived your life to the fullest. Don't be so gloomy, you know?" (OOC: Monologues are long...)

(OOC: Sorry about that. I didn't really know. guess that's what i get for assuming things, huh? All i know about the Abyss is what i learned from the book of Vile darkness and other stuff. I know a lot about demons, but i've never really heard of a guardian before.) Damon paused as the thought flashed through his head, and paused again as the render exploded. "Hn. Easy kill for that guy I guess... I thought it might present more of a challenge..." He turned to Adglomero and Heimelis and the fight it seemed they were losing. "Need some help?" he called out, drawing his harp as he flew by. He plucked a few chords and hummed a tune loud enough for the bird and the elf to hear it. If it worked, it would boost their moral a little and they might fight a little better. Continuing his tune, he put away his harp and unsheathed his sword. As he flew by the elf and her roc, he stabbed the griffon in the eye, allowng a shriek to escape from it's partially missing throat. It sounded like someone was gargling bile. The griffon turned to face Damon who simply continued to hum his tune. Poking the creature's eye out hadn't done anything, since it didn't need it's eyes, but it had hurt whatever had createdthe creature. the eye had been human in an aven beast, so this creature was tied to it's creator. This thing had been created by a wight, which meant... The incubus stopped his tune and shouted at Adglomero. "You have to get rid of the disease your roc has. if you don't, it'll turn against you and become one of them." he pointed at the griffon's mindless state. The decaying creature slammed into him and began raking his claws around the demon's body. Damon chimed something to himself and some of his wounds closed up ashe thrust a sword into the creature's skull. It was a shame he wasn't religious... this thing wasn't going to die without magic, and all he knew were charms and healing spells. "Wait a mi--!" he cried as feathers clogged his fanged mouth. He spat them out and began chiming the healing spell again, but this time at the bird. The griffon warbled a horrific noise and backed off of the demon, fluttering around even more erratic than it had been before. MEANWHILE: the render was having a time with the remainder of the party. A large semi-circle of cleared trees littered the area where the uprooted one had been swung. (OOC: Try not to kill 'em too quick, ok? silver and them still got to do their part.)

(OOC: wait for me! I gotta start a little bit back though.) damon blinked as Silver stated the ovious fact that not just oe person had attacked the village. "Whoever this guy is, I'm sure he had servants of some kind. I can summon creatures, that actually obey me, quite easily. If this person can do the same, he might very well have his own little army to do his dirty work for him. He just sets tings up so his army has the morale to finish the job. I'm sure monsters didn't throw that village into chaos by themselves, let alone topple some houses..." He looked over at Kordrak, the familiar emptiness in the guardians eyes made him shudder. to think, I was doing his job not too long ago. he thought, remembering eight or nine centuries past. He wasn't too proud of his age, now that he thought about it. Kordrak returned an empty look, and the guardian's eyes narrowed. "you know, I can read your mind too." he said monotonously. "Yeah, but it doesn't matter. I'll walk with you for a little while." he said, watching Silver take off after her little speech. "so full of business that woman is." The voice fluttered through his mind, commenting on Kordrak. he knew Kordrak had hear it too, since Damon had to repeat the words in his own head, but he wasn't too concerned. He was a powerful guardian, but he doubted the demon could beat the incubus by himself. *Hn. Yeah, I was like that once too. He's not as old as i am, so maybe he's not fed up with servitude quite yet. He'll come around and realize it's all pointless.* he answered back, using a spell to send the message so Kordrak couldn't hear it. *** The time had passed, and they were setting up camp... to avoid monotony, some hours pass and the sun sets. casual conversation happened during that time... *** almost the entire part flitted their eyes open from sleep or whatever trance they had put themselvesi n when there was the rustling of some leaves around them. Damon shook his head. He knew he was incapable of sleeping, but he had zoned out for a while in his thoughts. "Too late for squirrels." he said, drawing his sword. A small goblin popped through the underbrush surrounding the camp. He was bleeding from a severe head wound, and a lot of crossbow bolts were stuck in his back. He muttered a lot of labored words to the demon who had approched him and collapsed. "Hey." Damon said aloud, trying to snap everyone else out completely of whatever sleep they were coming out of. "We've got company, and it's nt as simple as this thing." he commented, pointing a clawed finger at the goblin. There was a loud rumbling sound all around the party, but there was nothing to be seen, and no footsteps could be heard either. The ground wasn't shaking either, so nothing was beneath them as far as it could be told. whatever was coming upon them was magically enhanced so they couldn't be detected. damon looked out at the party, but they all suddenly shifted to the left fery quickly, and he felt a pain in his ribs. The party moved back into place as his spine was walloped as well, his sword flying out of his hand. Damon coughed, blood spilling out of his mouth along with one of his teeth. "Still... here." he teleprted into the treetops above him and looked down. Whatever had attacked them had now dropped two giant branches, which became visible once more, and the trees Damon had slammed into were uprooted violently. he felt cometing brush the bottiom of his foot. It was too big to be an ogre, or was it? damon was standing on the thing's head. He muttered a spell so as to see what was going on, to see the invisible, but was interrupted by a pair of claws raking through his back, lifting him into the air. This, he could see. It was a massive griffon, barely smaller than what was attacking the party below him. He teleported out of the bird's grasp and completed his spell as he started falling to the ground. No, thse were not Ogres, but they certainly had some magic behin them. these were renders, massive beasts, abnormal in thier size though. They were bigger, and the invisibility wasn't their own. the tree trunks had vanished into the air, but Damon could still see them now. The hunched figures lifted the trees above their heads and snapped off the canopy with their bare hands, giving them a very, very large weapon. The canopy hit the ground with a loud rumble, causing birds from everywhere to scatter, and became visible. (OOC: This all happened in like... twenty seconds. fights are faster than they are described as... We get to fight mutated grey renders!!! Yay!, as well as an oversized, undead, griffon!!! Yay! This, should be a fight. See the 3rd edition monster manual for details... even thougb it's not on hand with me right now) OOC: Oops... sorry. I forgot about suggestions... *winces* please don't hurt me. Is this okay?

(OOC: EEk... double posted, sorry!)

Um... Yeah. A simple question indeed, but one that has provoked a lot of thought from the people here at the Pen. Bravo with your thought-provokingness. My favorite color has recently changed. As anybody who had asked me before knows, my favorite colors were in this order. 1. Black 2. white. 3. Orange 4. Pink however, recent thoughts and such that have arisine and further developed both sides of my personality would suggest that i am only particularly fond of black and white. Perhaps that is because thoe are the rwo colors, shades actually, that imitate cold logic. documents and such are black and white, and they are generically neutral, but not as much as grey. They are opposite to each other, I guess, white most often symbolising life and light and happiness and the start of a new day. Black symbolising death, shadows, hatred, emptiness, the coming of night. One color for both f my worlds, I guess. (I think I'm developing some really early arthritis... my hand hurts and i've barely typed anything...)

As the roc and the small dragon took to the skies, Damon followed suit after ripping his coat once again to spread his wings out. He was not too far behind Adglomero when he saw her heaving food into a bucket by means of vomiting. "Well, that's something I've never done..." he said, looking at the waste that was splattered about the bottom of the bucket, landing behind the lurching elf. He looked up to see what she had been so nauseated by and shook his head. "If you're going to kill people, you don't leave them like that." he muttered, flickering by means of teleportation between crucified bodies and pulling the off of the stakes instead of the stakes out of the bodies. Whatever blood hadn't coagulated spilled onto the ground, adding a more fresh touch to the carnage, as each of the twenty or so previously crucified victims lay beneath their makeshit crosses. Damon set to work taking the impaled heads off of the poles. "This was made to look like hobgoblins did this." he said to Adglomero as she was wiping the excess bile from her mouth. "It's brutish. I've seen much, much worse, but nonetheless. The only mistake he made was crucifying some of these people. Things that barbaric don't have the organization of thoughts to do something like that. Also, these people died slowly, or the looks of horror wouldn't be on their faces." He returned to the party by flying, trying to see if there was any clues as to who it really was. He stopped a moment after his flight, and looked at somethign on the ground. Two indentations, but only two. They were human footprints. "Of course," Damon said to nothing. "His shoes would have worn out by now, and since he can use magic, this must have been where he stood to cast the spell to throw the houses around. Everything else was done by him and perhaps a small band of followers. This was done too quickly to have been done by one person." He vanished and reappeared behind the party once again to report his findings not found in the village.

And so Mr. Solivagus, as I think that's how your name is spelled. You have your first adventurer if you'll have me. I'll try to move my character somewhere else for a change and make someone new. Hn... level 6 eh? Well, I think I can do that. A thief I shall be, as opposed to my frequenting of the bard. A level 6 thief, one who specializes in pick-pocketing and... assassinating. I'm so gloomy. >< Personality... I don't know yet, but I'm sure I'll develop one soon enough. Looks... Well, I'll be way off course from my usual self and go with... um... elf midget. I'm a halfling-sized elf. (this will all be more detailed alter, I assure you, but let's just stick to the basics) Name... Norton Glow-wind (More of a halfling name, but lets also say that this particular elf was raised among halflings...) Weapons... He's got a rapier and three throwing knives, and one dagger and a small crossbow, as well as... elven boots with a knife hidden in the sole. He'll be a bit of an engineer. I hope that's okay for a start, let me know if I can join your beginning DM crew as a pwan in your grand scheme.

Hn... When I read this, I pondered first on how descriptive it was, but as you were confused (as you said anyway), I didn't get it a whole lot. I think some guy was having bad nightmares, and the narrator was watching him. I don't really know. If I was there, maybe I would know, but... *pouts* I don't have school anymore. It was quite good though. If you do write anything else, I look forward to it.

Damon glanced at the new warrior, Kordrak, as he had introduced himself. "So, you have my old job. Interesting how they would want to keep an eye on this little band. i'm guessing that the person who killed Silver's father and such is a little more important than i had first thought." Boy, do i know how to screw up an estimate of the importance of something. He thought, shaking his head. He turned to the rest of the group. "Well, if this guy came from the Abyss, I'm not doubting that that is where Heinrich went. I'd go and get him, but I can't plane shift anymore. You know, being banished and all." (OOC: Sorry for el crappo postage stamps on this particular newsletter, but the time draws nigh for my brain to shut down and completely forget where my cornflakes went. Actually, I just don't know what to say...)