Mira

Good to hear that you are doing well Sal, hope you can make your way back here when life slows down some.

I've know for a while that my current school load was not going to let me participate in NaNoWriMo to any real extent, though I would like to produce a couple good length short stories before the 30th.

While Gyrfalcon, Daryl and Knight had been attempting to locate Gryphon and Sweetcherrie, Mira encountered a bit of a problem. He wanted to help rescue the two lost guild leaders, he really did, but as soon as he closed his eyes and started to think about where they could be, his mind started to wander. How long had they been standing here like idiots trying to find out where their two lost companions where? Probably only a handful of seconds, though it seemed much longer. This whole business was looking more and more dangerous every moment, but more importantly, more and more boring. This place Knight's contraption had taken them was rather dull by his standards and from what he had seen so far there was little chance of finding adequate accommodations if this turned into an extended visit. What he would give for a mug good ale, a game of dice and song; any song. Maybe a barmaid or three to dance with if the song was particularly good. He could almost hear it now, it was a lively tune, ripe for dancing. The fiddle weaved its way around the flute and the laughing in a way that would bring life to even the oldest pair of legs. By the stars he could hear it! He opened first one eye, and then the other and was amazed to find himself standing in the middle of a crowded common room with the song and laughter and pounding of boots on the wooden floor filling his head. A pretty tavern maid appeared at his side with a tray full of mugs from which he quickly snagged one, and just as quickly forgot all about his lost friends.

A sweet little gem Arwen, beautiful in its simplicity and elegance. If I was Drummondo I would be beyond flattered.

Thanks for the comments guys (and gal). The feedback is always appreciated.

The Soldier Remains the Same the bands play a marching tune and the flags fly in the breezes the anthems cut through the air and every breath freezes even though the notes often differ and its called by a different name regardless of the song the soldier remains the same the tools of death grow larger and more powerful every year the battle evolves to combat the current fear and though the land that is fought over to which the nations lay claim is scarred beyond recollection the soldier remains the same he's young and he's old he's meak and he's bold he fights for a cause; more precious than gold and holds his head high even when lamed war 's ever changing but the soldier remains the same I'm blaming Peredhil for this one, since his talk of retirement from the Military sort of inspired me. The whole poem is his if he'll take it.

"No child left behind" An American saying meaning a failed plan or horribly designed multi-billion dollar program. Similar to "No man left behind".

I can totally relate to the overall feeling of the poem. The feeling of being lost and loving it is one I cherish.

I like it; its a nice little gem. The first stanza is very powerful.

"Am I alright? Am I alright!? Do you think I'm bloody alright?" Mira screamed at Knight, and then to no one in particular, "I've just been thrown around like a leaf in a whirlwind and he asks if I'm alright. I half expected to see my stomach sitting in my lap when we had finally stopped and I worked up the courage to open my eyes." The occupants of the jump pod quickly unbuckled themselves and as Knight was studying the control panels intently trying to determine the extent of the damage, Mira unlocked the hatch and opened the door. A loud creak shattered the relative silence of the craft and it was immediately filled with a rather dreary, gray light. Slowly, Mira peered out of the hatchway and saw the ground below was covered in a thick carpet of fog. Up until this moment he had wanted nothing more than to get out of that pod and breath fresh air again, but that fog stopped him in his tracks. For all he knew there might not even be ground beneath the fog; he might just hop out and fall forever through that odious looking fog. Daryl coughed loudly behind Mira, and asked in a aggravated tone, “Are you getting out, or are you just going to block the way for the rest of us?” Returning to his senses, Mira made his way onto the plane's surface, and breathed a sigh of relief when his feet touched ground.

Can't see the AAA at the moment.

"Ugh going to smush you like bug, puny human" roared Ugh at Mira. He probably would have done just that, if Daryl hadn't been there to prevent it happening. "Now now Ugh, there's no need for violence," said the Werefox in an effort to reassure the huge creature, and then turning to Mira he said, "What did you do to enrage this *fine gentleman*?" "I didn't do nothin'." spat back Mira defensively, "This ugly brute must have just gotten bored and decided to pick a fight with me." Daryl shook his head and let out a small chuckle, he knew Mira well enough to trust his word, but he also knew him well enough to know what kind of trouble he got himself into. He was about to turn back towards Ugh to explain how the whole thing had been a misunderstanding when a large green fist connected with his temple and he collapsed to the ground. With Daryl out of the way, the Troll hurled himself at Mira with a mighty roar. Mira narrowly avoided a rather messy end by deftly jumping onto first a chair and then on top of the table he had been only a minute ago sitting at. Once Ugh was safely on the floor he said "I know its hard to believe, but I don't remember doing anything to anger this Troll. Unless he's a friend of..." he was cut short as Ugh violently grabbed two legs of the circular table and flipped Mira into the air. Mira hit the ground with a loud thud that knocked the wind out of him and filled his vision with black spots. The spots cleared up just in time for him to see the table coming down towards him and he rolled out of its path as it was pulverized into splinters against the floor. Before he could get up Ugh's rather large hand closed around his head and lifted him clear off the ground. Mira quickly found himself looking into a pair of rather beady, rather angry looking troll eyes. "Any last wordz before Ugh crushes your skull?" the beast growled. "Umm... uhhh..." stuttered Mira thinking desperately for something that might get him out of his current situation. But before he could come up with something useful, something else popped out of his mouth. "Your mother doesn't love you." The Troll's eyes narrowed and his face became even more twisted with emotion. And then suddenly to Mira's surprise, as well as the surprise of everyone else watching, Ugh began to cry. Bawl was a more correct word. He dropped Mira and fell to his knees bawling like a baby. "Ugh's Mother doesn't love Ugh." He sobbed between tears. "Ugh's Mother want Ugh to grow up and be big, strong, and mean, live under bridge and grind bones to make bread. But Ugh no want that. Ugh want to be traveling vacuum salesman. Live life on road. And then you give Ugh your tab? That too much for Ugh to take and he get mad. And when Ugh gets mad he gets angry. And when Ugh get angry Ugh smash.” “There there big fella” Mira said patting Ugh on the back. “No need to get all down, I'll take care of this, just had me your bills and it will all be taken care of.” He collected Ugh's, Wyvern's, and his own tab and limped over to the bar. “Barkeep!” he yelled and when he had gotten his attention, he beckoned him closer. “That kind gentleman over there,” he gestured to the still weepy Ugh, “has offered to pay for the damage suffered to your establishment, as well as these three tabs,” and before the Bartender had a chance to respond Mira was rushing out the door with the intention of locking himself behind the biggest and thickest door he could find.

"Throw it out." "What!?" said Knight, Gyrfalcon, and Daryl simultaneously, and then Knight asked "What do you mean, throw it out?" "I mean just that." Mira said with his characteristic slight grin. "Help from Wyvern is help we'd be better off without. Look, the T-Shirts are ugly, the Theme Song is lame, the Lemonaid is sour, the flashlight is dead, and the rubber band won't stretch. The only thing in the whole box that looks remotely interesting, but not particularly useful, is the Almost Dragonic Brand Party Twister/Studded Mace™, but thats for Anna anyway, so you might want to hold on to that to give to her if we happen to see her anytime in the future." The other three stood for a second contemplating Mira's words. They knew he was probably right, but none of them wanted to be rude and simply throw away Wyvern's "Help". Seeing this Mira spoke up once again. "Alright, we don't have to throw it away, but we're not taking it with us, exspecially to another plane of existance." At that Knight looked to Mira and said "Does that mean you're comming with us?" "Of course it does." Mira said matter of factly, "I've taken a liking to Sweet and Gryphon, and I'm not about to let them rot on some stinking plane that probably doesn't even offer basic accommodations. Besides, they've just gotten into their positions as AVV Guild Leaders and are doing a pretty good job at it. Replacing both of them at once would be more of a hassle then anyone around here would like to deal with at the moment. Now come on, lets see this vessle of yours." And with that Mira beconed for Knight to lead the way.

Mira had been sitting on a rock in one of The Pen's many courtyards when Sweetcherrie had sent out her telepathic plea for help. He had been basking in some of the last bright rays of summer, idly strumming a guitar, while contemplating the success of the Summer Carnival. Yes, it was a good day, and could only continue to get better he thought to himself smugly, and then Sweetcherrie's cry for help went out. Luckily for Mira, he had long ago lost his ability to sense such things as Telepathic, Transplaniar communications, and for several minutes was able to carry on in bliss ignorance. It wasn't long, however, before he was able to tell there was something wrong. He began to notice people moving around the hallways like they had purpose, not an altogether odd sight, but one that had a tendency to unsettle Mira at any rate. "Perhaps someone summoned up something a little bigger than their circle of binding could hold" he thought to himself, and then he saw it. Gyrfalcon came bursting out of his tower at a near run, dressed all in armor and armed to the teeth. Mira let out a groan, knowing that the Ranger probably wasn't off to enjoy the last days of summer by slaying a dragon or something far away from The Pen and his rather comfortable spot on the rock. Instantly he the guitar vanished from his hands and he jumped up and set off in the direction Gyrfalcon had been going.

Personality With a past as dark as Mira’s one would think he would be a dark brooding sort of person, however nothing could be further from the truth. Although he regrets his past he has found it better to not dwell on it, and instead live in the now. He has a quick sense of humor, and is fond of practical jokes and pranks. He also is also capable of being sarcastic and irony never ceases to amuse him. Despite his apparent light-heartedness, when the situation warrants he is calm and collected. In potentially volatile situations, he often tries to diffuse the problem, utilizing violence only as a last resort.

This isn't all completely accurate and will be edited when time permits. History On Old Terra, Mira was one of many terrible and powerful beings known as the Archmage. As a Archmage, he had the ability to call into being horrible creatures, lead unstoppable armies, and level whole cities by sheer will alone. He was also immortal. When his physical form was finally destroyed, usually by another Archmage, Mira's soul would return to Hell where he would wait for a time when he could return to Terra, and once again reign terror upon the land. This cycle continued for eons, through fire, brimstone, and Apocalypse. But the centuries began to weigh heavy on Mira's heart and he began to feel remorse for all the lives he had shattered and ended. Disgusted with what he had become, he searched through ancient tomes for some way to release himself from his now wretched existence. But time was running out. Rumors of a final Apocalypse, from which no Archmage would rise, were whispered in dark chambers and during secret meetings. Knowing that his time was short, Mira hastened his search, and it was not long before he found what he was looking for. A ritual that was capable of striping an Archmage of his powers, and his immortality. Without hesitation, Mira carried out the ceremony. He was finally free. By now the threat of Apocalypse loomed like a thunderhead over all the land, but Mira was oblivious. He had freed himself from his former life of chaos and destruction, but the sins of that life still stained his soul. He wandered the plane as a minstrel, traveling town to town, trading his songs for a meal and a bed. And at every town he stopped in he would discreetly provide aid to someone in need, weather it be by giving some extra coin to a family down on its luck, or by helping a widow with some heavy lifting, little by little he redeemed his soul. It was not long before Mira came upon a place that would change his life. On a day like any other, Mira was walking along some untended country road when he came upon a valley in which lye a mighty fortress. Knowing that wealthy lords in need of entertainment usually inhabited such fortresses, he approached the front gates. When he reached them, however, he was surprised at what he found. Inside the ornately carved gates was a fortress like none other. While most such structures were the residences of soldiers, mercenaries and knights, living in this one was authors, poets, and troubadours. He had stumbled on an organization that referred to itself as “The Pen is Mightier than the Sword”. Mira now spends his time both residing at The Pen, and traveling the countryside. One could make the assumption that he has a bad case of the wanderlust, since he finds it difficult to stay in one place for long, and that is probably true. Even though he could easily settle down at The Pen and write his poems in relative peace there, he can’t resist the appeal of traveling around, meeting new people, seeing new places, and trying new things.

Equipment There are a number of items that Mira commonly carries when he is traveling. The first is his staff, which is fashioned from a 6’ (1.82m) piece of metal that has so far proved indestructible. The staff is etched with a delicate vine pattern and narrows to a dull point at both ends. He also caries anywhere from three to eight daggers, which are carefully hidden on his person. (One in each boot top and up each sleeve, three sheathes sown into the inside of his coat, and one in a sheathe at the back of his neck) He can make these daggers appear and disappear into his hands with ease and is deadly accurate with them at short distances. Other then the weapons, Mira often carries a ragged guitar case. The condition of the guitar inside however, is a stunning contrast to the worn case. Since he no longer possess the ability to use magic with out the aid of such devices as rings, rods, and the like, he has found it useful to wear two rings that aid him in his day to day activities. The first is a Ring of Prestidigitation that he uses to do small tricks such as puffs of wind, flashes of light, and faint bits of music. His second ring is a ring of Summon Instrument. With this ring he can summon any type of instrument instantly. This instrument may be of any quality he wishes and is always in tune and playing condition.

Congratulations and all that jazz.

Mira showed up and ruined the Lawyer's instruction by completely blowing everyone away with his amazing rendition of...

Congratulations to Katzaniel on winning the Cloak of Dreams with a bid of 50 Geld.

Congratulations to Katzaniel who has purchased The Lost Statue of Vallorian Lake with a bid of 23 Geld.

Congratulations to Patrick Durham who has won the Trollgate Guide with a bid of 25 Geld!

Gratz!

While I enjoy you sharing the image the poem gave you with the number I regret to tell you that it is nothing of consequence. Simply that, instead of titleing many of my poems I just number them. Its much easier that way. As for the actually meaning of the poem, I might have to say that there really isn't an underlying message, just an underlying mood. I was struck with the opening and closeing line while I was walking down the road at about 2 A.M. and the whole poem was really just ment to convey what I saw, heard, and felt at the time. The last few lines that deal with trains and highways I suppose reflect a bit of wanderlust that dwells inside me. Finally the line "And I pass, as a shadow, down the road, thru the night." really reflects the mood of walking by the handful of houses without notice.

So far digging it. If I get a chance I'll PM you my thoughts later.