Tamaranis

Err yeah, spoilers in this post... . . . Seriously though, I'd rather have seen the destruction of Zion then watch Neo beat up those programmed thugs... We all knew he was going to crush them, what was the point of that battle? It wasn't even that spectacular... I don't know if I got used to it or something, but the fights in the first movie were more impressive to me. I really think Neo should have made shorter work of those three agents at the start of the movie than he did, and his unbelievable invincibleness could have been established right there. For the rest of the movie it wouldn't have been neccessary to have him needlessly doing impossible things.

Apparently Because I cheated, I'm not supposed to say the answer, so hopefully no one saw it. The Clue, ie the cheating, to Katzaniel's entry is "The number of people present is important." Oh, and Nobody of Consequence: Brevity is the key to communication?

The kitsune’s introduction as Elwen gave Tamaranis pause. He allowed her to play the ballad for a moment, without speaking, then bowed again before continuing, “I hadn’t realized I was in the company of the infamous kitsue Elwen herself.” He said, no trace of sarcasm in his voice. “I should thank you, the death of the demon Atchion has been attributed to you, it had been quite a thorn in my side up until its demise.” Tamaranis wasn’t sure if the kitsune’s seeming softness was genuine or some sort of act. Without ever having specifically searched the spirit world for her, or doing any research, Tamaranis was familiar with her reputation. Not only living rulers, but demons and spirits as well, had often became sidetracked during Tamaranis’ dealings with them. They would rant, curse, and generally make fools of themselves over having been crossed in some way by Elwen. She was held to be at least as cold and heartless as himself. Still, Tamaranis was not the sort to be influenced towards kindness by the perceived personality or moral character of others. He accepted the contrast with her reputation at face value for the moment. “I greatly appreciate your offer to help me. What I ask should be a fairly simply matter for you. The reason I came here is that some one or something made an attack of a somewhat spiritual nature, against Salinye, in her dreams. It drew me into the attack, and so I would like to know who or what was responsible. It is very likely that the attacker is a malicious entity. It is also very likely that when I am aware of its identity I will destroy it. In that way this might help you to... atone.”

They did that so well that I just see in it writing and it sets me grinning.

It's nice to sometimes see poetry about seemingly mundane things. I can't critique poetry, I really can't, but I did enjoy reading this. I would describe this poem as... fun. Just have patience with the almost-dragon. If I had to bet, I'd bet on this being accepted.

Now coming into this knowing nothing about German... Its not a lack of fitness, I think it more implies just what it means. They've been through some recent wars and they're sick of it... That's almost (but not quite) the same as peace-loving, unless it translates somewhat like "Tired from war".

I can see where improvements were made from the first to the second post. The editting process wasn't a waste, but the way you changed the ending outright, I'm not sure how I feel about that. Sadly it might be the more plausible scenario, but it's maybe just a little bit too hard on the reader. Or is that what you were going for?

Despite what Tamaranis had just implied to the dryad, the kitsune probably didn’t pose a threat to the hostel. However, it was always possible that the kitsune had been responsible for the strange dream that he‘d been drawn into. There was no apparent reason for a nomadic spirit to inflict such a dream, but the motivations of kitsunes were often strange and convoluted. Even if the kitsune wasn’t responsible, it might be interested in finding whoever was. They were very unpredictable creatures. And because they were so unpredictable, Tamaranis didn’t immediately begin searching for the spirit with active magic. If it noticed him looking in such a manner, and it more than likely would, it might react violently or simply flee. It seemed too easy when an elven woman walked past, her second soul, that of a kitsune, shining like a beacon. Her mind seemed to be elsewhere and she didn‘t notice Tamaranis.. “Excuse me,” As the elf turned to face Tamaranis he noticed the unique way the two souls were bound. It wasn’t a haphazard, temporary merging, both fully inhabited the body. The kitsune was not simply hitching a ride or acting as a parasite, it had probably been in that body for a long time and clearly intended to stay there for a long time yet. “Yes...” Elwen faltered for only a second as she saw the source of the voice that had called her. She noticed now the way the light seemed to avoid the speaker. A moment later she detected the muted presence of something cold and alien, seeming to originate with him. Tamaranis moved quickly to avoid any misinterpretations about his intentions, “I was hoping to have a word with you, M‘lady.” He gave a brief, respectful bow, “I couldn’t help but notice you’re more than you might appear to some, and I believe I might benefit from your wisdom.”

It wouldn't have been accurate to say that Tamaranis was prone to becoming alarmed, exactly. It was an extremely rare thing that he would be taken truly by surprise, and just as rare that his suprise would be apparent in those instances. However he did tend to become, tensed, or readied, in a way. He always assumed the worst, and being suddenly summoned to the cabaret room for a meeting of an undisclosed nature could have been due to any number of dire circumstances. On his arrival in the cabaret room, however, thoughts of preparing to avert the apocalypse were banished from Tamaranis' mind. A celebration of some kind was underway. Tamaranis neglected to stifle the darkness that surrounded him as he watched. Most members of the pen were already familiar with his tendancy to kill the light around him. The overabundant light seemed to be a source of minor distress to Yui anyway, and for whatever reason she didn't see fit to do anything about it herself. When Ozymandius called him forward, however, The vampire utterly banished the darkness around him. It was something he did rarely to never. To those familiar with his habits, it was a far stronger act of respect than something like kneeling could ever be. It occured to Tamaranis that it was strange to be receiving an honorific after all these years. The last time he'd been subject of such a ceremony he'd still been alive. Still, "Quill Bearer" had a nice ring to it. Yui's promotion, however, seemed to steal the show. "Congradulations, Yui." Tamaranis said as the cheering died down. "I'll be the second to say it's about bloody time." OOC: Yeesh, I go away for a couple days and you go and promote me.

At the risk of being spammy... There's really just nothing like that stoning.

That was very you, Rune. Terribly appropriate. Still, seeing that topic title was absolutely terrifying.

I should have known you had something to do with that "Y2K" mess, Wyvern.

I've heard a lot of people agree with that...

I trip over my own feet ALL the time. My ankles have given up on being twisted or damaged. Now they simply bend at impossible angles and then spring neatly back into place, none the worse for the wear.

Whatever presence had entered Tamaranis' spire in order to affect his dreams, it had proven itself a master of magical stealth. Not only had it approached him unawares in his sleep, a more difficult task than one might think, but it had deftly removed all traces of its presence upon leaving. As such Tamaranis had no way to track down whoever or whatever was responsible. Magical energies, primed to tear into unidentifiable pieces anything living which passed through them, caused a slight rippling of the air as the vampire passed through them on his way out of his tomb. At the same time servants were alerted to their lord’s activity and scrambled to meet him. If anything suspicious wanders near here, pull it into the physical, Tamaranis broadcast his thoughts. “Near here” did not refer to a specific distance from the spire, but instead to things from another realm wandering close to this one. failing that, alert me, and I will attempt the same. In either case do your utmost to prevent it from leaving We hear and comply. The mind that responded was that of a dragoon, probably wandering the between at the moment. Though the gigantic insects were monstrous in appearance, they were terribly intelligent, possessing natural psychic and magical abilities. Some years ago Tamaranis had hijacked a technological device designed to breach inter-dimensional barriers and used it to free the dragoons from a gods-inflicted prison. Since then there had always been several ready serve him voluntarily. “Forgive my tardiness, milord.” A thin human man wearing the livery of continicium, though the country was now little more than a memory, rushed down the winding stairwell to meet his employer. “We had thought you’d turned in for the day.” Tamaranis ignored the man’s apology, “Find Rea, have her check over my wards and determine how they were breached.” “Yes, Milord.” The man scrambled back up the stairway. Another servant approached and Tamaranis barked an order before any discussion could take place, “Have the third chamber prepared for a summoning, I need to contact Shesh-Oling.” Without a word the woman went to do as she was told. The target of the dream, or at least the person intended to suffer most, had obviously been Salinye. Still, it was best to inform all those involved of the circumstances. The subterranean portions of Tamaranis’ spire held no purpose other than to serve as a component of the artificial nexus at the bottom. Because of this he climbed quite a few stairs before reaching small, unadorned room with a desk bearing implements writing. Lady Annael Tamaranis wrote with a quill out of compliance with tradition. Still, magic was involved in this as in nearly all actions taken by an archmage. Ink flowed from the quill evenly as it moved across parchment, needing no inkwell I write this for fear of the small chance that you are unaware of the fact the unpleasant dream you had last night was not of natural origin. I too experienced the dream in which you, Gyrfalcon, Daryl, and myself attacked Salinye. I am currently attempting to determine the nature of the force responsible, as of yet I can tell you nothing other than it seems to be capable of slipping through my most elaborate wards. I feel this implies a dangerous entity, I think you can conclude for yourself that it seems hostile as well. Regrettably I have little else to offer, but I felt it best to ensure those involved are aware of what little knowledge I have acquired on the matter. Tamaranis Tamaranis applied his personal seal to the letter, and wrote another of similar content, but addressed to Gyrfalcon. He didn’t bother writing one for Daryl, Gyrfalcon would likely pass the information along before a messenger would succeed in the nigh impossible task of tracking the werefox down. Another servant had been waiting at the door since shortly after Tamaranis began writing. “Ensure these reach Gyrfalcon and Annael promptly” he said as he handed the missives to him. “I have business to attend to.” The darkness around the vampire deepened until he could no longer be seen, then began to yield to the faint, magically supplied light of the inner corridors. When it finally did yield, there was no trace of him. The servant thought nothing of it, having long since become accustomed to the eccentric nature of his lord, and went looking for a runner. *** Between the drawbridge and the fountain in the courtyard of the Custos Manor the light simply seemed to fail. A dense blackness filled the air, and the early morning sun refused to touch it. Then the darkness allowed its grip to weaken somewhat, revealing Tamaranis at its centre. It did not weaken its grip much, however. The terrible power of the sun would have proven disastrous if allowed to strike the source of the darkness. For several moments Tamaranis simply waited, watched and listened. He very much doubted the purpose of the dream had been to draw him out into the daylight, but if it had, he would be more vulnerable in the light, and he was acutely aware of that. No monsters serving centuries old enemies surged forward to destroy him, no ancient magic was flung against the darkness that surrounded him. However, an old druid mustered up his best menacing stare and flung it at the new arrival. “I need to speak with the proprietor, is she about the premises?” Tamaranis inquired of the druid. Receiving no answer from the druid other than angry mutterings about how the undead didn’t freely roam ANY cities that he knew of, Tamaranis proceeded into the Hostel to find Salinye on his own . Though he gave no sign of noticing its beauty, the delicate architecture of the entrance was not lost on the vampire as he moved through it. Entering the hostel, he found that architecture of similar quality comprised most of the interior, of elven design, it seemed. Tamaranis musings were interrupted abruptly, “Excuse me, “ A conservatively dressed dryad, probably hostel staff, addressed him, “but would you like to rent a room?” It was evident the dryad didn’t appreciate his presence. As an undead being and magical creature so closely associated with nature, it was natural for them to be at odds. Still, the dryad was being paid to do a job and wasn’t about to turn away business because of personal distaste. “Actually I’m here to speak with Salinye, it may be rather important.” Tamaranis responded. “I’m sorry she just left. I take it you’ll be going as well then?” she seemed very chipper about the prospect of Tamaranis’ departure. “Do you happen to know where she was headed?” Tamaranis wasn’t hopeful about his odds of a favourable response. “She’s seemed a little upset, and left in a bit of a hurry. I’m not so sure she wants you to know where she is.” Briefly Tamaranis considered attempting to force from the small woman before him the information he wanted, then tossed the thought away. It wouldn’t be worth it to engage in a battle with the staff of the Custos Manor just to determine Salinye’s current location. He’d simply have to scry. As he prepared to take his leave, however, Tamaranis noticed something strange. Power with an odd duality to it. It was somewhat familiar was well, similar to something he‘d encountered previously, possibly centuries ago. Tamaranis closed his eyes in concentration, it was probably nothing, but it was best to be certain. Softly chanted divination spells began to pour from his mouth. “Hey! you can’t just walk in here and start using black magic!” The dryad didn’t recognize the spells Tamaranis was using, though only moderately powerful at best, they were immensely complex, and well beyond the scope of the casual magician. Tamaranis opened his eyes and looked at the dryad, she was both angry and somewhat frightened at the same time, he should have been more discreet. If he wanted to stay any longer without having her raise the alarm he was going to have to divulge the information he’d just acquired. “Are you aware that a kitsune is hiding somewhere on the premises?”

w00t. I've been passingly mentioned in one of Finnius' stories! Seriously though, this is great.

Brilliant, all. I don't write poetry myself, but I've enjoyed reading what's been posted so far.

Note that I told Salinye what it was over mIRC...

I saw no one commented, so I decided I'd better. Very Buddism. I doubt that's what you were going for though(or maybe you were, I dunno). Its also sad in a resigned, detached sort of way. It seems to start out on a personal level, a close friend or loved one is being pulled away by time, then gets more general. I'm not quite sure how I feel about that, but it does give an sense of expanding scope as the poem goes on... uhh... A feeling of loss that starts with one person a creates a realization of constant inevitable loss. It also sort of seems to capture the essence of looking back at good ol' days, and realizing they're gone forever. And thus we have to make good new days. This is as much sense as I make when it comes to this stuff, so if I'm bothering anyone stop me, really. It doesn't get any better after this.

Two figures, one short and one tall, stood near the center of a grassy clearing. It appeared empty, but their trained eyes could detect a small, almost playful magical creature darting about them. "Hey Dad, I got one!" Glaous called out to his father, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and pride. The young boy had cast a net of magical fibers out into the air and managed to ensnare the creature. Dancing within the net, shedding multicoloured lights, was a wisp. It wasn't truly a spirit, just a bit of stray magical energy that tended to absorb past thoughts and emotions and act on them. Some people, as strange as it seemed to Glaous' father, would pay good money for wild wisps. "Careful, they're tricky..." Glaous' father was an accomplished wizard, and it delighted him to see his son already wielding magic with enough skill to ensnare wisps. This was a fairly safe exercise. Wisps rarely became agressive unless they occupied a space of much recent violence and hatred. Even if this wisp did become ill-tempered, they weren't particularly dangerous, and it would be a simple matter to dispell it. Suddenly two more wisps darted from a nearby copse of trees, and darted towards Glaous on a straight line. They stopped in the air three feet above his head, and orbited each other at an amazing rate. Glaous' father chuckled as his son tried in vain to ensnare both circling wisps as he hastily stabalized the magic holding the first. They simply moved too fast and he couldn't catch them with enough fibers simultaneously to hold them in place. "First secure the one you already caught, then focus on those two." "Dad," Glaous said, sounding exasperated, "I know what I'm doing." Glaous' father just smiled and watched. The flight paths of the two wisps became increasingly erratic and Glaous continued trying to snare both at once. Though they weren't alive they seemed almost to be taunting him. Then the two wisps began orbiting one another closely again, as they did so they spun is a slow arc around Glaous, and as he continued to fling magic at them. He nearly struck he father at one point, though the older man could surely have turned the magic away with hardly an effort. He called out an admonishing "Careful!" all the same. The two free wisps passed infront of the snared one, the flowing magics collided with the static ones. The ties dispersed chaotically in every direction. The previously snared wisp and the two free ones darted for opposite corners of an imaginary triangle, fleeing the clearing. A fourth wisp generated by the interaction between the spells tauntingly did a few laps around Glaous before also retreating. Glaous' father nearly collapsed laughing when he saw the startled expression on his son's face.

A short distance from the keep at the The Mighty Pen, a slender tower made of some dark stone reached towards the sky. It was not so formidable as its predecessor. A few months ago there had been a much larger tower, perhaps half a mile in height, warded with magic that would enable it to easily withstand a seige by any device not crafted by another archmage. Recent events had forced the archmage in residence to abandon it for a less hostile environment and construct this smaller version. The tower extended as deeply into the ground as it did above it. At its very lowest level was a cramped, tomb-like chamber, almost confining enough to be a coffin. Floating in the air several inches above the ground in that chamber was the form of the archmage who had constructed the tower, sleeping. He did not sleep as mortals sleep, however. This was not simply a quiet chamber. It was an artificially constructed nexus of magical energies. Power filled the archmage, restoring the reserves of manna he would need should he use the more powerful magic available to him. The archmage's mind spread outward along the lines of power that flowed into him. He dreamed, not the idle dreams of mortals, but of events taking place around his fortress, keeping him aware even while he rested. Or at least that's how it should have been. *** Tamaranis idly lounged in Annael's tree. It wasn't common for him to do something like sit in a tree, but this was a good way to stay connected with the populous of The Pen. Somewhere in the back of his mind it occured to him that he didn't remember ascending into the tree, but it didn't quite surface to his conscious mind. It didn't occur to Tamaranis that something was wrong until Gyrfalcon's manner towards Salinye suddenly became aggresive and predatory, not at all his usual personality. Annael, too, seemed as if she were ready to attempt to physically harm Salinye. Looking down, Tamaranis noticed they were now hundreds of feet in the air, but he definately had not ascended. odd "I don't understand." Salinye softly said, trying to back away from Gyrfalcon and Annael. She seemed unaware of his presence for the moment. "You don't understand much, do you Salinye?" Gyrfalcon taunted. Annael responded simply with cruel laughter. Something was definately amiss. Tamaranis began considering his options. If violence errupted and he was the only person with a firm grip on his mind he would have to stop it. Considering Gyrfalcon's skill with a blade and the fact that Annael was a fallen angel, subduing them could prove problematic. Hopefully Salinye wouldn't go mad as well and make things even more difficult. "Oh, did you think we would allow you to keep your magics? Where is the fun in torture and death if your victim can fight back?" Annael asked Salinye. This was it, all hell was about to break lose. Tamaranis stepped forward, across open air, to interpose himself, hoping to diffuse the situation at the last minute. Too late he realized he wasn't moving to seperate Salinye from Gyrfalcon and Annael, but was instead advancing directly towards the wizardess. Furthmore, he'd bared his fangs. Salinye tried to retreat from him, and in doing so fell from her position on the treebranch. The vampire attempted to drop down and catch Salinye, but instead decended from the tree at a liesurely pace. He was not in control of his own actions. It wasn't frantically that he reached out with magic in every direction, trying to detect the power that was manipulating him. His mind spun outward quickly, but it was calm and methodical. Tamaranis stood on the ground now, behind the unharmed Salinye. Gyrfalcon and Annael also stood nearby, though there was no way that Gyrfalcon, despite his dexterity, could have descended so quickly lacking the power of flight. Daryl appeared suddenly, and Salinye tried to run towards him, but Tamaranis caught her wrist. At the same time that his magic unravelled the mystery of this, nothing here was real, he logically concluded this had to be a dream. Impossible as it was that he was having this sort of dream, it was far more possible than this really happening. Continuing to search about him he located the nearby souls of Gyrfalcon, Salinye, Annael, and Daryl. This was a shared dream, apparently. It wouldn't do to attempt to break free just yet, there was nothing to indicate events in this dream would be reflected in the real world. It was better to see where this was going. The dream ended in short order. Daryl assumed his hybrid form, and Tamaranis' head, seeming to act of its own free will, gave a nod, permission to attack. The werefox leapt forward, clearly to rip Salinye limb from limb. The elven wizardess screamed and raised her free arm in a futile attempt to ward off her attacker. And the dream was over. *** In the tomb below his tower, Tamaranis opened his eyes. The wards around this place should have prevented any magic but his own. This sort of thing could not be permitted. Whoever had dared to attack his mind while he slept, he would find them. Clearly the psion or mage who had done this was clever, but he would find them all the same.

What's with big red buttons? It's like people have a biological drive to push them or something...

This is a nifty thread, because I've been unsure of how to pronounce quite a few names for quite a while. However, it would be too much work to switch away from the incorrect pronounciations and start saying these names properly. I'll just carry on being wrong instead. (If you get any of my character's names wrong, whatever.)

Wow... You were more or less long lost when I first stumbled across AM.

My little sister asked me to do her homework for her. The assignment was to write a myth to explain something observed in nature, such as why rabbits have big ears or why giraffe's have long necks. Being the kind and helpful older sibling that I am, I agreed. She told me she wanted to get a good mark and so didn't use what I came up with. Since that decision left it without an audience, I've decided to post it here. Not entirely sure why I figured that would be a good idea. So here it is: One day, long ago, the gods were looking at the earth and realized they hadn’t meddled in mortal affairs for like, five or six days now. Seeing this, the gods became angry. Meanwhile... “Gee, Bob, I don’t think its a very good idea,” Said Jimmy to his fellow member of an ancient culture advanced far beyond our own, but long destroyed and forgotten by all but time itself. “Genetically altering an animal to be an accessory that replaces women‘s purses is all kinds of wrong..” “Don’t be stupid, Jimmy,” Bob retorted. “It’s a great idea, we’ll make millions, and we’ll finally be able to move out of this hovel we live in.” Bob waved his hand at the dirty apartment they shared for emphasis. Jimmy looked around, the apartment was sort of disgusting. Nearly empty pizza boxes littered the place, no dishes had been done in years, and Jimmy and Bob had long since stopped using them. The walls were rotten, and he was fairly certain the reason he was tired all the time was that this room was actually a part of the ventilation system being used to evacuate carbon-monoxide from the building. To top it all off a large and aggressive ancestor of the modern day cockroach was advancing menacingly towards him. “Maybe you’re right, Bob.” Jimmy reluctantly agreed as he grabbed the phase disruption plasma blaster nearest him and fired a few shots into the uber-bug, causing it to skitter under the couch in a terrified manner and plot its vengeance. “This place is kinda a dump.” So Jimmy and Bob grabbed a mouse and, utilizing the incredible technology that was available to even the lowliest bachelors in their society, genetically altered it, turning it into the first kangaroo. “You see, Jimmy.” Bob said, “It can follow people around and carry things in that pouch for them, we’ll sell them for ten, fifteen bucks a pop.” Just then the kangaroo became aggressive, it kicked bob across the filthy kitchen, engaged the giant roach in a brief duel to the death, emerged victorious, and then escaped into the wild. “No!” Cried Jimmy in dismay, “forty-five minutes of hard work, and all for nothing!” Meanwhile... “Hey! I’ve got it!” declared one of the gods, “Let’s turn the sky from red to blue, that’ll really confuse those stupid mortals, they’ll think it’s a sign of the apocalypse or something.” And ever since then, the sky has been blue.