Alaeha

Alex stepped away from her brother and the squirrel who had taken up residence on his back, still confused and now more than a little irritated. "What cake? We don't have any -- why would you think..." She trailed off as a sign fell off of her brother's back, proclaiming "Ask them about cake" "Sav, we don't have any cake." She took down her halo and appraised it for a moment. She looked over to Lupus, who seemed to have expected her brother's counter-vote, and she shook her head. "We've got to be getting close to the Doom Master's lair by now, I won't be able to do you much more good anyway, but Lupus is levelheaded and knows his stuff. I know he's not a traitor." She handed her halo over to the wolf, "Send me home." More quietly, she whispered, "any tricks you have left, you'd best use them soon." OOC: Changing my Vote. I'm voting Alex the Sister/Alaeha (Myself) out.

Alex the Sister took in the spattered remains of the puddle, and watched the developments with a rapidly growing frown. "Bugs," The Brother began, from beside her, "is this Doom Master very clever?" "Nyeah... he's evil." The brother popped off one of his horns and idly polished it with his shirt, "Well, if I was a Doom Master, (and I'm not,) I think I'd pick someone less obvious than me." He set his horn back in place, and Alex the Sister stood up to straighten it out. Someone less obvious... her eyes roamed across the group of characters remaining, and she nodded, her halo momentarily turning into a lightbulb as the squirrel went running off into the woods again in his antics with the other tanuki sisters. "Sav," she said, "he could've splashed them with the Dip and completely forgotten it by the time we all showed up. Just 'hey a bucket let's splash somebody!'" OOC: Accusing Sav / Gryphon

"Am I a butterfly dreaming I'm a man... Or a bowling ball dreaming I'm a plate of sashimi? Never assume that what you see and feel is real!" Doreen (qtd. from Chrono Trigger) (What can I say? I enjoy the absurd.)

The problem I can see with a Give Rating is that it stands a pretty fair chance of coming to resemble "Geek Code". I'm relatively comfortable with all the aforementioned aspects, so if we just go with an "Ok/Not Ok" Switch I might put "1-5 Inclusive, but my threes may be out to lunch". If we start describing how "in depth" our feedback in various areas is on a typical day, or how comfortable we are, it could get a bit odd. For example, I'm perfectly comfortable discussing the positives, slightly less comfortable with the negatives (mostly for fear that the author would lash out and/or assume the fetal position), hit or miss with possible improvements, out of practice but still competent at the technical side of things, and a Grammar Fuhrer. So, if we ranked comfort on a 1-5 (5 High) Scale, I might be a 43235 (or, If we instead based it on a Letter Grading System, BCDCA). Or, in short, if we're going to do it, we'll probably need to either keep it simple or make it verbose.

Alex stumbled blearily out of the tent, her T-shirt squinting in commiseration with her as she idly reach up and pulled off the nightcap that she had placed atop her halo. She pulled up short as she recognized the colors of the paint puddle which seemed to be a focus of attention, and looked around. "So it wasn't butterflies..." She poked her finger in the paint and began to draw a fanged frowny face on the ground next to the puddle.

Alrighty, opening this thing up with Obscuring Veil, which "links" Mynx's Confusion with Venefyxatu's Allergies. Edit: PS: Caaaaaaaaaake!

Wrote this up for Katz' new Circle. The opening line is from Mynx's Confusion, and the Closing Line is from Venefyxatu's Allergies. Let sleep its veil drop... Normally, I don't invert my sentences like a nine hundred year old muppet, but dang it, when it's five in the morning and I haven't managed to fall asleep yet I feel like a nine hundred year old muppet. It's always the same with those bouts of insomnia: go to bed with this great idea percolating in the back of your head, and it keeps on going until about midnight, and then even your back-burner ideas have puttered out but your body's autopilot is set to “conscious”. But even if you drift close enough to the “aware” side of that veil to decide “You know, I'm not going to get any sleep right now”, you can't muster up the energy to sit up, let alone move the lead weights that make up your body into your computer chair to play solitaire. Let sleep its veil drop... and, mercifully, it did. The next thing I knew, I was... well... erm. Move along, nothing to see here. Anyway, the next next thing I knew, I was looking at a spiral staircase made of columns, just one of the many obstacles that stood between me and my goal. I descended the stairs in a leaping, physics defying rush, only to find myself staring outward onto an open battlefield. Opposing armies had bunkered on either side of the field, and I would have to cross No Man's Land to get to the castle on the other side. I took a deep breath to nerve myself, and darted forward, making tumbling leaps the moment I heard the gunfire begin. “Now just a minute, girly...” Something grabbed my ankle, and I did a double take. Girl? Then, on second thought, I did remember seeing something. So that was my reflection! Then I took once more, as I realized that it was a dead soldier whose hand had clutched my ankle. “Yeeeeeiick. Getoffamegetoffame!” I kicked and scrambled away, somehow making it the rest of the way across the field, only to be greeted at the castle gate by a gnome. “Sorry, dude,” Dude? But... never mind... “but the Princess isn't here. And she took her cake, too.” “What?!? But... Cake...” The sound of a loud groan woke me up and it took me several moments to realize it was me who was groaning.

Yay for Rune! I had just noticed as I was going to send a PM that the box was already checked, and I paused. "Wait a sec, I don't remember checking that..." So I went and opened up another PM and it was checked again. Very cool! I should totally get my head together with Ayshela to figure out how to package cookies so they don't go stale...

Oh, on further thought, something that I would very, very much appreciate: The option to have the "save a copy to my sent folder" thingy default to being On when I'm sending PMs. I've lost all but a handful of the PMs I've sent out since the board switched over because I keep forgetting to check that little box -- early on, I didn't even notice its existence. I would offer cookies in repayment, but cookies don't handle being mailed very well.

Alex grinned at the squirrel's antics, her previous sadness all but forgotten in favor of present amusements. "A clue?" She stared, wide-eyed, at Sav's Shiny Thing, "Did Daffy get kidnapped by a mob of shiny butterflies?"

~Items~ Jirah's bracelet is enchanted to enhance his senses and mask his presence, helping him to sense and slip past magical shields or wards. He also has a pair of extradimensional bags which he keeps, literally, up his sleeves, allowing him to carry rope, lockpicks, a grappling hook, or anything else he thinks might be useful without worry of it being spotted. He carries anywhere from six to twenty throwing knives on his person, as well as a pair of longer daggers that he wields in melee if necessary. Both of his long knives are made of adamantine, nicely made, and otherwise unremarkable. Finally, he carries a small lead-lined pouch designed to provide yet another layer of anti-divinatory warding for what he counts to be his single most important possession: hidden inside his tunic for safety and tied tightly closed, the pouch holds what appears to be a crystal the size of a large marble (Approximately 1 inch/2.5 cm.). This “marble” holds the soul of a girl named Nilani.

~Magical Abilities~ The tattoo on Jirah's back hides his presence and thoughts from supernatural detection – to any but the most skilled diviners, he may as well not be there. He has a bit of magical ability which he's learned to harness only since he came to the Pen; mostly, this allows him to pick pockets or locks from a distance. He has learned to recognize the "feel" of magic, be it already established or a spell in the process of being cast, but he hasn't learned to distinguish beyond that -- he can't tell the difference between a simple prestidigitation and a fireball until things start getting hot.

~Abilities~ Easily the best in his old guilds, Jirah excels at stealth and getting to places he's not supposed to be in. If the only way to sneak into an enemy camp is to balance on a slender branch and leap over the sentry's heads, he's perfectly capable of doing it without snapping the branch (and thus alerting the sentry). He knows more than anyone really needs to know about knots, and knows enough of several languages to get an approximate message across or make a deal. Something like "That, how much?". He has an unusually broad understanding of descriptors, for a "beginner's understanding" of the languages, but that goes with the territory -- he needs to know he has the proper mark, after all. He's passable in melee combat, but can only really thrive through dirty tricks or with an ally to keep his opponents off-guard. He's quite good with his throwing knives – he learned early on that he couldn't possibly carry enough knives that he could afford less than perfect precision. He still isn't satisfied, but he “gets by.”

~History~ Jirah's history is long and involved, and he doesn't talk about it much. He came from a happy family, but it all went downhill from there. He came to the Pen Keep after meeting many of its inhabitants in the defense of Salinye's Hostel. He has since maintained a healthy distance from the majority of its members, only entering their midst on a few big occasions, such as the Quincuinox or some of the Carnivals.

~Personality~ Jirah is an archetypal laughing rogue, within the Pen – he solidly believes that the world would be a better place if everyone laughed more often. He doesn't often play the fool, and is loathe to force the role on others – he believes that the serious folk have the right maintain their solemnity, and acknowledges that the bereaved are best left their grief – he certainly isn't going to try and snap them out of it. He views life as being a challenge – he's made mistakes, many of them irreparable, but he still does what he can to get the most out of life while he still has it. His attitude is pretty much like Slick's in this strip of Sinfest. (warning: impolite, though not obscene language) Jirah will, occasionally, turn introverted or confrontational, but only rarely. His single biggest peeve is with those who deny the possibility of redemption or forgiveness.

~Physical Description~ Jirah's build is best described as wiry: he measures 6'2”, and weighs all of 160 lbs. His eyes, bright blue, carry a decidely ironic look of calmness and innocence. He keeps his “dirty blonde” hair cut short. He's commonly spotted wearing a deep blue tunic with dark green pants, and rarely seen without some manner of black gloves on – typically thin ones, to minimize impediment to his dexterity, but thicker ones for harsher jobs. He wears a bracelet on his right wrist – a golden band small medallion showing a stylized eye overlaid on the rune. The space between his shoulder-blades is entirely occupied by tattoo depicting a single, unnaturally symmetrical, blue eye which, on closer inspection, is revealed to be made of tiny, delicately scribed runes. (He passes it off as repayment for more lives than a litter of kittens has any right to, and refuses to elaborate)

Alex the Sister surveyed the scene, stooping down to look at the feather. Her T-shirt sported a frown with a stylized tear as she looked mournfully about... "What..." She sat on a fallen tree, "he..." she shook her head, spreading her arms, and looking up at the still active sky, she finally settled on "How?"

What Alaeha expects from Themightypen.net -- A working message board populated by intelligent, largely sensible people. -- An IRC channel where Sephora can doodle on the Idling Statues and visit the penguin inside the couch. What Alaeha would very much like (in descending order of apparent feasibility) -- A group of D&D 3.x players willing to participate in a play-by-post a campaign -- The return of the Hostel Fox RP -- An extra few hours in the day to spend on writing. -- A cake baked by Q Separate from the previous lists, things that would be nice to see -- The return of Salinye's Life Questions threads -- An increase in non-carnival activities -- More parties in the IRC channel

May as well get in on at least one round... I'm in! Alex is a mid-teens girl who's attracted so many falling anvils in her career as a toon that she adamantly refuses to take off the wings and halo. She's convinced that the glint off the halo is throwing off the aim of the anvils, but her brother Alex insists it's all in her head. The truth (which neither Alex is aware of) is that Alex the Sister is the victim of bad paperwork, which results in her getting anviled on behalf of her brother as well as herself. When she was younger, she worked around it to successfully re-enact "Red Riding Hood", but she's since resigned herself to bit parts that can be ad-libbed out if necessary. Alex stands about 5'4", with red hair and blue eyes. She typically wears denim shorts and a white t-shirt depicting a bright yellow smily face, along with her signature wings and halo. Her shirt's "face" changes expressions and color as appropriate to her current situation and mood -- "Mr. Yuck" if she's eeking over a spider, or white with Xs for eyes when she gets anviled yet again. (Alex the Brother is free to be taken as a character, NPCd, or left out of the mission as is most convenient.)

Ha! I, too, am Pure Evil!

Lasiera shook her head in quiet disgust, still only paying the barest of attention to the hum of human life around her. Terence' casual disregard for another man's work couldn't be helped, and she didn't care to lose her guide over it, but it still irritated her a bit. She was startled out of her irritation, however, when she felt something hard and furry scrape at her foot as she fluttered along behind the old beggar. Looking down revealed it to be a dog. Black and white fur intermingled across its body, and a long tail shook side to side as it sat back down on the ground after pawing at her foot. "Hey! Flying lady!" The dog barked, "You be my friend?" Terence looked back at the sound. "Don't worry about the stray. Eat's better'n me, he does." "Certainly, I'll be your friend," Lasiera smiled, and burst into a fit of giggles at Terence's look of befuddlement and impatience. "I'm doing something important, so I can't play, but I'd love it if you'd tag along." She turned to Terence, forcing her expression to calmness, "how much farther to the elders?"

I'll go ahead and bid 25, then.

Alaeha nodded, and stepped forward with a wide smile on her face. She wore not a dress, but a sleeveless robe. Made of a deep blue fabric, the robe would have been somewhat plain had it not been for silver embroidery which traced elegant patterns along the edgework. The back rose up almost high enough to touch her neck, while a pale blue sash pulled the front just tight enough to avoid any impropriety. The robe clung to her form, revealing an attractive, natural curve unexaggerated by her attire. It flowed down to stop just above her ankles, revealing a pair of silvered white dancing slippers. She strode easily down the stage, taking in her audience. Some of these she hadn't seen in months or years, and some were new faces altogether. Wyvern was still staring mournfully toward the backstage, where Evangeline had disappeared to, when Gyrfalcon ribbed him to call his attention back to the stage. "It's good to be back." Alaeha announced without preamble, "There are new faces here, and some familiar faces I've not seen in a while, so I'll follow Evangeline's example and introduce myself. "I am Alaeha. I enjoy adventure, good conversation, good music, and the like. I'm not a proper wizard, but I've enough understanding of the principles to hold my own in casual conversation. As those who've been around for a while are already aware, I've changed a great deal since I left," She looked down at her hair momentarily, grinning wryly, "but I like to think that I'm, on the whole, a better person for it even if I liked blonde better." She paused for a moment, and gave the crowd another smile before turning to walk back offstage with the same relaxed grace she'd walked on with. Once offstage, she knelt down next to the child in front of her. "Alright Sephora, you go out and introduce yourself." Sephora nodded enthusiastically and leaped out onstage. The tiny little girl wore a plain dark green vest with matching pants, and no shoes. She traversed the catwalk in almost a blur of handsprings, cartwheels, and flips that ended with her standing on her hands facing forward, out toward the audience. "Hiii!" She giggled as she addressed the (to her view) upside down audience. "So 'laeha says I need to tell all you peoples who I am." She frowned. The people in the back wouldn't be able to see her like this. Then something familiar feeling lifted her up into the air "Uhh, yeah" She continued, "I don't know why I'm floating, but is not me doing it. I'm Sephora. I like climbing things and jumping and bouncing and shiny things and sugary things and kitties." She paused for a moment. "Other furry things are nice too if they're soft an' stuff. Oh, and penguins. So if anybody wants to play with me, I guess that's why I'm here." That said, she fell to the ground, flipping to land on her feet, and pranced offstage giggling madly.

Alaeha approached the booth and frowned. She still had a bit of coordination to get wrapped up before she could take Elrohir on the date she owed him... Still, it would be a shame not to participate if she were allowed. "Hey Alaeha!" She spun to see Jirah standing behind her, Sephora perched on his shoulder struggling to hold back giggles. "What're you doing?" Sephora asked. "Just... considering." Alaeha temporized. "Ok fine, what're considering?" Sephora stood up and hopped from Jirah's shoulder to Alaeha's. She looked up at the banner. "What's a 'batch-ul-or-ette'?" "It's a fancy word for a girl without a boyfriend." Jirah gave the child a grin. "They're letting the boys around the pen pay money to spend an afternoon with them." "Sounds like fun." Sephora nodded. "Can I play?" Alaeha rolled her eyes, and shot Jirah a pleading look. "Well, we can ask, but I've got to get going." He winked, and gave Alaeha a nod. The half-elf sighed, and began to scribble a note on a loose piece of parchment. Alaeha would like to participate if she is allowed despite still owing a date from a previous auction. Sephora, likewise, would like to participate if one of her age is permitted. -- Alaeha (OOC: Haven't been able to get in touch with a Guild Leader who's solid on this, so I'm putting my name in anyway. If I'm disallowed, that's fine, and if I'm not that's good too.)

Sephora clings to the cloud-bronco's mane, giggling wildly as it bucks and tosses underneath her. "Wheeee! Cloud-horsies are way better than sheep!" Apparently enraged, the horse gives its head a vicious toss that flings Sephora up into the air, where she hangs for a moment. Squealing in glee at defying gravity, Sephora throws her arms wide and lands on the bronco's back in proper Flying Tackle-Hug position, grasping tightly at its fur as she lands. Ferrang, desperately tired, finally trips in a rut in the ground, resulting in a spastic swing that sends the mighty steed (and Sephora with it) swinging upward in pendulum-like arc. And for three booth's distance, a step-pausing, ear-clapping SNAP rings out clearly, followed by a thud and a muffled grunt as Ferrang strikes the ground. Freed of its restraint, the cloud-bronco lets out a roar of defiance as it bears down on the hapless Wyvern... and bowls him over with the force of a thousand teddy bears, settling down atop the Elder of Initiates with a grunt of disapproval. It is plainly displeased at having its rampage cut short. At the far end of the booth, Ferrang sits, having somehow managed to get thoroughly tied up in his string. "Wyvern?" Sephora jumps from the not-really-a-horse, landing on the Almost-Dragon's shoulder as he tries to claw his way out from under the thing. She climbs gently down to the ground to stand before him on pout, "I think it broke."