Alaeha

Jirah entered the tent for the dunk tank, spied Stick on the platform, and laughed. "Do I want to know what you did to get roped into this one?" He asked. "Not really." Stick replied. Jirah dropped five geld into Ayshela's palm, and drew three balls from the bucket. He weighed them carefully in his hands and smiled. The worst thieves he had ever come across were those who ran carnivals. Balls and darts were always weighted poorly, and anythng else that could be rigged was. These seemed to be pretty good though. He tossed the ball lightly toward the target, and it arced through the air before bouncing off the center, too softly to drop the platform. As the platform shook under Stick, he smirked. The target was more responsive than he had expected. He could have some fun with this one. He deliberately tossed his second ball poorly, bouncing it off the corner so that the platform again shook threateningly, but refused to drop. Jirah shook his head, feigning disappointment, and turned to leave. With a wink to Ayshela, he tossed his third shot over his shoulder just as he heard Stick breathe a sigh of relief. He left the tent with a soft chuckle which changed to roaring laughter as he heard the expected gasp-splash sequence signifying Stick's immersion in the water.

Jirah approached the booth just in time to watch Carbone bolt, and laughed to himself. Nothing was ever simple, here. Ever. "Hey, I think I have something that belongs to you." He told Ayshela. "Umm... ok? What?" She asked. "Well..." He decided to drag it out, "It's Salinye's as well, I think." "What?!" Salinye demanded, suddenly attentive. "Hey! Easy now." He reached into his pouch and tossed a small handful of coins on the table. "I heard a rumor about Xanthus using disappearing coins to pay for his kisses, so I decided to remedy the situation." "You don't have to pay for someone else," Ayshela began, "I'm not. I'm giving you his payment." "He just gave it to you?" Salinye asked, somewhat dubious. "No. He doesn't know that he's paying you after all." He reached into his pouch again, and withdrew five geld of his own. "And this is from me." He dropped the geld on the table, and stepped just close enough to kiss Ayshela on the forehead. "And if anyone else tries to pull a stunt like that, be sure to let me know. I'll be around." Without another word, the best undergarment thief of the Quincuinox left to wander the carnival grounds.

Alaeha looked back and saw Guido struggling with her instructions. At his request, she blushed slightly. Of course, she should have done that in the first place. "I'm sorry. I intended to do that, but I must have forgotten. Just a moment." She thought for a moment, and wrote a postscript to her notes. PS: My apologies for not including this in the main body. The following are a pair of lines like the ones I'm asking for, with lines under the stressed syllables. "Tonight I hope my man will take me out to see the sights, and all the rides, as well." Fighting her blush back down, she handed the parchment and quill back to Guido. "That should help."

Jirah nodded to the elven looking man... Merelas, he thought... as he closed the door behind him. "The Lady would like everyone to meet her in her office tomorrow morning." The man told him. "I suspected she might." Jirah replied. He had known she would. It was hard not to hear most people through doors, at the volumes they spoke at. "And she wants you to gather them all, I'd wager." Merelas confirmed his statement with a nod. The thief thought for a moment. "Well," Jirah said, "I couldn't tell you where most of them are, but I'm certain the ranger -- Gyrfalcon? -- is near here." He suppressed a frown. It had taken his best efforts to get this close to the lady without the ranger's knowledge. As Jirah drifted off into thought, Merelas left to inform whoever else he could find of the meeting the next day. The ranger didn't trust him, that much was clear. None of them did, it seemed. It made sense that they would distrust an outsider after the recent events, (and, he admitted to himself, he had come to steal from the Hostel,) but it made things remarkably inconvenient. How was she supposed to be safe when she was surrounded by "wizards" who hadn't even known of the existence of the zombies until they were under siege?

Jirah looked through the conservatory, scanning the various odds and ends. As his eyes found the "Bachelor Auction," he smirked. Aleyn would be sure to notice it and erase it, but he had to do it. Drawing the quill, he wrote in neat script identical to his friend's: "Aleyn"

Just slightly off-center in the main portion of the Carnival, Alaeha set up a small tent. It was blue, of course. (What other color could it be?) Pale blue -- almost periwinkle -- with a deep royal blue trim. Money had not been a concern, so she had found the perfect tent. Inside, she placed a small, nicely carved desk and chair. She had no idea what manner of wood it was, but it was good enough for her purposes. In the corner of the desk, she set a jar of geld, and in the center a stack of parchments with a quill, some ink, a box of pins, and a whittling knife for the quill -- just in case. Looking at the modest, clay jar, she laughed softly to herself. How many people would be zapped for trying to take more than they earned? With a soft whisper of thanks to Peredhil for enchanting the jar to ensure honesty, (she had persuaded him on the grounds that dishonesty was Rude, and theft even moreso,) she sat, and began writing. Those intending to enter the contests the AAA holds later on will be expected to be adept at writing in Iambic Pentameter. For those unfamiliar with poetic terms, this means that each line will be exactly ten syllables long, with emphasis placed on the second, fourth, sixth, eighth, and tenth. An Iamb is a two syllable unit of measure in which the first syllable in stressed; it is not to be confused with a trochee (two syllables with emphasis on the first,) spondee (two stressed/emphasized syllables,) dactyl (one stressed syllable followed by two unstressed,) or an anapest (a reversed dactyl.) The term Pentameter means that there are five Iambs in each line. Iambic Pentameter means Five Iambs. Starting with two unit lines, the terms are Dimeter, Trimeter, Tetrameter, Pentameter, Hexameter; there are some other terms I can't remember offhand. They're irrelevant in this case, though, as that covers two through six. My challenge to those reading this is simple. Use the spare parchment to write fourteen lines of poetry in Iambic Pentameter. It can rhyme or be rhymeless, it makes no difference to me. You may write another 14 line poem if you wish, but you will only be able to take Geld for two poems. Good luck! ~Alaeha Alaeha read over her notes, and nodded to herself. They should be clear enough. If not, she was sure someone would find her and ask questions. As she left, she wondered just how effective the shock would be at keeping Wyvern out. It would be good enough. That was certain.

Nah... I read Narnia and the Screwtape letters, and it was interesting. But he's too short and simplistic. I don't dislike long books (On the contrary, my two favorite series both average out to about 600-700 pages per book -- both series being at least 8 books long. And I've avoided Robert Jordan like the plague) It's just that I want 600-700 pages of plot, and character development, and stuff happening. Not 600 pages of description, 60 pages of plot, and 40 pages of epilogue to hide the fact that there's no character development.

I haven't read much Tolkien, honestly. I read the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings, and decided that he was too dry and longwinded for me. I'll take Modesitt or Goodkind over Tolkien any day. (I'd take Dr. Seuss, for that matter. ) I'd always just assumed that that world was round because the standard laws of physics seemed to apply. *Confused look*

Pretty much. It's just something that people should know about. It makes no practical difference if you have a good sense of meter, as you'll be using a word that fits the meter the same as the word it rhymes with. If you find that your rhymes start flirting with eachother, though, you're probably doing something wrong. (Unless you have deviant rhymes)

Some of this will probably be old information to some/many of you, but I'm hoping that some of it will also be new. I know that there are some to whom almost all of this information will be new, so I'm going to cover all of what I know about the topic, so that hopefully when we get into contests and the like, people will know what they're doing, or where to find out. To begin, a Rhyme is pretty simple. Two rhyming words are words which sound alike, because they share a vowel sound, and the consonant sounds following it are identical, as in the case of Rhyme-Time-Lime-Dime, and so on. Those are perfect rhymes. Perfect rhymes can be hard to find after the second syllable though. Emission-Omission, for example, can be a hard rhyme to work into a poem; wavering-savoring would be difficult for some, as well. However, as the term "perfect" implies, there are also Imperfect rhymes. These are word sets which share the vowel sound, and have similar consonant sounds following them. Time-Line, for example, or Late-Raid. They tend to be less popular than perfect rhymes because they're less easily noticed and not guaranteed to be recognized as a valid rhyme. It can be somewhat irritating to have your poem dismissed as being "unsonnetlike" for having an imperfect rhyme in it. Visual rhymes are, ironically, more common than imperfect rhymes. These are words which look like they should rhyme, but when spoken aloud, they don't. A common example is the rhyme of Pain-Again (though some of us actually do say "again" so that it rhymes. *Pointed look at Peredhil*) There are others as well, though the only one that springs to mind is Breast-Beast. Within the world of Perfect Rhymes (Fine-Pine) there are two kinds of rhymes: Masculine and Feminine Rhymes. Which type of rhyme is being used depends on where the emphasis falls in the word. In a masculine rhyme, it falls on the last syllable in a rhyme (toDAY-oKAY, HI-PIE, etc.) If the rhyme is one syllable long, it's most likely masculine. In a feminine rhyme, the emphasis falls on the second to last syllable in the rhyme. They're rhymes like Sister-Twister or Mainly-Vainly. If this isn't clear... I apologize, I'm tired and hurried. Feel free to ask questions for clarity. Or if you know something I didn't mention, please mention it. I'm certain I don't know everything there is to know about it.

Those who are using their brains are recognizing that however nice it sounds to vote for those who perfectly represent your views, values, and ideals, it doesn't work. The only way that it works is in a direct democracy, where people represent themselves. Otherwise you won't find someone who matches you, and even if you could, you'd have at least half the population in your legislature. Those who use their brains are recognizing the futility of trying to get everything their way in a system designed to please the masses, and are instead trying to find the portion of the masses that is most likely to get them those things which are most important to them. Even a quarter of a loaf is better than none.

No offense intended, but people who don't use their brains tend to wind up in unpleasant situations. People who don't use their brains when they're deciding someone else's fate as well should probably not be allowed to determine their own. I hope the smily means that you were kidding, and I'm just too tired to pick it up for sure? (I'm no expert in canadian politics -- or even American politics -- but that's something I've noticed to be pretty much universal)

As I said, all three guilds will be having events. This isn't a Quill Quest for anyone, it's just an event/set of events that we're holding because we want to. And any even that's posted out here, anyone can participate in. If you were hoping to be able to help with one of the events/booths or something... ask the leader for whichever guild you wanted to work with.

A Carnival is coming to the Pen! Nyyark, the other Guild Leaders, and I have been putting our heads together and have arranged for a Carnival. The AAA (Articulate Artisans of Alliteration, or "The Poet's Guild" for the heathens among us ;P) will be sponsoring it, with a few booths, events, and games from the other two guilds. Since Nyyark is the main reason we have this carnival, he has chosen that the primary focus of our portion of the Carnival will be on Sonnets. All five forms will be included (yes, there are five, not just two,) at one point or another. There will be classes on basic poetic devices, as well as on the individual forms, which we will be beginning shortly. There will also be contests open to any who have applied for initiate status in the pen -- the details of the contests will be disclosed when they are announced. We're hoping to turn this into a tradition. One of the other guilds will be hosting the next carnival, in about three months, (starting on or immediately after the Equinox.) Anyways, I don't think I can stretch this announcement out much farther. This will be a thread to be referred back to, as I will be editing this post at a later date to include links to all the contests, games, classes, booths, and whatever else comes up. The Rest of the Carnival (Or: Linky Goodness) A Lesson in Rhyme Questions? Comments?

Hmm... personally, I skimmed through the poem and read the feedback, because the "Shallow" comment caught my eye. Then I went and read the poem. Honestly, I think it's funny. Slightly shallow seeming, certainly, but turnabout is definitely fair play. It seems far more shallow and unfair that "skinny" people are supposed to listen to everyone else saying "eat more" or "you're too skinny" and whatever else without comment, but can't turn it around. Some of the mechanics of the poem are annoying, particularly having the -east sounding rhymes in the same stanza as the -est sounding rhymes, but I honestly don't see why this one's gotten a negative reaction.

Though using commas in the manner displayed in #5 can cause confusion. For myself, I can't figure out whether (a) Joe's dog has three legs and Joe likes to play fetch, or (b )Joe likes to play fetch, just like his dog.

Hmm... For myself, I hate small children. With rare exceptions, I have difficulty finding single redeeming qualities in any being under the age of 12. So most likely, first of all, I wouldn't have a kid. If I did, chances are I would like it only because my wife had somehow managed to forgive the thing (and me) for labor pains, and if she could do that, I'd have something of an obligation to not hate it. So if the kid was less than 14 years or older, unless she were screaming at me to let the kid live, I'd keep her. As Zadown noted, kids are renewable resources. Besides, there are millions waiting to be adopted. If the kid were a human being, (of an age when they could maintain an intelligent conversation, and had at least two redeeming qualities,) then I'd be screwed either way because no matter which choice I made, "any idiot" would know better, and I should be ashamed of myself, and I obviously never knew/loved the living one, blah blah... So I'd preempt it by saying to kill both. Except I'd probably have my inner bastard reined in at that point. I honestly can't think of any non-bastardly answers right now.

The scary thing is that that explanation actually makes a twisted sort of sense.

/me joins into the pity party. I'm stressed almost sick. Does that count?

Happy birthday to a good friend of one of my good friends, and a fellow poet! *Hugs*

1. Noun: Walrus 2. Verb (past tense): Defenestrated 3. Plural noun: Orlan's pants 4. Verb (past tense): Stumbled 5. Noun: Booze 6. Adverb: haughtily 7. Verb (past tense): stampeded 8. Noun: Orgy 9. Verb (past tense): wielded 10. Unit of time: one fifty-secondth of a second. 11. Verb: Fly 12. Verb: Fall 13. Noun: Steel toed boot

Just popping in to say thanks to you Artist types. These pictures are really well done.

Ilanor had returned. She had received word within minutes of his first sighting, and had been readying herself for hours now. Her maid would be bringing him in to her any moment now. The door slipped softly open, and she heard it close behind her. "Lady Siliera?" The maid's voice trembled slightly. "What is it, Leya?" Siliera asked, "Where is Ilanor?" "I met him as he entered the castle moment ago." Leya began, "I told him that you wished to speak with him, and he said he had matters of the utmost importance to discuss with your father, before he turned and left. I had no chance to tell him how important it was to milady." She bowed, almost weeping in her nearly sickening display of deference. "Leya," Siliera tilted her maid's chin upward and brought her face forward, "It was as you said. You had no chance. "And if his business is more important than I am, I shall simply have to be where the business takes place." She reached to her back and began undoing the ties holding her gown in place. "What? But milady, where are you going?" Leya blanched. "If his news can't wait until he has seen me, he won't bother to wait for my father either. Father is in his bathchambers." She smiled, "I've been needing an excuse for a warm bath." Her dress fell to the floor around her feet and, without a glance downward, she drew a loose robe around herself. Leya could say no more than a shocked "but..." before the door closed behind Siliera and she was on her way to the bathchambers.

Jirah snaked his way through the crowd, searching for Aleyn. Where had his blackclad friend run off to? This was a Wyvern party, and definitely not a time to be panicking. Well, it was a fine time to be panicking, but hardly a convenient one. But Aleyn was nowhere to be seen. He'd let Alaeha do the hunting. Kaitlyn was dashing through the crowd at an enviable speed, in his direction... "Caught you!" He laughed as he snatched her wrist as she tried to run past. And was nearly knocked over as her momentum dragged him six feet farther, bowling over countless Pennites in the process. "WHOA! What got into you?" He asked. "Koolaid. Yummy Koolaid!" She shouted at him. "Leggo!" "Hun, this is a Wyvern party. Ayshela would skin me alive if I let you go running around alone in here." "But... Aunty Ayshela said you were a thief." She looked at him suspiciously. "I was. But it's fun, see? I've picked up a few tricks in here. I know a few of these men snuck in here without paying their fee, so how about we go collect something for Melba?" Jirah grinned at her. "Oooh... But how?" "Like this!" He pointed at Random_Male_Passerby_07, speaking just loudly enough for Kaitlyn to hear. "Watch now..." He reached out, and smirked with satisfaction as a pair of warm black cotton boxers materialized in his hand. "You don't spend months with this many wizards without learning something." He winked at her, stuffing his prize into a pouch as Random_Male_Passerby_07 suddenly blanched. "Let's see who else looks suspicious, shall we?" "Yeah! Can I have more Kool-aid?"

Showing off one of my psychotic male characters Hey there, Tiger, I know that this will come as one letter among many. I've seen your image in the eyes of several men over the last few hours. And a woman or two, as well. I don't know what it is, but there's something compelling me to write this to you. Many have written to you of your eyes, or your felininity. None of that matters to me, however, so much as one thing: your countenance. The fact that a simple glance at you caused Finnius to faint seemed laughable at the time I saw it, but I've since come to appreciate it in an entirely different light. Why, with a bit of makeup and some chemicals, the two of us could knock an entire theatre unconscious, so that I would only have to kill the people I wanted to, rather than the entire audience. In short, I love you. I apologize if this may seem tactless, but I'm afraid that words cannot describe how much I want you there, at my side. With all my heart and soul... (Which isn't much, since I sold them to the rulers of the underworld, but it's the thought that counts, right?) Arian