Finnius

*snugses and hopes everything turns out for the best*

Drummondo: Nope, I just used those as examples... and because it rhymed. Sort of. Anywho... BIC: "As snowflakes fall, and melt away, So must our game change too. But be not bummed, be bright and gay, The next one's meant just for you!" And with that the pixie flares the cloth, And covers the glass yet once again, And when the sheet is pulled aloft, There sits a pointed, old-styled Pen.

A little blue tent sits off to one side of the Carnival, piles of snow drifting up and over one side, creating an indigo-lined igloo. A sign outside invites all inside, whereon a tiny pixie flits to and fro, waiting for all who enter. Once a small crowd has formed, she clears her throat and begins. "Gathered here, in groups or singles, Wanting geld, or maybe fun, Or maybe both; but I'll not linger, Or, least not til this poem's done. My name is Nymsy, here on loan, Because my boss is occupied, I'll run his tent til he gets back, Or til the Carnival has died." Here she shrugs, and grins a bit, And pulls out chairs and stools and stuff, And beckons all around to sit, And flits back in a hurried huff. "The game is simple, so he says, But me, I find it quite the tease, Describe these things in different ways, Without their names, if you please." And in the middle poofs a table, With a glass and cloth on it, And several quills and bits of paper, On which to write haiku or sonnet. The pixie grins and pulls the cloth, Which shines more bluely than a lake, And when it clears, there pure and soft, One single, perfect, white snowflake. *** OOC: Ok, here're the rules in plain English. I'll give you an object, the first one being a snowflake. Your challenge is to write a descriptive poem about the object, without using its name, or any part of its name in said poem. So for instance, the words "Snow" and "Flake" are both no-goes in this one. Poems are worth 5 geld. Every day or two I'll change the object, and you can write another poem for another 5 geld. Enjoy!

The Great Hall of Hammer Keep loomed wide above Gavin, and he craned his neck to see into its high corners. Hryn slipped a heel back to step on Gavin’s foot, shooting him a narrow, dangerous look. Gavin nodded curtly and lowered his eyes. The stairs from which they had come disappeared into the background, giving way to a hurried mass of people. A man and woman in the grey of Fexus’ personal guards stood watch over the massive front gates. Their eyes tracked Gavin and Hryn steadily, cutting through the bustle of secretaries, chamber maids, and message carriers. The man gave the woman a knowing glance and a nod, and then left his post, weaving through the throng to walk aside Hryn, matching his step. Gavin dared a darted look at their companion. He was a short man with dark skin and jet-black hair. He had the look of a man to whom laughter came easily, but kept it now bottled. Hryn’s head stayed forward until they had reached the stairs at the other end of the hall and ascended to the second level of Hammer Keep. ------------------- At the top of the stairs, Hryn turned quickly and grabbed the short man by the collar of his grey uniform shirt, forcing him abruptly against the wall. Hryn smiled thinly as he recognized the man’s face. “Machen, Machen…” Hryn clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I do hope you aren’t going to try and stop me from finding Fexus. Are you, Machen?” Much to Hryn’s surprise, the short, dark-skinned man’s shoulders slumped in relief near as soon as he saw Hryn’s face. Machen’s eyes turned upwards and a tiny laugh escaped his lips. “It’s you… we’d all but given up hope!” Hryn’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but he released Machen’s shirt. “We?” “Kira and myself. Hryn, since you left on your last mission, Fexus has begun acting… strangely. He’s locked himself in his study for days on end, reading books. He’s been spending more and more time on the Top Cliffs, watching the Falls. He’s even more close-mouthed than usual. We’re starting to get worried.” “Is that all?” “No… he’s been sending Fixers away from Hammerfall with increasing regularity lately. First you, to Cold Port, then Jani and Coral west to Alt. Kurin was sent east, into the desert, to search for some dead city, and soon after he came back, he was sent out again with Bria to the south of the Althinean Island. Then Fexus recalled Nanten to active duty, and sent Matthew into the caves of Mortani… nobody’s heard from him since, and we think he’s dead by now, or worse. Kira, myself, Nanten, and Jasoph. We’re the only Fixers left in Hammerfall… or were, until you arrived.” “Nanten is dead.” Machen stared blankly for a moment, then shook his head and went on. “Yes, well… with the orders he was given, it’s not surprising.” Hryn gave a short bark of a laugh, his face flashing to a stoney annoyance directly after. “And where do I fit into all this?” “The Fixers met last night. We’ve come to a decision… some time ago, Fexus declared you outlaw. He claimed that you had thrown in with the Dead Council and were plotting his death.” Hryn turned from Machen, the heels of his boots thudding against the stone floor as he continued down the hallway. Machen and Gavin caught up just in time for Hryn to turn his head to Machen, give a short nod, and speak curtly. “Go on.” “Yes, well… whatever the case, it’s become obvious that Fexus wants you dead, and that you share the sentiment. Hryn, the Order of Fixers has decided that the time has come to stop taking sides. Or at least, to stop taking certain sides.” ------------------- Loryn’s eyes were stuck on the stone relief, constantly shifting and changing. It had remained fixed on the image of a man, Fexus… Fexus with wings and black eyes. Gerod had turned towards the onyx orb of Balphinus shortly after identifying the man, and had begun chanting some barely audible mantra in a language with which Loryn was unfamiliar. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the orb, and so he hadn’t noticed the changes taking place on the wall behind him. The stone flowed like water, shifted like waves of sand in a spring gale. The man’s face had changed, growing harder and more lined. His eyes had cleared, and for a moment, Loryn was sure that he would open his mouth and begin speaking. The carving on the wall had turned its head towards Gerod, then melted into the clearly recognizable cliffs of Hammerfall. The cliffs had given way to more monstrous things… images of a man with limbs that constantly shifted and rearranged themselves. Loryn’s eyes could scarcely follow what was happening to him. The horrid form finally collapsed outwards, bursting into the image of a man with whom Loryn was intimately familiar. His face was set and hard, and he wore a cloak which swished around his ankles. Hryn… and there at his side, Gavin, with his jet eyes downcast beneath a cloak similar to the one his mentor wore. They were approaching a door, plain and wooden. There was nothing remarkable about it at all, but still Loryn could not shake the feeling of something terrible lurking past that door. Hryn reached out to open it, and Gavin’s hand shot to his shoulder. The boy’s lips moved, and Hryn’s hand closed around the doorknob. Gavin shrugged, then turned his face, briefly but noticeably. He turned his face, and looked at Loryn, stared her in the face for the smallest flicker. The wall went blank, Gavin’s smile melting off after everything else had gone. ------------------- “Certain sides, Machen? By which you mean Fexus’ side, correct?” “I could. I could also mean that the Order has decided to stop taking any sides but its own. But that’s not really the point, either.” “Then get to the point. This is getting tiresome.” Machen cleared his throat nervously, shooting a furtive look at Gavin. “The point is that we’d like to make you an offer. The Order of Fixers needs a leader, Hryn… someone who already has a name for himself, whether for good or ill. We think you’re the best man for the job.” Hryn stopped in front of a heavy oak door, and turned to consider the dark-skinned man. He shook his head slowly. He looked Machen over, searched for any trace of betrayal, or dishonesty, and found none. Gavin stood silently, distractedly staring down the hall. “I’ll think on it. Mind you, though… whatever name I have left is hardly a name at all. Most within the city believe the name of Hryn to be a child’s tale, a thing to cow the weak and frighten fools.” “It’s more of a name than most of us have.” “Fine. We’ll discuss it later. For now, return to your post and forget you ever saw me.” Machen saluted briefly, an open hand over his heart, then stepped backwards and turned. He was gone in a matter of seconds. Hryn turned to the door, and extended a hand to open it. Gavin’s hand darted out, latching onto Hryn’s shoulder. The boy grinned lopsidedly, and turned back towards his former teacher. “Fexus isn’t in there.” Hryn’s hand closed on the doorknob, and turned. Gavin shrugged and glanced back down the hall, then followed Hryn into the room. ------------------- “Darkness drives me onward, who walks in light leads blindly. Death I shall become, if life shall be denied me.” Gerod Loghis forced himself to his feet, wiping the dust from his knees and turning towards Loryn. “Tell me, Dessina… do you know who said that?” Loryn shook her head slowly, still staring at the mural wall. The stone slowly spiraled now, a pinprick of dusk growing wider in the center. “The couplet is attributed to Sospita, but the sentiment… it has been a point of contention for years. Some say that Holy Althis left it with his foremost scribe shortly after his death, others attribute it to Natali Grass-stalker, upon the realization of his curse…” Loghis sighed heavily and raised an eyebrow at Loryn’s vacant stare. “What’s wrong, Dessina? Surely you’re not still upset over the destruction of Cold Port? Believe me, when you live as long as I have, you’ll-“ Loryn’s hand stretched out shakily, pointing towards the wall, to which Gerod now turned. The stone had formed into distinctly spiraling clouds, meeting at a center-point which darkened and widened with each passing moment. The center of the black disc which grew on the wall held a small, irregular spot of light. An ever-shifting form, now a wailing mouth, now a bloodshot and water-rimmed eye, now a warning hand. Loghis dropped to his knees, his mouth opening wide. The stone clouds burst open, and an icy wind ripped through the chamber, howling and tearing at the flesh of its two dead occupants. ------------------- The room was dark, but Hryn had known it would be. It reeked of blood and magebane, which Hryn had half-suspected it might. The window was open, and Hryn had counted on it. Hryn sank to his heels, his hands reaching blindly on the floor. Fexus’ study revealed itself to Hryn’s senses. The smooth carpet, of which there was very little in Hammer Keep, was disturbed. Thin rivulets of fiber ran toward the massive desk in the center. Fexus had been pacing here. The scent of oil and struck flint came faintly from a corner. Hryn made his way slowly towards it and fumbled until he struck a spark. The room lit, a tall candle stand revealing itself to Hryn’s eyes… and beyond it, a slumped body with shiny, silvery jaws. The next few moments played out slowly. The sparks fell to the floor, and a thin trail of fire wound itself towards the body. Gavin leapt behind the oak desk, and the trail of fire groped its way up the man’s leg. Hryn dove to the side, towards the far wall. ------------------- The trail of fire fought its way up the man’s chest, and in that instant, his eyes opened wide. A sound like thunder forced its way out of his jaws, cloaking the room in fire, sweeping the desk onto its side. Gavin narrowly scuttled out of the way, exposing his cloak to the flames billowing around the desk. A fierce, sweltering moment passed, and silence returned to the room. Gavin’s head peered out from behind the desk. The office was illuminated in the dim glow of miniature bonfires which had sprung up around the carpet’s edges. Hryn was nowhere to be seen. Gavin staggered into the middle of the room, his eyes scanning side to side, looking in every corner for any trace of his former teacher. The door hung on its hinges, lying slanted halfway out of the room. The sound of footsteps echoed from the lower levels.

Not too much time, as I'm running late for a prior engagement already, but I just wanted to say: Happy, Happy, Happy Appy! Er... I mean Birthday...

*snugglehugs and chicken soup* What apologies, 'Shela? Rest up, get well, catch up on your reading... In short: Take care of yourself, after all, you're the only you we have. 'Twould be a shame to lose ye.

Happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, (Appy?), happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy- Birthday! (And lemme tell you, that many happys is likely to give you Carpal Tunnel... probably shoulda copy and pasted. Ouch.)

Woo-boy. *tugs collar* Is it hot in here, or is it just me? Ok, a few days after the election, as I was a good bit sore directly after... 'course, that could've had something to do with how I heard, but more on that later... So a few days after the election, I'm in here again. I still think that Bush isn't a good president, and never was. That's my personal belief, and it comes from two things. The first being that, while he likes to get all vocal on how he's taking action to stop terrorism worldwide, until 9/11 he ignored every important report that crossed his desk in favor of playing golf. After 9/11... yes, he sent troops into Afghanistan. And then pulled them out shortly after, their job unfinished, to attack a country without any kind of UN approval under the blanket of peacekeeping. If nothing else, that's very dangerous, very stupid foreign policy. WW2 was started the same way. Concessions to Hitler, remember? I see bad things in the next four years. That's the foreign side... the other side, I think, is more important. As I mentioned before, I live in a state that is completely controlled by the Republican party. And I do mean completely. Every sheriff, every school-board member, almost every seat in every local legislature. Lemme tell you about our economy. For starters, our labor laws and health codes get overlooked very easily. I worked in a plant that had a fine yellow dust floating around, and nobody told us it was dangerous, or told us we should buy face masks. I started coughing up blood a week and a half into that job. I'd say that's a good reason to quit. The plant is still there, still unsafe, and still gets government aid. The place I work now is hideously understaffed. Why? Because our owner has to stay under a certain cost/labor percentage. If he goes over it, they'll shut him down. With that in mind, did DHEC say anything when our air conditioning was broken, and it was over 90 degrees? Or when our septic tanks backed up into our working area? Which is also food-service, mind you. Did they say anything when our hoods stopped working, and we had carbon monoxide flooding our kitchen? Nope. Why? Because DHEC around here is controlled by a party that cares more about output than safety. Despite the above concerns, we have an A rating... 100, actually. A Republican economy is hell on the working class. There are no medical benefits to draw on unless you can prove, without a doubt, that what's wrong with you is a direct result of work. And even then, the benefits are negligable. For instance, I threw out my back hauling sanitize. They sent me to the health campus, took some X-Rays, and gave me vicodin. Vicodin, for those of you that don't know, is a painkiller. Aspirin on crack. I took one and it knocked me out for a day and a half. Thanks. I could've gotten some ibuprofin and done it myself. As for how I heard about Bush getting re-elected, cementing the entirely Republican US... I was at work, by myself, getting swamped with customers. I worked alone that day for five hours. We never had more than two people there, and trust me when I say we need at least three. Next time you go to a restaurant, count the number of people you see working. Then imagine if all of that were one guy. Would you feel sorry for him? Maybe. Would you leave? If my last two days are any indicator, probably not. When I heard that the Republicans had won the House, the Senate, and the President, I felt physically ill. Yes, the economy might get better overall. But my back'll be broken before it is. Or would be if I weren't moving to Canada. Anywho, to make it clear: This is not an attack on any one person, place, or thing. This is not a stand about personal freedom, separation of Church and State, civil rights, or any other imaginary things. This is a prediction. The US has four years to endure under the weight of the Republican party. There will likely be much praise for President Bush, as there is always praise for the dictator. History will not be so kind. Watch the economy, see where the money goes. It goes to the people that already have it. The rich will get richer, the poor will get deader. Bush knows this, or at least his puppeteers do. But they benefit, and so they do not care. Wow, that was much more Keatsian than I'd intended. True, though. /me sets mode to -soapbox

"So that's what sardonic means... wow." The little blue man adjusts his mask, blushing purple-ly. "And here I just thought it meant bemused, or something. Color me stupid." The diminutive indigo hominid makes a sheepish half-bow to Vahk, apologizing for the glance, which seems to've vacated the scene of the crime. And speaking of vacating the scene... An unearthly giggling wafts down the hall, following on the heals of a dwarven war-screech and the sound of something breaking. The shockwave following after makes most of the assembled former-partygoers look for better purchase to keep their feet. "I think we might want to start looking towards the obviously destructive elements here..." OOC: A vote for Gnarlitch. 'Cause I'd like the house to stay in one piece long enough to get out of it.

Wow... Y'know, I love and hate these questions. Love 'em because they make me think, hate 'em for the same reason. Not really a violent, loathing kind of hate, more an annoyance kind. Anywho, I'm rambling. On to the question! Well, seeing as it's life threatening, I'd have to assume that this means it's not necessarily deadly. I think, for as long as I could, I'd try to tough it out. Hope for remission, or that I could learn to cope. For two reasons, I'd do this: First and foremost, I'm a writer. Blindness is not very conducive to that, although I could dictate and/or improve my typing. (Which isn't bad, mind you, but I do still slip up more often than I'd like.) The writing, though, isn't really what would bother me most... it's the things I'd miss. Seeing a certain someone smile, or watching a sunset, being able to draw Popey Ramone doodles... don't ask, just assume they're funny. Then, there's the fact that I love music. I'm classically trained, and do still (occasionally) play. Now, deafness didn't stop Beethoven... but I'm no Beethoven. Aside from which, many of the things I love come from hearing the responses I get when I crack a (usually pretty cheesey) joke for a loved one. I love the sound of laughter, (Well... most laughter. This one guy at work just sounds psychotic.) and I want to hear (when I finally have 'em) my childrens' first words. In the end, I'm not sure I could choose. I think I'd swing deafness, just because, as has been previously mentioned, treatment for hearing is much farther along than that for sight. But I'm not sure. Seriously. The end.

"There are three people here who, who, uh, help me out here." Finnius glances back, grinning sardonically. "There are three people here who, unwittingly or not, are trying to hurt the rest of us? Well, we should make that two now, shouldn't we?" The little blue mage shakes his head slowly as Crypt is taken away, closing his eyes and sighing heavily. "Well, on the up side, at least that's one down. Which means whatever infects the other two should be making itself manifest rather sooner than later... probably getting very antsy." The indigo semi-mage smiles nervously at 'Shela and Mynx, before glancing around. "Where's Merry?"

*looks up* Electile Disfunction... Mr. P, you do kill me sometimes.

The little blue man scuttles over to the prone soul-vampire, kneeling to make sure he's all right. After a cursory examination, and a small tremble, Finnius stands, turning to face the others. "I'd say it's a good thing he was technically dead to begin with, because otherwise he'd have some severely punctured organs... these pranks are getting more serious, it would seem." The diminutive blue mage picks up one of the ropes which made up the net, sliding it through his hands and trailing the knotting with a finger. "Excellent workmanship, whatever else can be said... I seem to remember that dwarves are good with ropes, as a natural result of cave-dwelling." Finnius glances at Gnarlitch, putting pieces together in his mind haphazardly. "And weren't you fishing for something in your pack earlier? Hmm..." OOC: A vote for Gnarlitch.

Well, I've been watching this one for a good long while, even to the point of voraciously scouring the local news for signs of partisan-ness... er... not that that's a word. Anywho, my problem with the current Presidential platform (Bush/Cheney/Ashcroft) is the same as Quincunx's, essentially. We have a group of individuals who are in a position to create legislature, and who are abusing that power by basically rolling back the laws that separate Church and State. Not to mention that I keep coming back to a kind of disturbing question: Assume that Gore had gotten elected, or that 9/11 had happened under Clinton. Assume that the Democratic president had then gone after Bin Laden, same as Bush. Assume that the Democratic president had then essentially removed the majority of that task force from looking for him in order to attack a different country under false pretenses. (And yes, that's pretty much how I see Iraq. I remember Bush constantly emphasizing that Hussein had weapons of mass destruction, without any kind of intelligence from the UN Inspectors to coroborate that. Did Hussein have WMD's? Nope. Did the UN approve our going into Iraq? Nope. Bad policy? Yup.) Assume that the same amount of people; US troops, Iraqi insurgents, and Iraqi civilians, had died in said glass war. What would the Republican Congress do? Would they impeach the Democratic president? Call him a war criminal? I kind of think so. On a more local level, the Republican party finally looks to be losing some of its control over South Carolina, with the death(?) ((I think he's just hibernating.)) of Strom Thurmond. Hollings, our current senior senator, is retiring this year, and the two people looking to fill his spot are one Jim DeMint <R> and Inez Tennanbaum (D). DeMint has gone on the record saying he wants to remove gay and lesbian teachers from classrooms, and that he'd like to remove the federal income tax and replace it with a 23% sales tax. (Which, by the way, would end up substantially raising taxes for a good 80% of the SC population.) Tennanbaum wants a short-term tax increase, to pay for improvements to our education system, which never got most of the money that the Lottery Commission <R> said it would. All in all, after living in a state run by Republicans for the last... er... ever... I've pretty much come to hate them. Civil rights, labor laws, separation of Church and State, these things mean very little right now. For instance, we still have Sunday Blue Laws. You can't buy and sell alchohol on Sundays. No reason for that, except that the religious leaders are putting pressure on the political leaders. Anyway, imma get off my soap-box now. Danke. Editted because neither Jim DeMint, nor Lottery Commission are registered trademarks.

If clinging is a sin, Then of it I am guilty, For I cling night and day, Like a flower that is wilting, From lack of warmest sun. With neither shape nor form, I cling to thoughts of you, And hold on to your mem'ry, Maybe sappy, but it's true, And my resolve is firm. With you I'll spend my days, In good times and in bad, With you my heart will stay, Whether sane or whether mad, I'm yours, for now and always.

The little blue mage gently probes at the seal on his forehead, fingers coming away sticky and red. He sniffs them gingerly, then takes a lick. "Cherry!" The Lord of the Pants raises an eyebrow suspiciously. "Err... it's sealing wax..." "Cherry flavored sealing wax?" "No, just the regular kind, far as I know..." The little blue man sheepishly shrugs, takes another lick, and wanders underneath a tree to take a nap, mumbling behind him as he does so. "Well, I like it anyway."

The little blue man (The one who's naturally blue.) starts, turns, and promptly forgets what he was going to say; settling instead for a cocked head at the rescue party. "Evening, folks! Aegon, lovely as ever. Tam! Still dead? Erm... well, I would guess so, s'not really something you get over, is it?" Several of the assembled mages cough politely and snicker, or roll their eyes. Finnius turns a lovely shade of purple and lowers his eyes slightly. "Okok, so I got better... once or twice... twelve times, tops. I think. Hey, anybody else notice this house is haunted?" The little purple man turns to the walls, scored and stained by years of disuse, and trails a hand along the splintered and deformed wood-grain. "It was the summer of that year, I don't remember which. I was young then, just a little boy. Before the blue, even. The woods were deep and dark, and oddly comforting in their way, but full of unspoken menace, too. Strange sighs echoed from the trees, and the great mounds of dirt which I assumed were hills groaned under some internal pressure." Finnius' tone is strangely somber now, funereal and bereft of his normal joviality. "I could hardly keep myself away, for strange and terrible as those mounds felt to me, they had a pull which my young mind could hardly resist. I was entranced. I still remember the first time I saw them. I'd stayed out far past my usual twilight, and in the shaded afterglow of moonrise, I saw them. Standing far out, on the mounds, silvery shapes which called to me. "As I approached closer, I could distinctly see the rips and tears which let the cold stars shine through their bodies. They still called me, still beckoned wordlessly, but I could see their faces now. Twisted and distorted, like something seen through a fishbowl. A low, almost inaudible chant emenated, not from the figures, but from the mounds themselves. "Can you feel the pain and suffering, I'm giving to all of you? Can you feel the waves upon us, And it's all my fault? Can you see the sons and fathers, Like devils all around? Good people are crying out my name, Children die and it's all the same, I'm your god, I'm under there, People die and I just can't care. I'm the one they worship! I'm the one they worship, even now!" The little blue man removes his hand from the wall, and turns to face the rest. "I came back there, years later... after the blue, and before the Pen. I asked around, and found that a powerful necromancer had inhabitted the area that even today is left to wilderness. No one now living remembers his name, only his victims who chant worship ceaselessly, undieing." Finnius shakes his head, then grins lopsidedly. "Hey, anybody else notice this house is haunted?" OOC: No vote... yet... mwahahaaa!!

The stone doors shut behind Hryn with an echoing boom, the former Fixer taking a quick step down the hall before stopping and turning his eyes back to the slouching form of Gavin Althane, arms crossed across his chest and leaning against the wall. “I was wondering how long it would take you to get finished in there.” The younger man’s jaws cracked in a wide yawn, and he stretched his arms over his head. “Nicely done, by the way.” Hryn paused, his brows furrowing together. “I thought you were going off to rampage through Hammer Keep and kill Fexus.” “Of course you did. Because that’s just what he’s expecting me to do; and you still think that I can’t see through his plans.” “Because you can’t, boy.” Gavin pushed himself off from the wall, his heels clicking on the stone as he started down the hallway. “If you say so, oh Mighty Hryn. In any case, are you coming along or not?” Hryn sighed and followed after Gavin, quickly catching up to him and glancing over as they walked. “You said ‘Nicely done.’ You were watching me?” Gavin tapped his temples, grinning. “Of course I was. We’re both tied into Balphinus… I can see everything you see, hear every word you say… I just can’t hear what’s being said to you. But I gather you sufficiently cowed Natayu?” “Wait… how long have you been spying on me?” “I wouldn’t exactly call it spying, Hryn… more like eavesdropping.” “I fail to see the difference.” “Oh, don’t get sullen, now… after all, we still have Fexus to deal with before we can start bickering with each other.” “Fine.” The two walked through the eerily silent halls without speaking; the only sounds the soft susurrus of their breathing. Upwards they walked, through empty halls and abandoned studies. As they rounded a corner halfway up the Keep, and approached the door which bled into the kitchens, a wretched stench enveloped them, a smell like burning wood and sulfur. Hryn’s eyes narrowed and he pulled his shirt up over his nose, enclosing the lower half of his face in cloth and motioning for Gavin to do the same. Hryn crept out a hand to push the wooden doors open, peering into the dark mass of confusion… the kitchens had been half-destroyed at some point, and Fexus had not seen fit to rebuild them, although it looked as if someone had made a few futile attempts to clean up the remains which lay strewn over tables or scattered about the floor in pieces. Gavin’s black eyes glanced over to Hryn, disgust painted across his face. From deep within the kitchens, a scrabbling noise coupled with a shallow sobbing wail emanated. Hryn’s eyes narrowed further, becoming no more than slits, and he whispered lowly towards Gavin. “Keep your head about you, boy… no telling what manner of creature would live among corpses.” Gavin cocked an eyebrow and whispered back. “Is that an insult?” “Just stay alert… like it or not, we have to go through here.” Hryn slipped inside the doorway, inching his way along the wall with Gavin following along at his side. Gradually, the wavering wail grew into choked, incoherent words. And that was when Hryn saw her… one of the kitchen maids, crouched among the corpses, desperately trying to force a forearm into her dustbin. She muttered and babbled to herself, her face covered in soot and blood, deep runs of color down her cheeks marking the path of last weeks’ tears. Gavin saw her a moment later, as Hryn detached himself from the wall, and walked slowly towards her. Gavin stood spellbound as he watched Hryn, the most cold-blooded and ruthless of killers he had ever met, stoop gingerly beside her and gently take the severed limb from her hand. The woman started at Hryn’s touch, jumping back with a yelp of surprise. Her eyes stared blankly at Hryn, clouded over with dementia, and then gradually cleared. She stared at Hryn for several seconds, eyes widening in shock, or fear, or shame. And then she collapsed into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Hryn lowered his head to hers, rubbed the side of his face against hers, picking up a large smear of blackish red across his left cheek in doing so. When he spoke, it was low and tender, almost fatherly. “C’mon… stand up for me. Let’s get you out of here.” “But…,” she sniffed, “F-Fexus… said t-to c-clean up the k-kitchen.” Hryn’s eyes hardened for a moment, then turned soft once more. “Did he now? Well… never you worry about that. Here, come with me.” Hryn half-lifted her under her arms, getting her to her feet and putting an arm around her shoulders. He glanced over at Gavin, still dumb stricken against the wall and motioned with his head to follow. They picked a path out of the kitchens, and up into the ground-floors of Hammer Keep, Hryn’s arm around the poor woman the whole way. ------------------- The top-cliffs of Hammer Keep gusted with a chill breeze, whipping the spray from the Falls across Fexus’ face, stinging his eyelids as he sat cross-legged and waiting. Here, where Fexus kept his sanctuary, the rain did not touch. A sheet of water fell hard just at the edge of the cliffs, but no drop would touch the hard granite. Hryn was coming, he could feel it. The man was relentless; Fexus had made sure of that… he’d never thought that Hryn would betray him, though. Fexus’ mind flashed back on the chain of events which had led him to this point… to his childhood in the simpering, two-faced courts of House Hloran, to the young man whom he’d betrayed to bring that House low… Sometimes, in the nights, Fexus still regretted killing Mallon Hloran. Mallon had been the last, the only one left with access to the flaring orb which Fexus worshipped. And he’d been willing to share it; he’d been willing to compromise. Fexus’ hand reflexively moved up to the pendant around his neck, the carved lion and snake. It was a nervous habit he’d developed over the years… whenever he was deep in thought, or worried, or just bored, his hand would flip the disc over and over. Fexus often mused on how it looked like the lion and snake were dancing… or fighting. Fexus had often thought of Hryn and Nanten as his lion and snake. Nanten the snake, who could infiltrate and deceive with the gentle ease of a spring rain turning into a thunderstorm. Hryn, then, was the lion… he had never failed in his appointed tasks, had never wavered from his duties. And that, Fexus thought, was what scared him most about the man. ------------------- The woman laid still now, her breathing stable and deep. She’d fallen asleep almost as soon as Hryn had led her to a bed, tucked away in a tiny room off one of the main halls. Gavin watched with cold unease as Hryn washed her face gently, so as not to wake her. The layers of soot and blood came away to reveal the face of a middle-aged woman, who may have been quite pretty in other circumstances. Gavin caught the older man’s eye and motioned towards the door. Hryn nodded silently and stood, following Gavin into the hall. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Hryn’s face hardened into its normal stone. Gavin stood quietly for a moment, listening to the rain pounding down on the walls of Hammer Keep. Apparently, the light rain they’d come through had intensified. A crack of thunder accentuated the silence. Hryn’s eyes shifted to the stairs at the end of the hall. “Above this floor, the Keep will likely be guarded.” Hryn pulled the hood of his cloak up, shrouding his face in darkness. “Keep your face covered, boy… the guards might not know what black eyes mean, but they’ll likely not take the time to ask. And I’d rather not have to kill them all.” Gavin pulled his hood up, remaining silent. “The stairs will lead us to the Great Hall, a reception room of sorts… from there, we have five floors up until Fexus’ study. I doubt we’ll find him there, but it’s worth a look. After that, three more floors before the top-cliffs. Now keep up, keep your head down, and keep quiet.” Hryn started off down the hall, his cloak flaring out behind him as another crack of thunder echoed from outside.

Finnius chuckles at Crypt's antics, shaking his head sardonically. "If you're going to keep a cursed book, at least be careful with it... after all, the last thing we need is Azathoth waking up in the middle of the Courtyard." Ayshela glances over at the little blue man, raising an eyebrow. "What was that about Alzorath?" "Not Alzorath, Azathoth... y'know, insanely swirling mass of nuclear chaos who burns at the core of the universe? We went to high school together... he had the biggest overbite you've ever seen." 'Shela stands still for a moment, then raises the other eyebrow and lowers the first one. "Is there anyone you didn't go to school with?" Finnius grins absently, shrugging and pulling his cloak tighter around himself. "Y'know, I'm not sure..."

Ayshela shrugs, looking at Finnius. "How about some exploring of our own? That door we were going to try...?" The little blue man nods. "Gwaihir? Elwen?" asks again Ayshela. Gwaihir sighs, but joins them silently. "Hmmm... I'm not entirely sure that splitting up is a good idea right now. Granted, if there's someone behind this, and I'm not saying there is, it'll give that person less targets. But it'll also give them less witnesses, which means more chances to hurt someone." The little blue man looks over the group, grinning at Dean. "And since when have I dealt in harmful pranks? Ok, ok, so there was that one time that I got all possessed and demony, but I'm fairly sure that I'm not possessed right now." The diminutive semi-mage nods towards the glowering forms of Vahktang and Cryptomancer. "Now those two, on the other hand..." Finnius once again shakes his head. "Of course, that'd be the obvious choice, and the obvious is very seldom true around here." Cocking his head and grinning one last time, the little blue man winks at Ayshela. "So I'm with her." (OOC: A vote for YanYan.)

"We be in a dungeon, cuteness!" "All the more reason to get out of it, wouldn't you say?" Gnarlitch, Mynx, and Cryptomancer start at the sound of a rather bemused Finnius Mustardio Jalopini Canard O'Harpy, who had somehow managed to sneak up on them. The little blue man unties his black cloak, slings it over one shoulder, and grins lopsidedly at the three. "You three seen Ayshela by any chance?" Moments after catching her breath, a still-rather-inebriated CheerMynx points in the direction of Ayshela, pondering the choices of stairs, doors, and other assorted portals. The little blue semi-mage nods thankfully and heads over, giving 'Shela a warning pat on the shoulder, so as not to frighten her too much. "Quite the house, neh?" "Yeah..." Ayshela gestures at the many exit/entrances, noting that it's a good many to cover, to which the little blue man nods. "What a conundrum this is... ah! Think I have just the thing for ya." The litte blue man digs around in his pocket for a moment, producing a small scarlet-tinted pair of bifocals. "What're those?" "Rose colored glasses, what else?"

Ooooo... Twenty-one's a fun age to be! Or so I'm told, anyway. Slept through my 21st, as I was horribly ill. Here's hoping yours is much nicer, and mucus-free!

Actually, if you don't mind spelunking back into the depths of the Banquet Hall, I try and write at least one Pen piece for each season/holiday. Just figured I'd try and use this one to buy off mah Weenie Award. Glad you all enjoyed it!

'Twas autumn, dreary, cold and grey, With leaves of brown, Snow swirling round, The cold and chill were here to stay; And death for plants was raining down. A Wyvern, clad in wool, in fleece, Was out for geld, His mind was filled, With thoughts of greed and wealthy peace; And down the Pen-Keep snow rapelled. Around the Keep, young Tanny crept, A wolf in fur, No cold for her, Comfy in driven snow, she slept; And still the snow fell, white and pure. Gentle Pered gave Pages tours, Around the Halls, 'Twas fun for all, For he and Zool had great rapport; And the snow continued to fall. Gyr and Sal, in Custos Manor, Sat up all night, By candlelight, While Minta Rose started, stammered; And played in falling, flaking white. And Aegon walked with Yui-chan, In shadows dark, Through Courtyard park, While Tzimmy laughs, and freezing stands; As naked as a Spring-day's lark. And Merelas melts snow, it's true, A fire-elf's hot, No snow he's caught, And still, poor Finnius is blue; Regardless if he's cold or not.

So first off, let me say this: when a large group of assorted mages, some of whom you are even familiar with, begins filing into a mysterious tunnel with Zool-knows-what at the end, one becomes distinctly reminded that there are far worse things in the depths of Terra, whether New or Old, than mere moles or earthworms. Secondly, when one is dealing with the grounds of the Mighty Pen, or those of any of its myriad inhabitants/visitors, the chances of those "far worse things" unearthing to wreak bloody revenge become distinctly multiplied. Besides, the party was nice, but the siren song of scotch had been calling my name all night, and I wasn't about to make an unfortunate repeat of my semi-infamous striptease at the last costume party I had attended. Still, several of the afore-mentioned mages were quite capable of defending themselves and/or others, and so for a short time I milled about the party, making small talk with the remaining partygoers and attempting to find Ayshela... I'd noticed her earlier, and thought she might like a dance. But Ayshela was nowhere to be found, and there was still this niggling doubt at the back of my mind as I mingled. This isn't safe, Finny, and you know it... Most likely not, but what could I really do to help? After all, they've got at least two competent mages with them. I can barely light a rug fire, and that's on a good day. You and your stupid rug fire! Honestly, Finn, why are you always so down on yourself? Sure, you're surrounded by god-like beings who can bend time to their will, or call up living flame, or snap the threads of fate like the tiniest twigs, but so what? You've managed fine so far. ... Fine, be like that. But think about it this way; as many times as you've died, you've always managed to come back. How many other "mere mortals" can say they've seen the things that you have? Er- Not many! And besides... you were a mage once. Not the best of mages, granted, but what you lacked in power you more than made up for in finess. And somewhere in that absent-mind of yours, you still remember how to do all that stuff. All you have to do is give yourself the benefit of the doubt once in a while. But- Now get in that tunnel, and try to make sure nobody gets hurt! Fine, fine... bully. Or something like that, anyway. As you can tell, my internal dialogue is often a bit... divided. On this occasion, however, as I adjusted my white mask and swirling cloak, it led me to an unknown tunnel beneath Custos Manor, and into the darkness below.