dragonqueen

Well, it's officially 2005 in New Jersey. Almost made it to New York this year! Happy New Year, everyone, and may it bring you whatever you wish!

True name's held close to the heart. But you can call her Tanny. Looks like me on the outside. Turn around and think again. Shapes and magic are her arts. Her favorite shape, the wolf. Her namesake, tanuki hide. Or she's human-shaped, like most. Her words you need take to heart, For she's a feel for magic. Her sense for risk's bonafide. Truly, a valuable friend. Yes, she is a case apart. Not one to follow the crowd, Left home to see the world wide. One who's a wolf, in and outside. Tanny always knows who she is, Though she be wolf, tanuki or human. But this one's not so sure of his biz; It's hard to know when you're strange and inhuman. This creature be the strangest yet; You've never seen his like before. It's been said he might make an adorable pet. He has not one nor two nor three forms but four. Ladies and gents, I am pleased to present Trey, the colorful, cuddly quafter. You see, though his intentions were quite well-meant, He hasn't been the same thereafter. He's roughly the shape of a koala bear, But his snout and tail are those of a pig. Of gorgeous butterfly wings he's a pair. And no, that's not a misplaced zebra wig. As to what happened, you must ask him, For I'm afraid it's a bit of a delicate matter. But his character's as tall as any jim's, Say what you will of Trey the quafter. Edit: Sweetcherrie(Trey)'s poem added and linked to Tanuchan's. Edit: Correcting minor inconsistencies in Sweetcherrie(Trey)'s poem.

Breath puffing in the cold air, Dq marches through the Christmas Eve snow determinedly. Behind her she drags a small, rather bedraggled, pine tree. The door to the Keep is open a crack, and she shoves it open with a foot. Struggling with the tree, Dq finally manages to get herself and her plant through more or less in one piece. She stops briefly to catch her breath, and then starts towards the Conservatory. Finally arriving at her destination, Dq proudly sets up her tree off to the side. From her pockets she pulls several ornaments, and arranges them on the branches. For the crowning touch she reaches deep into her coat to reveal a glittery star. Handling it carefully, Dq stands on her tiptoes to balance the star on the very top. The tree situated to her liking, Dq pulls out a fleecy picnic blanket and spreads it on the ground. Standing back to admire her handiwork, she considers her next line of action. Obviously, she couldn't simply sit down and start singing alone. From somewhere under her bulky coat, Dq produces a guitar which is only a little too small. She begins to play, awkardly, but the tune resolves itself into something not unlike 'Jingle Bells'. Before long she has a listener or two, singing along. Satsified, she smiles to herself. Now that's a holiday tradition.

I hope everyone's loved ones are safe. My prayers for all affected.

A thought surfaces in Dq's mind. I used to know some riddles... She puts her name down, and rushes off to gather up all the unwanted food lying around her home.

Merry Christmas, everyone. May it be warm and happy.

Dq strolls up to the booth and stops, examining it curiously. " 'Adventurers wanted'? Well I've always fancied going adventuring. Sign me up!"

Excellent poem. Nice rythym and rhymes. Seems to me like this isn't such a common topic; liked the first stanza. The only thing I have to point out is the second stanza doesn't quite seem to flow with the rest of the poem, rythym-wise. But these are only my thoughts, and this is a splendid first poem.

Congrats to all the promotees! Seems like this place just keeps growing...

What strange thing is this? Who knew such one as her exists? Forsooth, not I, 'Till here I wandered by. So small, And yet her words enthrall. I amidst the others wait, So that, according to her words, I might create. Judge ye not by her diminuitive stature, But simply behold, the muse in minature.

Smiling softly to herself, Dragonqueen begins. "Back when Ma was still around, Christmas was the best time of year. No matter how tough times were, Ma always made sure we had a tree. We had a few ornaments we put up each year. But my favorite part was the singing. Christmas Eve, my brother and Ma and I would all sit around the tree, snug and cozy in our little house, and sing Christmas songs all night long. My brother was - well, still is, quite talented with a guitar. He'd play, and I and Ma would sing, Ma in her high soprano and I lower, in alto. I always thought she sung like an angel. Of course, we didn't just stick to traditional carols. We would make up our own, too. Brother was always fiddling around with the chords, and Ma had a knack for rhyming. I would contribute every now and then, but mostly I just listened to them two and sang along when I could. Those were the times - the three of us, together and always making the best of it..." Dragonqueen trails off. Her eyes glisten with tears at the poignant memory.

Somewhere in the distance, Dragonqueen hears a faint, infectious beat. As the conga line draws nearer, louder grows the music. A grin grows on Dragonqueen's face. Nevertheless, she crosses her arms and backs away. "No. I don't dance. Absolutely... Aw, who am I kidding? I love to dance!" Letting the catchy rythym sweep her away, Dragonqueen hops onto the end of the line as it passes.

Keeper of madmen and fools. Thou hast most natural tools. Two ears, most alert. Thy flesh, in lush fur girt. Black nose, so twitching cute. Four paws scrambling o'er grass and root. O, wilt thou comest no nearer, Thou sharp-toothed nutbearer?

Sister planet to mine own. Yet an imperfect clone. Tell me, dost thou yearn for life? Thy cloudy cover hides thee so, Thine surface we shall never know. So watch we must from sister terra, Whose rule be a more gentle era.

Drawing me in deeper yet. And I a willing victim. The art I cannot quite perfect. But still it dictates its whim, The words I cannot forget. Words I write, though time be slim. I am ever tangled in its net.

Before she has time to change her mind, she is running down the hill. She hears the wind fly past her as she gathers speed, whipping her hair back from her face and numbing her skin. Her breath comes in short, dry pants as a combination of cold air and exericise burns her lungs. But for a few moments, she feels the joy of uninhibited speed, and seeing the world rush past her like a blurred slideshow makes her feel like she is flying. Pentup energy rushes out of her, gleefully expended in her sprint. Her legs slow, and she stops, feeling the ache after the initial rush. The brief run catches up with her, and she bends over and puts her hands on her knees. Warmth creeps back into her system, driving out the wind chill. She grins, even as she tries to catch her breath, the adrenaline still rushing through her veins.

The first result is up! For organizational purposes I've started a seperate thread here

At long last I am happy to present the first result of my QQ! The final project will have some suitable title, but in the meanwhile I will title them by character. Cryptomancer A double-sided coin. One side, the Raven. Initially seen, Gregarious. Come closer and flip it. The Cryptomancer. Lyrical, pensive. Leader when needed. Magic first and foremost. Symbols focus pow'r. Second choice, the sword. The katana. Edit: Another poem added, but temporary titles have been removed on two of these, as Sweetcherrie's character's poem and Tanuchan's link together.

You have a very entertaining style of writing. It kept my attention long enough to read it through, which is not an easy feat. Half-demons and planewalkers aren't really my thing, but your story is well-written. At least, that's what I think. The only thing I can say is that you might want to look into the proper use of comma's.

Wait Wait. You're running so fast I can't keep up. What's the hurry? It's not going anywhere. Wait. Don't leave me behind. No need to rush. No need to be so serious. So eager for responsibility and privleges. Take your time. You're going to regret this. Stop and smell the roses. Wait. Don't grow up so fast. ***** Painted Faces Wipe your face blank Pick up your paints Paint the mask you want to show the world today. After all, all the world's a stage And you're just an actor and All that matters is material things. Really, this is who I am, But how can I help it when everyone around me is so corrupted? Maybe there's a few cracks, a tiny flaw, But that's what seperates the best from the rest How well you can paint your face And don't smile, don't cry You'll crack the mask. Guess the only thing that matters is How well you can fake it. Edit: Spelling errors

Awesome poems. I like the rythyms. One can really feel the raw emotion in these pieces. The first poem reminded me of Joan of Arc, but I think that wasn't what you'd intended? The third one was truly amazing.

Dq abandons her search for secret passages and rubs her chin. "But if it's Cryptomancer, somebody else'll have to deal with the cheerleader... We really ought to stop focusing on the prankster's identity and start having some fun. Where's the fun in suspicion? But if I must..." OOC: YanYan

Looking around at the abruptly empty room, Dq edges closer to its well-lit center. She glances at the piece of paper in Papa Smurf's outstretched hand and shrugs. "Pointing fingers, hmm... There's not much evidence." Dq ponders for a moment. "Who's up for exploring?" In the space of a couple minutes, the shadows seem to have grown friendlier. Dq hesitates, then takes a deep breath and walks over to the wall. She starts tapping on the walls and listening for hidden passages.

Dq drifts after the minor crowd gravitating towards the basement. She stops at the mouth of the tunnel, and wonders for a moment about the possibility of spiders. What the heck...It's Halloween. What better time to explore a spooky tunnel? Having made up her mind, Dq steps into the tunnel and is instantly blinded by the darkness. She stops, and puts an arm out to the side. Finding the wall, she keeps one hand on it to guide herself. Progress is slow as Dq ventures forth...

Simona listens to the reports calmly, never once doing anything to suggest the slightest alarm. In truth, the Italian is not alarmed. Apprehensive, perhaps. The French inspector...three murders. Coincidence, maybe, but a [darned] strange one. Whatever's going on, it can't be good. A minute later, Simona picks up a cell phone, one of several which she uses. She taps in the number belonging to the one person on this planet whom Simona trusts absolutely. "Pronto." "Luisa, it's Simona. Dispose of my agent in France. Burn my warehouses there." "Why? What's up?" "I'm not sure. Maybe something, maybe nothing." "Va bene. Is that it?" "One more thing. I want information on everyone and everything at my fingertips within 24 hours. And make sure our friends are still our friends. Remind them what happens to tattle-tales." "Anything you say." Simona flips the phone closed with a slight click. Her brows furrow for a moment, then she shrugs. Picking up the phone again, Simona calls a different number. The conversation this time is short and brief. "Mikhail. Go to Russia. Scout out our interests." "Anything you say." Flipping the phone shut for a second time, Simona places it on the desk in front of her and leans back in her chair.