Savage Dragon

I very recently began a short story and within just a few lines i realized i had written myself into a corner. See if you can realize my problem before I reveal it after the first part of my story. Take a moment and think about it. Do you see my problem? How on earth was I supposed to share in words a feeling which I just defined as a feeling beyond words? I'm stuck and after giving it a lot of thought and time, I still have no idea how I would finish this story. So instead I challenge you, yes you reading this now you've already read it so you might as well give it a try, to see if you can come up with a suitable ending. Even if you don't come out with a perfect ending, which i highly suspect no one will, at least post your best attempt so we can all decide which one sounds the best, even if it doesn't fit perfectly. It doesn't have to be long, just write it

Perhaps the time of werewolves and seers has passed... what a shame i look back at the bygone era with a certain amount of mournful nostalgia, but mostly with a cheerful thankfulness of the good times shared by all...well except the countless innocents that needlessly died. sigh.... good times, good times

Happy Mother's Day to all the Pen Members who are mothers, grand mothers, or just spend a lot of time taking care of children. In honor of the day I thought I'd celebrate in a proper Pen fashion by sharing a little story of my own mother and invite you to do the same ************************************ To this day, none of my family can actually remember what the fight was about. Knowing the frugal attitude of my father and my mother's need to keep her family happy no matter the cost, money might not be a bad guess. Suffice it to say that my parents were arguing and us kids were upset by this. It was late at night, we were already in our pajamas for bed, and we were steadily bawling. I must have been 7 or 8 at the time. Luckily my parents never escalated beyond yelling and after a while my dad went up to his room in a huff. Needless to say, this isn't how most happy family memories start, but i guess were not that ordinary a family. Like I said we were all crying and my mom doesn't like to see her kids cry so she ordered us to put on our shoes and get into the car. That surprised us, we were still in our PJs and it was dark outside, which equals very late to our younger selves. Before long we were pulling into the parking lot of Baskin Robbins where the four of us and our mother enjoyed ice cream, still in our PJs, talking xcitedly about how late we got to stay up (of course if Baskin Robbins was still open, i suppose it couldnt have been that late) Not one of us will ever forget that day when my mom broke all the rules just to get us ice cream Thanks Mom for that and everything else that you do

Pay attention to the people around you. You can save a lot of time if you learn how to learn from other people's mistakes. There is something to be learned from everybody, even if it is just a great example of how not to be When asked the time it will take for you to do something, always overestimate... its always better to be done early than to finish late, especially when others are waiting It doesn't matter how "good" of a person you consider yourself to be if your actions don't prove it seek out that which offends you and learn more about it. how can you know what is good if you don't know what is bad... of course it might turn out to be better than you thought Promises are easier to keep if you fulfill them immediately If someone comes to you with a problem, don't always assume they are looking for a solution. sometimes they just want you to recognize their problem and sympathize (i find this to be true more often with woman, but thats just my observation) there is no better indication of the person you are than the company you keep under no circumstances should you attempt to drink olive oil... its not as impressive as you think it would be

Crewel Lye by Piers Anthony this book is almost solely devoted to the author's love of puns.... it can be exhausting to read

i often find that simple words can convey my meaning better than any lengthy explanation so i'll just say this thank you so much for sharing this piece it was wonderful

my... i almost feel cheated the game was over so fast, i hardly had time to scheme. hardly even got to use my knife

Jasper idly twirled the knife in his left hand. It spun at an amazing speed but he was careful to keep the knife in complete control. It's what he does when he's tense... well one of the things he does. Normally, he drinks his anxiety away, but he hadn't had anything to drink in about a week now. He liked to tell himself it was because he was smart enough to avoid the IQ lowering drink during times of great peril and danger, like now with a murderer afoot, but the truth was he was broke and could not afford it. Oh well, he'd manage. Again his mind returned to the murder at hand and who among his new companions was the most likely of killers. It could be any one of them, they were a group of collected strangers for the most part, no one really knowing anyone else. It meant that this was not likely a crime of passion, but more likely a planned and purposeful killing even if the method had been a little.... crude. The killer was more likely to be cunning and therefore all the more dangerous. He frowned. It also meant that he was more likely to kill again. All the more reason to discover him quickly.... or her. A good number of his fellow travelers seemed abrasive and rash, likely suspects and easy to imagine as death dealers. In fact too easy. If this killer was smart he would do his best to stay hidden and therefore the more plain the man, the more likely the killer. and nothing is more plain than the average farmer. John Deere was a plain farmer. even his name sounded familiar. Jasper scratched the scruff on his neck. wouldn't surprise me at all to learn that John Deere was the killer. After all, Jasper had been raised by farmers and knew how simple minded some of them could be. and nothing was more simple than murder he stood to search out some of his companions, he'd like to tell himself it was because he wanted to learn more about them and maybe come a little closer to finding this killer, but really he was hoping one of them might have a drink Vote for Mithrandin - John Deere

recently finished The story of my boyhood and youth by John Muir... excellent view of nature through a child's eyes now on a slightly different vein, the alternate history novel, The Guns of the South, by Harry Turtledove... a story about time travelers going back to the The American Civil War and giving AK-47s to the South... and the results therein... lovely book with perspectives both from the front line soldier and from the famous General Lee as well

He had no more options. As he sat and looked at the papers scattered around him, he realized that he literally had no more options. Well that can't be right, he thought to himself, No one has NO options... there's got to be something i can do Again he tore a fresh sheet of paper and set it before him. Scribbling like a mad man, he wrote every choice, every possible direction that his life could take him in. but try as he might... he could only write down three. go forward go back go nowhere and he already knew... knew that none of them were options for him he couldn't go forward... it's not like he didn't try, he'd been trying for years. and every time he'd fall back down again. every year he'd hit a wall and crumble. the same wall, it was always the same wall. and he'd lie there in that pile, that heap until someone picked him up again. it might be a friend, it might be family, a few times he'd even managed to pick himself up. and things would be fine and he'd feel like this time was going to be different. but then he'd hit that wall... every time he hit that wall and he'd fall back down again. he knew he couldn't go forward. he didn't want to go forward...not anymore and he couldn't go back... he already knew what would be waiting for him there if he did. if he went back all he would find was the people who pushed him forward... and he couldn't stand to look at those people again. they would look at him in disgust at his failure, his inability to make anything of the sacrifices they had made for him, to push him. or worse yet... they might push him again, push him towards the wall which he had no desire to conquer and make more useless sacrifices. no, he'd already seen what happens to those who turn back, the soulless shells they become and he knew he couldn't go back and that left just one option. the last option. go nowhere and end the journey here and end it now. and he knew that he couldn't do that either. he wasn't allowed to. not because some friends told him not to, not because some book said it was wrong. he knew he couldn't because he promised he wouldn't. he had broken so many promises already, let so many people down and so he knew he couldn't break this promise... this last promise that he had made only to himself to never end it. so he knew he couldn't go nowhere one by one he crossed all three options off his list and in disgust threw his hands up and tossed the paper aside. he rested his head in his hands, beyond tears. He had no more options. As he sat and looked at the papers scattered around him, he realized that he literally had no more options. Well that can't be right, he thought to himself...

Jasper Cornelius, 24 Jasper grew up in a small family of farmers in a kingdom not so far from here and left in a huff at the ripe age of 17. If you ask him why, he'll tell you it was out of boredom. 7 years later, he's very much the wiser and only a little less likely to run into a fight... in fact its more of a saunter. Not known for extravagance, you'll usually find him wearing a simple white shirt, plain brown pants and his worn boots. Were it not for the belt of knives he wears around his hip, you probably wouldn't notice him at all. He keeps the knives very sharp and very close at hand, and his skill with those knives is only matched by his skill at drinking.

flute

funeral

tired

Name: Simon Hopkins Clan: Brujah Generation: 12th Apparent Age: 20 Actual Age: 25 Nature: Very good natured and kind before the Embrace, confused in this new role of predator Demeanor: quiet, observant Sire: Richard Ellis History: Simon only very recently joined the world of immortals, a world he is very uncomfortable with. Simon had been very different in his....previous life. He had been a man of passion. He'd been friendly, intelligent, and easy-going. He went to a university, made friends easily and with little effort, and was respected by professor and student alike. He adapted to the complex changing social structure around him naturally. He was dependable, trustworthy, and could be counted on as a designated driver. He had a life many dreamed of. He was also a fool. He was a fool in love. She had meant the world to him and when she died, the world lost meaning for him and his passion died with her. After the accident he began to sleep all day, continually missing his classes and keeping to himself during the night. Friends begged him to get a hold of his life and continue his education or to at least walk with the rest of the world in the daylight again. He told them the sun hurt his eyes. He would go on long walks off-campus at night, exploring dark corners and unlit alleys. He hoped to run into trouble, a mugger, a thug, someone he could fight, someone he could lose to. All he found was Richard Ellis. Richard Ellis immediately noticed young Simon, recognizing the fierce look in his eyes common among passionate men. Richard had no passion, only greed. Short, sniveling, disliked even by his fellow clansmen, he saw Simon as a useful tool. He hoped to take on Simon as a prodigy, knowing the extreme usefulness of a man of his sort, but he also knew that Simon's passion could only be lured out of a willing man and so he sought to win Simon's compliance. Simon allowed himself to be steered by this mysterious man mostly out of pure apathy. Night after night, Richard would take Simon through the underworld of the dark city, exposing him to drugs and other evil things in the hopes on enticing him into this dark lifestyle. Simon fell to the temptations with only a twinge of guilt left over from the shadow of what he once was and perhaps he would have stayed in this lowest of lows had Richard not been impatient. Though Richard could tell Simon was well on his way to becoming a permanent tool of his, he had grown tired of this game and hoped to win Simon over with one final temptation, a woman. The scream of the whore pulled Richard into the room. The memory of his love had burned painfully into Simon's mind at the sight of the woman and he had retreated into the bathroom. The whore had mistaken his breakdown for a need to prepare and only looked for him when he did not return for several minutes. She found him with his wrists slit and unconscious from the blood loss. Richard ran into the room, panicked at the sight of his dying prodigy and performed the Embrace. Simon awoke not to the blessed release he had expected, but to a savage hunger he had never before felt. The whore's second scream was louder but shorter. Now fully aware of Richard's true nature, Simon left his would-be master and went on to fend for himself in this new world. Though unprepared and alone, Simon's survivalist instinct and adaptability have served to keep him intact. Disciplines: Potence - Superhuman Strength Celerity - Superhuman Speed Presence - Superhuman Charisma Disciplines typical of Brujah, though very underdeveloped due to his youth. ---------------------------------------------------- Okay, a lot longer than originally intended, but complete I figured Simon's amateur status would fit nicely considering I'm still learning myself

pie

Alright a win for the villagers despite the loss of our two specials, now thats an accomplishment

Alright I know pretty much nothing about the setting except that Vampires suck blood... but that hasn't stopped me before character to come once i find out a little more

Some of the crowd left then, others stayed to see what Johnny would do. Johnny remained where he was, unmoved.

Sialla awoke from a very restless night of sleep and started her morning the same way she started it everyday, she went to check on the children. The bedroom usually reserved for the twins was now filled with total of seven children. She was proud of Zi and Ziran, who had accepted the incomers without complaint or judgment. They were all safe. for the moment, Zi, Ziran, Iris, Diris, and Osiris. and in the corner the crib... Sialla tensed when she realized that a figure stood over the crib, dark and hunched over. She moved toward it slowly, unsure of her next movement, unknowing how she could react, but knowing that she must. Suddenly Osiris stirred and Johnny turned sharply at the noise. Osiris remained asleep and Johnny let the tension release from his shoulders and then he noticed Sialla in the doorway. Sialla also relaxed when she realized the figure had been Johnny, though she saw why she didn't immediately recognize him. He was a mess, covered with dirt, the dirt he had dug to bury his friends, to bury the parents of the children that slept before him. The shovel still hung limply from his right hand, dragging on the floor. Only his face seemed clean. It was obvious from the deep streaks that covered his cheeks what he had been doing this night, and it had not been sleeping. She went to stand next to him as he turned his attention back to the cradle. The little boy and little girl were asleep, sleeping as only babies can sleep, without care or worry, unaware of the grave losses they had suffered that would affect the rest of their lives. Their parents had died before they had even been properly named.... but personally Sialla had already taken to calling them Zeldon and Taleena. Johnny looked down at the twins, twins whom he would've been trusted to care for time to time. Twins he now held himself responsible to care for for all time. They were perfect, they were beautiful, and he'd be damned before he let any of them be taken from this beautiful world. He wanted to stay forever to protect them, to stay here with Sialla in this room and never leave and just keep them safe, keep them all safe.... but he could not trust the world to leave them alone. Johnny turned and embraced Sialla in a way he had never done before, but had always wished to. He buried his head into her shoulder and she wrapped her arms around his head, stroking him softly. Quietly he let himself drain, he cried for the last time, poured the weakness from his body. For now he must be strong. She held him like a mother would hold her son and they remained quiet for at least twenty minutes. "If i am wrong," she heard him say suddenly, "it is very possible i will not live through the night. In which case you must seek the assistance of the gunslinger for protection, he will come, and not leave this cabin again until he has dealt with....with all of this. But i do not believe i am wrong." He left before she could say anything, afraid she might ask him to stay, afraid that he would if she asked, and he had to leave. He had to fight. He picked up the shovel with both hands and began shouting. He screamed words that he had never dared speak before as he slowly walked to his destination, rising the people of the town with his volume. They began to follow him, so many surprised by this outburst never before seen in Johnny. He was glad of it, there was safety with a crowd.... as long as the crowd was not against you. He did not stop a step from his march, he let the momentum of the moment carry him onward, giving him the strength he'd never had before, the strength he needed to protect the ones he loved. His tirade of words ended with the words "IT ENDS NOW!" as he struck the shovel down on the wooden porch of Joshua Oldwind. Silence hung in the air. Johnny stood facing the door as the large crowd assembled realized where they were. Not everyone in the crowd was as sure as Johnny was. Their voices started small, but grew when none spoke up against them. "...Hasn't there been enough?..." "...Surely you don't suggest Oldwin?..." "...Where is your proof?..." Johnny turned to face the crowd and it grew silent... then one man in the crowd said simply "why?" "why? why is a luxury of scholars and saints. i have no proof, i have no reason, i only have what i have seen and what i have felt, and it has led me to this door. this is no longer a time for why. i ask not why. i ask only what i could... what i can do to end this. so here i stand ready to drive this infestation from our land by force. you can ask me why when it is gone." with that he turned back to the door and his audience grew silent, waiting for the owner of the door to come out. (OOC: oh yea and in case you didn't pick up on it i accuse Patrick - Joshua Oldwind of being a wolf)

Shadows of the Colossus for PS2 was by far the most poetic game I have ever played. The game is very simple, it is a land filled with 16 beasts in order to revive the woman you love. You have a sword, a bow, and a horse. Every beast is like a puzzle to find its weak spot and climb up to slay the creature. great music and graphics and very realistic movement as your character tumbles trying to stay steady on a moving creature. i'd recommend it

great post Finnius, i feel guilty just reading it.

Johnny felt sick after the lynching. Hell, they all did, most retreating to their homes as the sky grew dark, back to their fires. Back to their families they had killed Luke to protect. Back to tuck their children in bed and guard their homes. He wondered what they would tell their children. He wondered what would come of Duke, Luke's twin... Guilt filled him to the brink and Johnny did the same thing he always did when deeply troubled. He began to work. Some mundane task, some ordinary job to just distract him from the dark times of the present. As luck would have it, there was still one job to be done. As the town fell into a nervous sleep, stars began to fill the sky, somehow dimmer than the night before. Johnny's shovel was the only sound to echo in the night as he performed a final favor for the friend he had betrayed.

parking lot

death