Mardrax

Why was the smiley face yellow? It started simple enough: colon - dash - bracket period Other punctuations waiting in line, waiting, realising; it wasn't their time. Possibilities were myriad. "When do I come?", one asked with a huff. Semicolon - he was an odd fellow. The dash then did drop Full stop "Soot covering your skin"

tapir

Safely stepping into space, the airlock closed behind me. No more things for which to race, no more things that bind me. Float around a nullity, look down upon the earth. Realise its punity in the expanse's girth. Existence's birth, in countless constellations, is pointing out my dearth in one of its rotations. The formations, conflagrations, expectations, limitations? "The void draws me in"

frollicking feathers fan the furnace frowning I follow the fanning fowl frothing foam flushing in the heat flames follying my feral sternness As I wait for dinner to be done. "Baking bagels for your birthday"

Hiya

an IRC haiku: virtual corpses of memories long past- echoes dying blah

my thoughts exactly ranking will always in essence be an idle term. the most skilled and talented writers need just never apply for a membership to never rise above guest status, never apply for guild membership to never rise above page or whatever it is it's called. Another thing: if people are posting in a section of the forum labeled as being for "Posts-in-progress with technical feedback" as Tzim puts it (note I have no idea how it actually is labelled ) it's their fault if they can't take the criticism, not of the one criticising, however offputting that may be. If you tried your best to help them along, you've done all you could. If they burst out at you for that, they're at fault. If they correct you over it, and turn the tables on who's criticising who, that's their responsibility also, and they may very well be right at doing so. Either way, both learn, which is the objective in giving constructive feedback, no? I'm just saying initiates might be the ones needing alot of help -me doubtless being one of those- and places such as the Workshop are there to help, right? I think it's only fair to open it to them, if just for that. If they don't need the help, they just shouldn't post there, as by doing so, they're specifically asking for it in my book. The first and foremost priority to having any structure to a forum is to have its users understand this structure, and use it to both their own and the forum's best benefit. If beforehand you're saying people won't be able to, reforms are useless. If you're speaking from experience when saying such, the structure needs to be made clear to the ones who don't seem to understand. Tzim: If I in any way came across as ill-spirited, I didn't mean to. I'm just giving a voice to my opinion as Ozy asked everyone to. I'm sorry if those views conflict with anyone else's, but I'm not going to shut up just because they do. Sorry again, but I'm just not like that. If you think of me or what I say as ill-spirited for that, so be it. I can try (and do try) to voice things in a way I won't stomp all over anyone's toes, but sometimes, sweettalking stuff just doesn't help. For some more direct answers to your post: To start, I'm sorry for seeming to have posted something where it doesn't belong, however, it was only on a sidenote, and next to that, I've seen quite a few other technical matters discussed, and even solved in this thread. Once again though: my bad. I think the question of wether or not you should allow people to read where they can't post is a hard one, and it mostly depends on what's being posted there. DSEPRoD for example (again, not that I know what's posted there, but I can imagine) I can imagine to be quite summit of frustration if you know what's going on but can't intervene. Then for me follows the question of exactly WHY it's so anoying to you. I break that answer down in three parts: 1) it's anoying by default to "be mute" 2) it's anoying because important subjects are being discussed you'd like a say in 3) it's anoying because you probably have no scope of getting the rank needed to be unmuted in the near future, given your long time here alone, if you'd have had any aspirations to climb there, you would have. the first two can't be helped ofcourse, the third however, is an interesting point to look at in considering to allow it. The progression from initiate to page isn't a very big one the way I see it (again, I point out I could be mistaken, or at least, differing from the traditional view) and making stuff viewable to initiates but muting them to it can be just that little extra push in the back they need to put in that little bit of extra effort, same goes for the page-quilbearer transfer, but to a lesser extent. Especially if the section states it can't be posted in until rank X. In that light I see I am in part mistaken about a true leadership section needing to be viewable by most-all. However I think more openness in leadership wouldn't hurt(and I think I've seen people express the same opinion here), and that would be a good step towards it. How that balances out towards the anoyance factor, I don't know. Another part is, if you want to prevent people like me to read stuff and draw their own conclusions based on what they see and a bit of extrapolation, being more open or even more closed is the only way, and I doubt the latter would be any good. About the guilds, I think you(as in the collective of people wanting this or that from them) will have to dip a whole lot more oars into that discussion before you can work out a solution that will work for all involved. Anyway, I'm only a minor voice in this, or probably at least considered such. I've had my say, and I rest my case.

No I can't see anything more than any regular guest can, (I frankly had no idea I had that prefix to my group name... sure it's not default? ) so can see niether of those. What I can see -and have seen- though, are other forums, other communities I have experienced, and ofcourse, life in general. One needs no thorough understanding of the way one community works to be able to point out it's boons and flaws If you can read, especially in between the lines, you can gather a whole lot of information about what's going on, especially with this kind of discussions going on in public. I know (of) nothing that isn't available to the general public, or which hasn't been told to me in private conversation, of which I have very little as most people here are a complete mystery to me. Besides, I'd prefer to be just called a newbie rather than a lurker Only reason I've been registered this long is to read a post once, way back... haven't read anything since, until Appy ordered me to post that first poem here If you want to get to know me though, feel free to drop into IRC... it's silent enough as it is

Mardrax stood baffled, the long list of supposed crimes in hand, looking at them for a while before turning his head to Wyvern. "I don't think I have another ring on hand, though I can have a look for something equally pleasing to her." He began rummaging trough the several deep pockets in his outer robe, taking out a few odd looking objects, (which looked to be together far too big to fit in the pocket they came from), putting them back again, coming up with other, even stranger items, and putting those back too, all the while mumbling things in a language strange to all present, eventually replaced by an "Ah! Here it is!" Both hands came from his pockets simultaneously, one covered in some purplish slime that seemed to dissipate before it had a chance to drip off, -and of which no sign could be seen less than 10 seconds after he pulled the hand out- the other holding a brass box, with a strange organic pattern of silver filigree all around it's side and on its top. A small button was on its front and a little dial was on each side. "Say little Miss? Would you be so kind as to join us again for a moment?" The girl looked around from her conversation with the dwarf, which she now held sitting atop the skippyball. "Shure!" She said, as she was already bouncing back. "This here is for you, as a reward for helping Mister Wyvern here with his graffiti problem." He leaned closer to the girl, whispering something in her ear, causing a giggle to erupt, and stood straight again, holding out the box to show her. He pushed the button and its lid flipped open, revealing a black stick about two inches in length -which he promptly took out and gave to the girl- and a small basin filled with a viscous red substance inside the box. The girl looked at the stick in puzzlement. "Just pull it." She did, and as she did, the stick kept on growing longer. "You can push and pull it to become any size you want, but that's not the best part... Shake it a few times." This to she did, and to her amazement, with each shake, a hair sprouted from one end, until she had a full brush in her hand. "Gee.... Thanks!" Appy offered as she prepared to turn around, but Mardrax stopped her. "I'm not done yet, little Miss. This is supposed to come with it." He handed her the brass box. "It's a sort of paint, but you can fill it back up with plain water, if it's ever empty. But now, turn a dial." The paint turned from red to pink, to white, to pink, to red, to crimson, to black and back to red as she turned the dial on one side. It turned from red to orange, to green, to yellow, to blue, to purple and back to red again as she turned the other dial. Mardrax smiled as he saw the girl's face light up. He pushed the lid closed again, and nodded to her. "Thanks again!" She said as she bounced back to the dwarf. The man turned back to the wyvern, brushing a few locks of hair behind his ears which had fallen in front of his face somewhere between the search started and the girl bounced away. "I hope that's satisfactory for you, though I still wonder: What do you mean by this... geld?"

I'm sorry I took as long to get here as I did, but I've been watching, planning to cast my stone in once I saw something I really didn't agree with, little though my voice may be on account of my not even being an initiate yet (probably one of the longest registered sub-initiates at that too ) First on non-guild related issues I have. I was anoyed by both the fact I can't change my own started topic titles and subtitles, no matter which membership level you are, I think you should be able to I was also quite suprised to see I had to manually remove the previous "reply-quote" when replying to a PM. However there are minor anoyances, and nothing in related to the community but to the medium it uses to communicate, and I imagine there's not much to do about either, so I'm moving on now. Guilds and my vision on them. I think the guilds' purpose is twofold. First, guilds SHOULD be a gathering place for the "elites" at their trade. Second, however, why should it not be able to double as a place of learning for the ones below that level? How can one expect anyone who doesn't have contact with anyone at this level the elitists like to call theirs to ever reach that level? Apart from that, why not allow the less talented, or at least less skilled (as most of us know, talent is worth zilch without both the chance to train and learn from other's experience) to use their more talented or skilled counterparts as a step up, at no incovenience to those being used as that step? I think giving at least initiates insight into what's happening a few steps up the hierarchial ladder, -what's being done, said, discussed, by those supposedly better than they- is a key factor in their development as writers, which some hope to do here, next to other things ofcourse. I know from experience just as well as most of us how anoying it is to not be able to reply to something if you feel the need to, but there's also a bright side to it, especially when compared to not being able to read it at all. Guildleaders. I don't know there. Haven't seen them in action, but frankly, I personally don't see much use for them in action. Ofcourse I could be gravely mistaken there on acount of my unknowing in general. One thing I know for sure they SHOULDN'T be doing though is organising activities, especially not outside of their guilds. Not the way it's been done in the past anyway. The way I currently see it. these activities have always been done with an eye on improving the overall activity of the Pen. This is not something guildleaders should bothering with. This is a responsibility for the community as a whole, and as such, if any leading entity should be concerned with it, it should be the elders themselves. I don't think, however, that any leading entity should fix this. Individual members should, not from wanting to fulfill their activities, but from wanting to keep the community as a whole intact, though Peredhil's example brought up by someone a few posts back to shows only that clutching at straws is useless. If people can't or won't show activity for some time, there's nothing you can do but accept it - The community might be a community, but prised on individuality as most of you are, I think you should look more into the individual side of people as well. for a few concrete things I disagree with from TzimFemme's post: Writer's Workshop: I think it should be set to be both viewable and postable by initiates. If you're going to give advice to people, give it to the people that need it first. Guilds: I think reading acces should be granted to at least pages, preferably even initiates, read my rant above for explanation. Minstrell Hall, or at least, the organisation discussions I think should be viewable by most everyone (separate section?), if only to let them know what's coming, not coming, what's going around in the heads of leading entities. As far as this one's concerned, I think Ozymandias made a very good decision placing it where everyone can view it, or even reply to it if they so choose. (Asmadeus and me being the only "new" people to take this up, though maybe, more will follow) He chose to outstep the boundaries of "fixed" members of the community, trying to involve everyone. I think in any community, it's the sense of belonging which makes you a part of it and inspires you to actively participate in it. Shutting people out just because they haven't appealed, or proven themselves, to the elitist side of the community is in my view not a good thing to do. As far as any voting matters about promoting people are concerned, I think no one but the voters should be able to read it, if only to prevent them from holding to themselves opinions that are better expressed lest they prove an obstacle in the future. My 2 cents, do with them as you will PS: I'd really like a bubblegum vending machine that works on two cents, with al the cents being tossed in here EDIT: rev, I think when dealing with a community of writers, you're bound to have a whole lot of very reactionary people, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, as long as the reactions are guided into a way they work out for the better. Voicing an opinion (especially about someone, rather than something) is in no way bad, provided you do so in a civilised way. Holding that opinion to yourself can quickly turn into a habit, until the kettle bursts and you're left feeling much more hurt by it in the end. Be this vocally, resulting in saying things you otherwise never would or silently, resulting in people dropping off the face of the earth. The thing with most people is learning how to control and guide these emotions into something good, though just the honesty expressed in voicing what you think can be something good. Judging by some of the posts I've seen in here there's alot of people who keep on bottling up. That's worse than being reactionary (or actually, the outbursts it results in are what causes people to be seen as overly reactionary)

Swift, on wheels of flame eroding, his chariot drew its fiery line across the sky. Shards that from its wheels came afly, as he his horses was goading. Pyrois crippled, his brow rippled. Aeos lame, but without cane. Aethon no more horse than man, more crawled than ran. Phlegon spewing phlegm, Their combined glory faded. Phaeton no more Phoebus than was he. His many daughters sagging. Wives on their deathbed. Theia now more moon than mother. A pantheon's dusk, temples little but empty husks, though drawing more visitors than they ever did. "two ends meet and join"

Rainbows and butterflies in flight will hold my attention no longer than the stars of night. Shivers and tears of fright no more sooth my worries than any other plight. At first sight, the moon is like a beacon light. Though it isn't right. It is but one more will-o'-wisp; a blight. But at least it holds my sight longer than rainbows and butterflies in flight. -- "As the requiem sets in"

The man spasmed the moment Wyvern pulled his arm. The scaled creature's body lurching lurching violently up and over the Mardrax' body. The man's other arm shot up to catch the flying wyrm in mid air, just barely missing the leg with the asp coiled around and firmly clutching the other. His other arm shooting up to prevent Wyvern's head from sagging to the ground on the end of his long neck, the direction of gravity turned a straight angle in a split-second jerk. He turned the head to look staright into his eyes, which had now turned a blazing red, where before they had been a bland grey. "It's Mardrax... pseudo-beast," he spat. "Remember that name well as I send you to your ... No!... Get out!" The man twitched, shaking the Wyvern violently. "You... stay away... this is.... my... business... now. No..... will..... not.... allow... Get out of my head, damn you! You.... you have no more business here. You will regret saying that. No... I will not. Regardless, you can't get rid of me, I am you, you are I Yeah.... a speech I've heard often. Yet you still don't see it's simple truth... you cannot deny me. No, but I can banish you for now." With this, both man and wyvern dropped to the floor, the man's frame no longer able to support the winged creature's massive weight. As the wyvern scrambled up, and back up against a wall, he outstretched his limbs and neck, giving noise to a whole range of bones cracking and snapping back into place and eyed the heap of robes now sprawled out on the ground, quivering, slowly coming back into motion with a feeling of mixed fear, wonder, curiosity and shock. Slowly, sagging trough his knees two times in the process, the man stood up, going trough about the same process as the wyvern. He flexed his limbs and bent his neck this way and that, giving noise to an less impressive, but equally earwracking range of clacking bones. He stroked his robes back into proper shape, adjusted his belt for the second time in five minutes. "I'm dreadfully sorry about that." His eyes were back to their former bland grey as he returned the wyverns look. His voice sounded truly apologetic. He looked... hurt, if anything... afraid, if anything else. "I really hope that didn't hurt too much, it's just that... at times... when I'm threatened, mostly.... that... happens. I try to control it, and sometimes... sometimes I can. Other times... Let's just say I'm glad I got back in control at the time I did, and not a few seconds later. Are you quite alright?" The wyvern squinted and snarled: "Yeah... now come with me to read whatever I have scrawled on there and get this over with." He started to work himself back out of the window, but when he was halfway trough, that same fearful voice stopped him. "Eehm... Sir?" "Yeah?" "How about my application?" "Not... now." "Alright... I think... I'll just leave it here on your desk then. Alright?" The lizard grunted and made the rest of his way out of the window. Mardrax cocked an eyebrow as he watched the lizard make his way out of the window, shrugged, and pulled the chair so many applicants had waited on under the window, making his way out trough it and landing on the muddy grass outside. "Ye sure took yer sweet time." "Oh... I'm dreadfully sorry to have..." "I know the drill by now kid... come on." "Alright... but might I ask we walk to your quarters? I seem to lack the means of transport your back sports." The lizard grunted and was already walking. "I'm glad we have the time to talk now Mister Wyvern, so I can clear up some misconceptions I seem to have caused. That ring? It wasn't cursed, it was... malfunctioning. I must have made a mistake in making it... I might not be fully mortal like you, I am however just as prone to mistakes as you are, or probably I am even more so. It wasn't a ring either, on that matter, it's my -fully patented in more worlds than I have hands on this finger, I mean... you know what I mean- it's a piece of Instant Jewelry. A construct of my own device I might add, though the box it came in wasn't. That came from the" -the man made a strange gurgling sound here- "of" -another gurlging sounds, this one somewhat longer and with a slight change in tone- "I must add I altered this one make its jewelry a bit more gaudy, or rather, a bit more... big. Had you found a way to get it around your neck, it would have been well the size of a millstone. But enough of that." The lizard muttered a reply as they passed the courtyard from which the previously gathered crowd had begun to dissipate, and which was now host to several groups of talking people. Some looked for a while, a few even stared as the two figures passed in between them. Something strange in the keep was always a sight to behold, but the fad of it faded fast. "About that message on the back of your chest, I fear you have misinterpreted me there as well, if you would be so kind as to let me show you. Little miss, would you be so kind as to lend a hand by reading something?" He tapped a young girl on the shoulder, talking in rapid speech to a dwarf. Both were about the same size, but they were quite easily distinguished by the abundance of youth in one, and the lack of it in the other. The pink skippyball the girl held on to by a single handle also did little to merge her in with the crowd. "Sure!" The girl said as she whirled around. "What'cha want me read? Ooooh...." Her eyes seemed to grow larger as Mardrax raised the lizard's shirt a bit, then she ran around to face the lizard. "Hey Wyvern mister elder sir? Why do you have stuff written on your back?" At this, Wyvern would have probably raised eyebrow, were it not for his distinct lack of them. "Would you please just read it aloud?" "Shure!" The girl hopped back around the wyvern again, trailing her skippyball behind her. "Let me see now... it says... everything equals four? What's that supposed to mean?" "Nevermind that miss. I thank you." With that, the man made a small bow and turned around. The girl shrugged and walked back to the dwarf, chattering happily against him before too long. The man walked on, leaving the lizard standing uncharacteristically baffled for a few seconds before catching up. "Now is there anything else you'd like to discuss with me?... I'd be more than happy to help you with anything you've written yourself you can't decipher anymore, but I'll be quick to assure you I'm not responsible for any other messages anywhere, and I actually can't think of what I meant by that little tidbit on your back, which, by the way, is gone now. And if you'd care to take a look at your thumb, that's nothing but a blank canvas now too. Would have been soon enough, as it was just regular ink... I think."

OOC: I don't know where that blast-from the past style bit came from yesterday night (or frankly, I do, but I don't feel like explaining now, nor will I probably ever, nor do I see a need to ) but it's there and for that, I'll adhere to my philosophy of "it's signed so I won't touch it anymore", even though there probably are some things in it I would improve (or rather, change) now, if just to prevent conflicting with myself. From here on I will continue and hopefully end this threepiece "I appeared behind the lizard, his head still looking out. A hiss from the asp warned him of my coming. He looked around and saw me standing, my head then still full of hair, my face then uncarved by the lines that riddle it now, my poise still upright, without the cane I have here. Yes, my friends, students, children, I haven't always been this way. Once there were people who saw me as little more than the way I see you now, but please, hush for a while longer, as I continue. "And who might we have here?" He asked, an agonised look on his face, as far as his scaly kind is able to accurately display such emotions. I took a deep bow, the ends of my hair touching the stone floor of his room, and greeted him. "Well hello mister Wyvern, caught in my little trap I see? I'm sorry if it causes you any distress, as I surely didn't mean to, that I swear. It must be a malfunction, I didn't design it at all to... oh nevermind." I then spoke three words, the meaning and sound of which have been lost to all but a few, and I won't bother you with specifics. In fact, it's been so long I've used that language I'm not sure I even would be able to now." A look of sorrow, of longing for older days came over his face, as it had done frequently the last few weeks, but he continued nonetheless, after having taken a deep breath. "Sure enough, the ring began to fold back in on itself, into the box it had been before, and dropped to the floor. "Feel free to keep that tidbit, it might help you raise a tidy profit some day, if you do, make sure you'll send me the commission though." I said as I winked at the then-freed lizard. "I'm dreadfully sorry to bypass my self-set rules here, but again, I swear I didn't mean to trouble you as much as I did." While I babbled on he regained his composure, and turned his full body to face me, squirming to overcome the cramped quarters of his living conditions, his tail sending a few things falling to the floor as he did. "You surely must have figured out by now mister, but allow me to introduce myself nonetheless, as it would be horibly impolite for me to do without... Oh! I'm terribly sorry! Please help me pick that up for you." I scrambled around him, picking up the few things he'd knocked down and setting them on his desk. "Would you like them here sir? Or here? Or maybe'll I'll better just put them over there so you don't..." I continued after having rearranged the things a few times, to which he crankily replied: "Just leave them there will you, and stop messing around with my stuff unless I charge you extra for the wear?" "Oooh... wouldn't want that... again I'm dreadfully sorry if I caused any..." I paused as his snout dipped ever lower and lower, and his eyes narrowed to tiny slits. I coughed, and continued. "I am one known by many names, trough many places, of which I've forgotten more than most people can remember, which also includes me, hence my forgetting. I think... or was it?..." "Never mind, I get your point, now would you tell me who you are and what business you have putting me in this vice of yours?" The lizard didn't seem like he would be having a good mood anytime soon. "You can call me Mardrax, as that is the one name I can seem to keep remembering, and also one of the few you would be able to pronounce in any way approaching proper. I am what they call, a "Watcher". I travel around alot, hang around alot more, which gets boring at times so I'll not be guaranteed to be just an onlooker most of the time. I don't why or how I travel around though, I just seem to... do it. Although lately, I seem to have been able to control it more. Must be the youthful uncontrolability wearing off. Although ofcourse, comparing my years to yours, you wouldn't hardly have called me a youth a year back... By which ofcourse I don't mean or imply anything, not about you being so much younger than me anyway... I mean... Oh my, what have I talked myself into this time? Would you excuse for a few seconds?" To his eyes, after that last question, I seemed to fall asleep on the spot, to myself, quite different, but I've drawn that picture quite enough times for me to bore you haven't I?" The old man emptied his cup, the last bit of visible steam having dissipated from it even before he'd once again taken up this part of his story. His face contorted in an expression of disgust, the skin on his nose and between his eyebrows becoming even more pronouncedly wrinkled than it had already been. "Jane, would you be so kind as to fetch an old man another drink?" The girl nodded, silently stood up from her place in the semi-circle of listeners, took the man's cup and carried it away. She came back with it filled a few moments later, although the man was fully back into his storytelling then, so I choose to report this in this interlude, rather than break up his story for it. He drew another deep breath as the girl walked away, a gleam seemingly sparking in his eye as he watched her walking off -but who ever really knew what he was thinking?- and he continued his story. "I opened my eyes again, and the beastperson was still looking at me, rubbing his thumb in his other hand. I drew breath deeply and talked again: "However I travel, I am always brought to places where great things happen, or are bound to happen. Either way, this is where I feel I must be now, and again I'll apologise for any distress I cause while I'm here." The lizard eyed me for a while longer, the slits of his eyes opening a bit, until he told me that if I wanted to apply for a membership to their group, I just had to fill in the... and here he said some words I would rather not bring back into the world... registration form in a somewhat rude way. I asked him where these forms were and he answered: "In the..." and again he splurted some words I would rather not repeat "...registration office!" "So you mean I wasn't to apply to you directly? Oh I'm so terribly sorry. I truly am. Do you mean that side-building over there? I'll go there now to fill one out then... don't worry, I'll find my way out here and in there." And with that, the world twirled in on itself in front of my eyes, fading into a swirly grey mass, only to keep on twirling until it stabilised again a second or two later. I landed with my head on the stone floor of the registration office, accompanied by a loud bang, later muffled by my clothes which dropped down over my head. I gathered myself up, straightened my hair back out of my face, brough my belt back into its proper position and looked around the small office. Stacks of a material we then called paper were piled high all around the room. Most prominent were two stacks of sheets, one a bit more orderly stack than the other, on the desk. I looked at the top sheet of one stack. It was riddled with letters you would not recognise now. Penned full of scriblings, notes, corrections. I looked at the other stack. The top sheet was empty, but for a few words: "Name", "Gender", "Race", "Place of Birth", "Date of Birth", "Current Age", "Anything you'd like to tell?" I took the sheet, carefully thinking about what I was to write, then taking up this from a pocket somewhere in my clothes." With this the man drew something from behind his ear. It looked like a stick, but one end looked incredibly sharp, and it gleamed in the flickering light of our fire, showing us the flames as if he were holding up a bit of ice when he held it up to show us, but we could not look trough it. He continued speaking as he put it back behind his ear. "This is what we called a pen. We used it for writing, and perhaps, the offspring of your offspring's offspring will use something similar. Or perhaps they will not. That aside, I started filling in the blank bits in the form: Name: Mardrax Gender: unknown Race: └┼┘ Place of Birth: ╔╧╬╦╝ ╞═╡ Date of Birth: ∑∆ ╙╥ Current Age: unknown Anything you'd like to tell?: no And right on that moment, a tail stinger came trough the office's small window, followed by a pair of feet, with an asp coiled around a leg behind them... EDIT: OOC: alright, not quite done yet, it needs a finish which has already sprouted in my head somewhere, I just need to get it out... in the meantime, deal with it as you would had I not stated it needs to be finished, as I need you to do just that to even be able to finish

A man sits on a stone, clutching his head, talking to himself. He looks to be in a verbal battle against himself, though the words he speaks are unintelligable. The moment the bird lands though, he straightens up, tilting his head towards the bird. A moment later, two tears can be seen, running across his cheeks, tracing parallel wet streaks before dripping quietly against the stone. Right at that moment, he begins to speak, clear with a bright voice, sometimes interrupted (joined?) by a darker undertone: "Reading your words... You who seem so far." He stops speaking, nods at the bird as it flies off and looks at Tanuchan. No matter how little you have you think is worth saying, don't ever hesitate to speak it anyway. It's well worth the saying just to have it said, acknowledged. You told me you liked it, which is well enough said as it is, and for which, and for the welcome I can only thank you

A train of my thoughts, put to occasional rhyme, or lack thereof, rythm, or lack thereof, even meter, if you so choose to read The last two stanzas on the end of what, in my mind, I've called the first chapter before, I have to credit mister Daniel Gildenlöw for... as we both have tried to put different words to it as an explanation to ourselves, this was our Ending Theme, we eachother's Hungarian prince(ss), our Sziget Fest recreated in small in front of four chelloists and a drummer. Would that I could voice it better with my own words. Anyways, here goes... enjoy... or don't and as always, comments are welcome The me you've recovered, that fateful eve in november, surfacing later, a rainy eve, a confused day, right in the middle of beloved december. The end of the old, the start of the new. I met myself then. Wondered how much I knew. And you? Two mirrored souls we seemed, though that first night, much did not shine trough. -Over the sound of that quartet. Quintet, trio? About as close I can get.- But maybe a smile, or two. How different weeks later, when hand in hand we walked. Of the girl who did us cater, but to our past turned the talk. The connection then clear, I now state in a sneer, from my not quite omniscience, as I sit writing here. You woke that me up then, calming the me I'd grown into down. Then, I was happy, and I guess I am now. We lived trough the lyrics, our Ending Theme, fanning the flames under my dreams of belonging. But still my dear, to be honest, I feel, I just don't know. I have been growing, surpassing myself at times. Me growing stronger, while I fell behind. Is this all worth it? The dreams and the feelings? Unasked for empathy? You should know. You would no doubt answer "Yes". Though, we are at most mirrored, not equal by far, quite the opposites. Still we were attracted, quite true to the laws of physics you so vehemently hate. Now, I don't know where we are, don't know where I am, and don't know where I am. Will those childhood memories ever return? If so, you will have been the kindling, with your distance so stern. Around myself, I probably always will turn. Though the boundary between me seems dwindling, the conflicts cause boundless concern. Coming to terms with our past can be so unrelenting. EDIT: typos galore

DISCLAIMER: This turned out alot longer than it should have, which I hope is evident from the size of your scrollbar Please bear with me for a while longer though, I feel it's almost completed, so it's probably only going to take me a gazilion more entries or so........ no really!... oh nevermind Honestly, like I say in the end, tomorrow's (it's been "tomorrow" for a while now, but alright) entry should be the last for a whole lot of time to come. "In the now brightly sunlit courtyard of the Pennite Keep, stood a stone that strangely shone with a pulsing grayish radiance of light. The Pennites saw the problem, Evaded it like blight. They gathered 'round at distance, Pointing out the object of their fright. Now at that time exactly, just before half past ten, The stone started transforming. Some sort of pen? The pen started drawing, drawing in mid-air. Along came a dawning, on valleys so fair. But out came aflying A thing that sent out crying cries of suprise from the crowd, "It's a man!" "An elf!" "A wolf!" "a bear!" The pen drew a chair, which seated the thing, that now seemed to shrink into itself, like a terrorised hare Smaller and smaller until nothing was left. The pen seemed somewhat taller but left its drawings in death. The crowd walked up closer, step by careful step, up to the pen, the chair and the dawn, when they started feeling, that something was wrong. A cry could be heard, from on top of the chair. From the point where it vanished, into thin, and out of mid-air. The crowd repulsed, their reactions seemed opposed and revulked. But the cry turned to talking, Conversation with itself. I've now taken this report, off of its shelf. I've handed it to you, so you can read for yourself What we heard that day. \ My head is pounding, / Do you guys mind, \ I feel like I'm blind / how this is sounding? \ It must be terrible \ to listen to me now. / The drums overpowering, \ but no, something, somehow? \ The piano rising trough, \ ascending, quiet arpeggios, \ telling their scenarios, \ of things I did not knew. \ I listen to myself \ and wonder where I am, \ who that myself is, \ and where it all began. \ I listen to myself, / I AM you! \ This cannot be... / Why won't you see? \ This cannot be me...(and you) \ Why don't you stay out? \ And you? \ And you? \ I've never needed you before... / But you will need me now (and me, and me) \ But... But... How could you be? / You just opened the door, / but don't worry, / We'll be more... and more (and more, and more) \ Why won't you just leave? / Guys, can you believe? (no, no, no) / One, two, no threefold. (yes, yes, yes) / Yes, will we do as we're told, and leave him be? (no, no, no, no) / Well you have your answer there, tee hee. \ How can I get you out? / Only by eliminating our host. / Who for you is now a ghost / So why do you not see? / You're no match for me. X (and me, and me, and me, and me, and me?) = Ah, my girl, but do YOU not see, = I can just clear my memory = of thee. With that, followed a horrible cry the like of which I heard before, nor since. The day still has not come where I could rinse myself clean of what passed by The thing, now a man appeared anew. It (he?) stood up from his chair, He entwined his fingers, after a stroke trough his hair- long curling patterns, for his shoulders to bear- and a crack could be heard, as his fingers let go. The expression he wore, was too far from fair, when he noticed the attention he drew and this, my friends, is how his story here began. He made a quick bow, ascertained us of how much he wished his business here trough. Told us of how for every discomfort he'd rue. Now listen to my final words, as I recite his first: "Good.. morning I guess... Oooh look at the time, is it that late already? Oooh I realy should get moving fast, if I am to be done here anytime soon. I'm awfully sorry for any ill ease I caused" He said nervously, as he drew breath and paused. "I'll be quick to assure you, I'm completely lost. I dont think that miss from the tour sent us here. I just must have missed a "do not got here", or jumped an odd fence yet I meant it not as offense. I'll be as fast out as I can I won't be any... ooh... what do I hear hence?" He asked, as he reared his head, and lo', I thought my ear was misled Out of the window- of the recruiter's office, near- Hung a wyvern's head, asking a listening ear. It asked for help, a vicious sounding plee and offer a reward, or two, or three. The man fixed his eye, and shrunk again, into himself... along came the pen, and the dawn in the drawn sky. Along came the chair, swooping -rolling a few pebbles away- as it was drawn in last. Then now shall I recall, what from thenforth on passed?" "Ah, no father, you've told that story a countless times!" "Yeah let's hear another one! How about that time when you convinced that big old dragon to eat vegetarian food!" "Alright, alright" The father replied, His two sons bathing in flickering candlelight And so his story began, or so I have heard. For after I listened, I fled like a bird. This report of my story, then dozens, now scores of years passed -how things can be so clear, so far in the past- I listened to it as it was told. and later, if I may be so bold, I've never experienced, anything like that, or before, for that. With that, I shall retire to sleep. As these old stories, my memory do keep. I do hope to live to gain more memories. OOC: and with that intentionally horrible last line, and that horrible sense of unfinishedness I close up my write-up today. By the way, hereby a hopefully somewhat better poemy thing, as a make-up gift (or so I hope at least), in return for the horrid one yesterday The italised and such poem and the center was supposed to be the main point of this part of the story, it seems I once again ended up doing more than I planned, spinning a bit of complicated conversation and it probably won't work out very well everywhere. That's the thing with spontanity I guess... Not everything works as it should The next reason for an apology, perhaps? I'll just stop voicing my thoughts now and probably return in 10 or so hours to write the last of this interactive threepiece The rest of this self-proclaimed "great work" will not follow anytime within foreseeable time, so you can see it as a complete piece when I'm finished with the next bit. (with anything later or in the meantime added by you ofcourse being part... I didn't choose to involve you without reason ) Edit: horribe make-up error in the main poem and a typo in the end removed

bills

The one who is this is about might recognise it and care, for anyone else, it's probably not worth much and it's another of my weird rhymings. Anyhow, I needed it off my chest. Reading your words, Tears well up. seeing your face, Feeling your loss, your pain. the face I've never seen. Named after birds, Images flash, with so much more grace, visions with no name. both bird and grace never seen. Loved one, Loved one, and lost. Loved two, Loved two, and lost? I wonder who you really are, Are we really so much alike? My heart you do strike. you who seem so far.

shoes

The night was... intense to say the least. Winds had been ravaging the surounding countryside, catapulting whatever was in its way with debris of all sizes. Lightning streaking across the otherwise black sky had illuminated farmsteads and homes alike, where other means of lighting failed. At least you could see, once every few seconds. The accompanying thunder however, had prevented any means of communicating the joy at that, short of shouting into one's ear. The rains had seemed a constant torrent, no, a wall of water, and were collecting in ever-increasing puddles, the gardens of the Pennite Keep being no exception. Some would have said it was weather that could raise the dead, but if any dead had risen, they surely must have immediately drowned. This was a night that would be remembered for years to come, especially by one cunning individual. "Get your Almost Dragonic Brand™ bad weather merchandissse while it lasstss! You won't find any better umbrellas, earplugs, helmetsss and other protective clothing this sside of the black cloudsss above!" He had been shouting words like these ever since he was awakened by a particularly loud thunderclap that morning. His throat had gone a bit hoarse with the effort, but the coin jingling in his geldpouches had been well worth it. His wellknown grin (dis?)gracing his face, he stepped into his chambers, pushing the door shut against the drafts howling trough the halls. He threw a soaked cloak he'd pulled over his head somewhere in a corner, revealing a set of equally wet (thankfully, those didn't soak) scales underneath. Shaking what water he could off his body before moving anywhere, he tossed a few woodblocks and some kindling into the hearth, with a few struck matches. It was a matter of seconds before the whole fireplace burned brightly in the updraft from the chimney, and the room was filled with a warmth comfortable for such a cold-blooded creature. He walked up to a table littered with foiled and yet-to-be-tested schemes and a bermuda with a tail-sized hole in its rear end, moved some of the paperwork aside and emptied his geldpouches on it, coins filling the surface of the desk. Greedily, he began piling the coins into neat stacks, when his eye caught something that wasn't there before. A plain, flimsy looking wooden box lay on his table, about as big as a well-sized fist, with a note attached to it. "Not to be opened by any non-Almost Draconic", in an unfamiliar handwriting. "What'sss thiss now? And how did it get here? I ssshould notify the other eldersss to keep a better eye out on who walks into whossse quarterss, I sshould. But first, to open this suprissse" He thought to himself. Wyvern shrugged and turned the box in his claws, looking for an opening. Nothing. He shook the box a few times, hoping to hear what was inside. "More preciousss geld ringing maybe?" Again nothing. Frustrated, he tossed the box against the nearest wall. It landed on the floor with a unnaturally loud thud, with no damage to the box at all, but a small indentation had been made in the wall. Now angry, he took the box and tossed it into the hearth, with a few more woodblocks after it, and continued ordering his freshly earned geld, forgetting all about about the box. Eventually, with a satisfied heart and a coffer again safely locked in his secret hiding place, but a bit more filled up than before, he scribbled some numbers on a paper, at the bottom of an already very long list of numbers, neatly added up every 5 times. With this done, he fell asleep quite fast, despite the storm still raging outside. Dreams of piles and more piles of geld, and an Almost Dragonic Brand™ monopoly on the entire trading system occupying his mind. That morning, he woke up in the same state of euphoria as he had gone to sleep with. He looked out a window at a clear blue sky, and his mind filled with dread for a moment, but almost immediately went into its euphoric state as his gears were set in motion once again. "No more umbrella sales today... but an umbrella makes an exxxcelent sssunssscreen" He turned to walk out of his room to get something to eat when his eye caught something glistening in the fireplace. It was the box. Completely untarnished, other than it's outer wooden coating having burnt off, revealing a silvery shine underneath. Wyvern's tail coiled as he picked it up, stinger slamming against the floor. "What isss it with this thing?" He turned it around in his claws again, when he saw a hole had revealed itself from under the wood, exactly large enough to fit the claw of his thumb. The moment he stuck his thumb in, the box somehow folded open on itself, capturing his thumb as it moved. Wyvern now stood looking at his thumb, with a silvery ring -about the radius of a tennisball- right on the joint. His thoughts blurred in outrage as to who put him up with this, when suddenly bright red letters started to somehow write themselves on the fleshy part of his thumb. "Ah, Wyvern, dear Almost Draconian, a good morning to you. I guess, as the new applicant's custodian, I should talk you, as I am new. Thus hereby this message, which does little but presage. I intend a great work, and hope it'll grant me passage. When this work will be done? I do not know. Countless more risings of that beautiful sun, is the best guess I can make. For now though, I hope you take this in jest, as there is also a message, on the back of your chest. You can not read it there, but someone else can, be it woman, child, but no man. Get someone to speak it, and release you I shall, before this ring of silver will make your life a hell. Yours, Mardrax" OOC: First let me apologise for the horrid quality of that little poem This was originally intended as an "I'm working on something but do not know when it's finished, but by posting here, I'm at least binding myself to finishing it" post. It came out as slightly more, which suits me fine. View it as an apllication in itself, if you feel inclined to and if you deem it worthy. Otherwise, this will probably be sitting here for a long time as I try to complete whatever it is I will be making EDIT: why can't I edit the post's title and subject? the way it is now, it's crap... but I clicked too fast EDIT2: edited slightly in hopes of better clarity, make-up error corrected Mar

I think that exactly is the beauty in it fading boundaries between the methaphorical and physical manifestation of the same subject... For a few bits of criticism, I cannot help but find the second stanza a bit awkward. why? if only I knew long sentences are probably one cause, "Wyvern's" 10 car alarms probably are too. Solutions? There's a trickier one I think it wouldn't hurt to omit the "paper of the COKE"... you've already declared it being a coke bottle in line 1... doing it again is redundant... less if often more The car alarms... perhaps replacing the "10" with "several" would help? Or, if only for form, replacing it with "ten" might help as well. I personally find seeing digits in text disturbing most of the time, though on the other hand, the 20 bullets don't seem to bother me. even with that point of criticism, I love it the way it is

EDIT: fixed an awkward point

Some coincidence... here I was taking my post-too-little-sleep shower, pondering what Rev said in between the occasional yawn, and I came up with an answer that equalled a somewhat less verbose way of Psi's bit of advice... you guys make a good match That said, I beg to differ on the case Rev makes due to that exact same thing, the way I write (or read, which by themselves may be different alltogether) a poem may, and probably will vary alot from how someone else will read it, in intonation, rythm, meter, so what sounds forced to my ears may very well sound perfectly in place for someone else, be it exactly coinciding with the way they read it, or even just an oddly off-beat note As such, I can't help but agree to other people's interpretations of whatever I create... in fact, the most interesting aspect of creating anything in my book is how other people react to it, percieve it, and as such, I openly welcome anyone's insights. On the other hand, I don't quite agree with the case Psi makes either... I don't think suggestions in this form are there for the writer to choose to accept it or not, not in my case anyway. I post something to be read by all who would be inclined to do so, and I specifically ask for any comments, hence I should accept any comments, unbiased towards what they tell me. Wether or not I choose to act according to the comments however is an entirely different matter altogether, but with me, you can always count on what you say having an effect on me, be it in the spirit of your words, or exactly opposite... Reaction and counter-reaction... such nice aspects in the universe That bit of what is probably nitpicking over a choice of words aside, yes, I totally understand you when you talk about whatever it is you are guided into by my words, and even if I don't agree with the opinions they set in motion, I apreciate those opinions nonetheless, if only because they offer me an outside look at my work, and probably, at myself because of that. Finally (yes, I have a tendency of getting overly verbose too ), to answer two things at once, I don't think I'll ever become a member... having read the requirements you make of members, I don't think I COULD make good on those, because, with the way I'm writing as it is now, I can't write for a specific purpose, let alone in assignment. I can ofcourse, but it would be a whole different "me" writing. That different "me" is a side of me I would be very willing to develop, taking any advice or instruction you or anyone else can offer to heart. Yet that side of me I feel isn't by far up to scratch with the level you guys and girls (men and women? ) are trying to maintain here at The Pen. Both of which are issues I will very much have to come to terms with, though the one thing I'm not willing to do is force myself to come to terms with it if I don't have the absolute need to, and in fact, I'm not even sure I can, though ofcourse that doesn't, and will not stop me from trying. That's really just a verbose way of saying "I'd love to walk down any path you could suggest me, it's just that in my current writing habit, I don't think I can... that "me" anyway" I Should really shut up now Mar Oh and Psi... you can't get trough my mental barrier anyway

If I take up the reins you're handing me, and take a few steps back to analyze what I was writing there, I don't think those corrections, or rather, additions fit well into what I was doing (or trying to do) (or what I think I was trying to do 0_o) there. I think I was refering to what I was writing, in advance. Envision the writing on the paper, tears falling down, the hand inevitably coming in to wipe the paper dry, leaving ink or charcoal rubbed into smears. So if anything, it'd be tomorrow's paper. "All".... I don't like that word for some reason... reeks of aspiring omniscience to me for some reason 0_o Next to that relatively meaningless bit, I also think it'd disturb the rythm I've set there. (which, upon closer inspection appears true... 4 lines, 5 syllables each, if you count the comma-induced rest in the first as a syllable... broken only by the last line in the second stanza, which seems to serve as an interlude into the less rythmbound last stanza) The only real disagreements I have with myself in this poem are the (in my ears) kind of abrupt entry of the 3rd stanza, which doesn't smooth right in with the rest, and the "memories" line, where the "enclosed" seems to do about the same. Then again, it's the best word I can think of to go there, even now Also the "in" in the same line bugs me, not because of it's sound, but because of it's presence... kills the rythm Rev, a "thank you" for the explanation (and another to Mister Shapiro), it's not quite clear yet, how to apply it to a mute verbal medium, that is, but for a tool I don't use (consciously), it's something I can be pleased with And for the recognition. Psimon, thanks for at least trying, and for putting up with my stubbornness in advance