cryptomancer

Late start, I would write for both so far if I may... Frozen flames of liquid life, Dispersed breath of winter's fire, Born of Heaven's delicate knife, Crafted by nature's desire. Blade of lovers lament, Torturing the liquid stain, Blending Power and love, Bonding Emotion to page. Part of my being Tangent of my heart Twisting love's meaning Blade of the poet's art.

*hugs* You are in my prayers, Hope gains strength in the Lord's love.

*shoots the theological side of the brain* It is a very interesting set of lyrics. The picture itself is a fantastic depiction of its theology. How much the age of technology controls the spirituality of our world. Amidst the brutal wires and alloy limbs Tangled in the empty core, Tied with cables to the source Of a chrome and neon power. Amidst the blades of weaponcraft, On the fields of terror, Your home is the battleground My land a scarred waste. Amidst the glint of all that shines, In the light of the neon sky, Bathed in the blood of the unborn, Evolution takes no sides. Amidst the din of infestation, The crippling of the soul, Bound to machine in spiritless life, Sold for the metallic sheen. Amidst the silence of decay, the metal rusted through, Amidst the bones of dead and loss, In His Spirit life abounds.

I myself have wished for fame, yet never chosen to persue it. For me my legacy will be words, weather or not they are published, because it is in the words that I have written that people will still remember me, even as I fade to grey.

WOW... So cool.. congrats.. All the best for you all...

Drifting through the empty streets of the city, the ache of winter’s last gentle caress reddening the skin of my face, arms dimple in the bite of early morning wind, I see the traces of the night, spill around the bins and gutters. Crunching between the pavement and the soles of the impractical business shoes I wear, glass and gravel mix their tune to the traffic, cutting into the silence of my thoughts. Soft whispers of movement around me tell of the lost souls heading for their daytime habitations, offices and stores, the last refuge of the worker from the hunting chill of early spring. Sinking into the warm aroma of the café I find my solitude broken by the smile welcome, blinding me through my shades, Grinning I remove them and nod, “The usual is fine, thank you.” Tracing the soft lines of her cheek, my fingers draws the memories from her skin, each crease of her smile lights the soft burn of love in my wandering fingertips. The cool mist grey of her eyes washing my thoughts clear of all but the vision of her, softly playing, in the song of her beating heart, all that we share.

*the distant but unmistakible call of the Raven is heard welcoming Mynx back* hang over better?

*looks at mob* ok... sorry i havn't been here in a few days, but this time it wasn't me, retail is a fun job during Xmas. *slowly shifts away from mob* I try to post more... \

Tonight I lose my soul to the endlessness I strove too hard to find, and in the finding I lost All that I hold to my mortal heart. I seek the end of this insanity The dividing of my heart But still I move on My path crosses none Save the diminishing threads Of my backtracked wanderings Opening to the wastes of spiritual solitude. Love moves my feet The soul of burning upon my shattered corpse Remains still, for only in death can it depart, And I will not yet give death its will. I see the passage of footfalls, The well of despair The tears of anguish in the night Where the dreams of my longing Find hope, and with frail wings Carry my blackened heart Home.

Complete and comprehensive range of thoughts, All my mind knows, drawn out upon the slate of your beauty. I hold you in my arms as we kiss, and my heart floods With the stillness of Complete Love. Scorching caress of emotive flame, caressing my soul, Placing in my mind the complete knowledge of you. I see the threads of fabric that wrap your body, Know each curve that shapes the figure beneath. Drawn upon my being is the depth of your love, Your eyes are the heavens I seek, Your heart all I wish to find. I Love you. [line: Kiss of the cool winter wind]

*grins at Mynx* So that would be a case of "When in Rome, ...... Napalm them?" *offers large chemical knowledge and box of matches*

interesting questions. The cliff is a place I go to when I can. There is a certain link for me there. Things seem to call me back just to stand and look out at the ocean, remembering. My muse, she is with me always, she holds the deepest of my promises, and my love. Shattering the waves of wind driven sea upon the rocks of the ocean's edge, pin my soul to eternity, and my heart to the wings of night.

Spacing my hands to encompass The crisp softness of life, That beneath my gentle fingers slips, As I trace the beauty of you. Touch of searching patient love, That learns each subtle curve, and kink Taste of longing upon the kiss That lets me of your beauty drink. Where in the embrace Did I find your heart? Pure, subtle gift of love, Cherished as crystal and silver wrought, By hand of spirit’s fire spun. Gift given, never won.

The incomplete poem of fractured thought, I like, it is beautiful. the questions it asks are clear and call to be answered. For me, I write like this a lot, scribbling down the thoughts of my flooding mind before I drown in them.

Once again I sit and write under the blackness of a night sky, My thoughts and visions flow freely around the Muse that I love. I see her in my mind, clear as she once stood before me, Hearing in my conciousness the caress of her voice Whispering to me, words spoken by beauty, That light the void of darkness that hides me. Once I stood alone upon a sheltered cliff, I looked to the sea, seeing once again the majesty of nature, Humble before the power of the Creator's works. Now I stand, alone longing to let my eyes be caressed, Seeking the touch of beauty upon my soul once more. Knowing the flow of time, yet not the duration. Lost to my thoughts I write, my heart burning As the black flame of ink scorches the page. But burning in the love of all I have. Beauty holds my life, covers my soul from harm, Caresses my dreams, as sleep takes hold, And in the darkness of closed eyes and night, Beauty can still be seen, her hand still in mine, Our love complete, our dreams joined.

Imhotep Glances around the empty tomb, the fibre of his undead body strain with the fear of distruction. "It is strange how even after cheating death, an end is still offered by the gods, a new death to haunt us even after we survived the first." Looking at the Young Napheen he shakes his head, "many of us have lived long even before this suspended existance began, except you. Could the undecided life of youth be the cause of this evil, is it your hand that cuts us down now?" [OOC: Napheen]

"Evil can live in the souls of any being, even ones that live on beyond the time of their parting from the first world." Imhotep looks around the group, "We all still feel the strength of life within our decaying forms, our bodies may be shells of a former existance, but our souls are untouched, and still hold the desires of alll we strove for in life, even now, even in this existance." Shaking his head Imhotep moves away, "Evil follows us still. We must find it before it destroys us all."

The group see to each other's needs quickly, the magical and spiritual protections in place shield them as the assess the damage to their number. Most came through with the minor damage of the fight and the weary happyness of the victorious. Gryphon sees to the evacuation of those that need attention in a hurry, his strength proving itself once again as he offers aid in healing and transporting the injured back to safety. Tanny and Celes both are able to draw some strength from the new ley-line that Gryphon tapped into. Soon the group have themsleves moving in the direction of home. All the missing had been found, some of them finding others as the looked for the way home. Many with magical talent had homed in on the energy surge created by the battle, and like a becon the pure untained energy had drawn them together again. The party for Halloween still called, the final dances and drinks would feel well earned after the long night in the twisted energy of this place. The last of the number was being helped from the tunnel, its darkness a reminder of the evil nature of the place at its end. "So How do we seal it? Just in case?" Gryphon asked as the last of the group stood dusting themselves off. A piece of the darkness broke off, the small figure of Cryptomancer formed from it, and leaning heavy on a staff of blackened oak, he spoke, his voice harsh and weezing his breath catching on every word, "I know ways to mould stone and earth, working charms of binding into it as I do, I could seal the tunnel." Before comment can be made to the contary, the hunched figure of the Runemage melts to shadow again, a small dark patch in the tunnel fading from view. The others turn and watch the entrance before slowly moving back to the main halls and the rest in the company of friends. Gryphon stays a moment longer, placing a shield against all save his friend, before he too moves off, rejoining the group, and the last of the festivities. At the far end of the tunnel a shadowed figure stood waiting, it felt the magic cast at the other end of the tunnel, felt the ward being placed, the precautions of a friend. Cryptomancer held still to the least used of his forms, the only one that seemed to function unhindered in his weakened state. The shadow smiled, the twisted energy of this place seemed natural in some ways, and easy enough to use. Reaching for the darkness around him the shadow began to grow, wings spreading as it touched the mists that had begun to swirl around his figure. the walls of the room softly began to grow darker, the pealing paint and decayed wood blackening in the shadowing mist. Softly at first runes began to appear, each one alone, unattatched from the rest, yet each seemed joined by some means to the others, each danced with the same glowing light that flickered from the core of the others. In the dark mist of the shadowcasting, the Cryptomancer stood, his humman shape once more dominant, his face drawn and strained, the swirl of the mist held him on his feet, the black staff lay on the floor at his side. the eyes of his body glowed deep blue, the light radiating from them, reflecting in the circles beginning to form in the walls of the tunnel, each one enclosing a set of five runes. The red glow of Cryptomancer's sixth chakra shone from his forehead, the vivid shape of the spiritual eye following the shifting powers of the room. The room glows through the black mist, each thread of the circles and runes vividly lit upon the walls and floor, the roof full of interlocking patterns, each one joining, overlaying the others, layers and layers of intricate symbols. Smiling Cryptomancer holds his hand out, the staff raizing to meet it, he turns and begins the long walk back to the Manor, each step his form fades, the shadow again forming to aid him, his form shifting fully afer a few steps. In the entrance of the tunnel the ward opens to his presence, the shield allowing him to pass through unhindered. Behind him the doors between worlds and planes begin to close, each one timed to seal fully, unhindered by the others. The shadow turns to watch the closing of the gate. He smiled, the months of work had been a success, the doors again sealed completely, too many to open again with any ease, to many to be discovered. The wall reforms out of the darkness that fills the tunnel, runes of power glowing over its surface as the rock once more replaces mist and shade. Cryptomancer turns toward home, the bag of protection in whcih the book now resides safe under his cloak, protected by his incorporial form, he drifts toward the party, the only stop before entrusting the treasure to the Pen's library.

Absorbed in his work, neither the dancers nor the music they move to are noticed by Imhotep, his concentration focused on th scrolls of his life's work, his mind still seeking the answers that he sought in life, even now, even when his body was no more than an animated shell holding his conciousness in its undead existance. Scrolls litter the ground at his feet, his finger tracing the one unraveled on his knees as he sits and reads.

Sunlight warms my blackened heart, Memories of drifting tides depart, The soft caress of sand between toes That upon the sacred beach expose. I walk the waters edge again, Tide my steps wash clean of pain, My longing soul twists away, And walks onward into the day. Night time vision, the same scene, Beaches walked in lingering dream, My heart filled once agian with bliss, At the memory of our first true kiss. [Line:Bright upon my shadowed day]

The curse that cannot be dispelled, By mythical magics or weapons held, Save by pen in tight held fingers, Caressing lover of the notebook's pages. Blessed gift of the gods that be, Power to use the blade of ink, and see The skill to cleave the minds all, That by the spell are held enthrauled. Goddess of the written verse, Ink tinged skin of beauty's shell, Wonder of my Muse's eyes, That write colours in my sky. I hold the spirit of my dawn, Upon my outstreached trembling palm, And in the beauty of her love I see How powerful the words can be. Lament not the curse of fates, Regret not the bold cliches For in the words by poet spun, The world makes sense, (at least for some.) Sometimes posting poems can be like answering a question with another question. When at 3am you see the scribbling page's history and in the soft cursed whispers note the logic that through your mind like smoke sifts and twists its patterned path to reach the dawn the night outlast the lover asleep in the dreams of wakened bliss the last memories of the embrace drift upon the tide of sleep that stretches to outpace the running of your mind so free so strangly ecstatic in its leap of agile thought so swift as to the scribbles point accept as truth at least for the dreams of all the nights that awake you lay enthrauled by whispers of the troubled life that makes your maddness take to flight and in the words of poetic spell weave the love you love so well atuning you to the dreams of her that sleeps apart wrapped only in her blankets soft and not in the embrace of your arms as you know she ought truly then the poets lament you know for sorrow at loves apart can tear the fabric of the strongest heart and pull the woven words to your knees binding in the traces of ink the thoughs that you must release or fall to the maddness of your mind as it races its self in circles around the winding passage of life and time and dreams escape your thoughts drain for the words will not stop until you weave them again. One day our words will make sense, but for now they just need to be written.

In the library a small shadowed form drifts from shelf to shelf, searching for the souce of power that it can feel throbing in its bodyless mind. Scanning each alcove as it moves around, starting from the place the book was found, and searching in a grid, narrowing in on a set of shelves. Each drift bringing it closer to the book. finding the right shelf, the shadowed form stops, slowly begining to grow and change becoming the very hunched form of Cryptomancer. He draws a small bag from beneath his robe, holds it open and begins to chant, his voice a harsh, weak rasp, barely discernable as his own. runes begin to shimmer around the bag's fabric as his chant grows, the whole surface covered in interlocking circles filled with sets of five runes each. the patterning is so tight that the whole bags seems woven in silver threads. Cryptomancer stops his chant, his breath ragged and harsh, the bag remains suspended in the air in front of him as he releases it, a staff appearing in his hand as he does so, taking his weight. Slowly he extends a hand and with a deep weezing breath begins a new one, a small rune begins to glow on the shelf holding the book. the shelf lifts and begins to move, slowly shaping itself into a small pedestal, its sloping top holding the book, moving it slowly to the height of the hovering bag. As it reaches the height of the bag it begins to reshape again, the column of the pedestal tilting forward, holding the book steady at the height needed. Tendrils of wood from the base start to anchor it to avoid over balance of the whole thing, and the book is slowly moved to the bag allowing the top to dip, and slide the book neatly into its opening. As Cryptomancer draws a breath, the chant stops, the bag snaps shut, a silver binding fastening its opening, as Cryptomancer takes hold of the bag, the levitation spell drops. Slowly the hunched figure of the Runemage fades, retaking the form of the shadow, and slowly drifting to rejoin the others.

I would love to take care of the book, it still contains certain information that I wish to gain access to. *grins* Oh for the record, I can do combat magics, just i would be weak in my current state and not up for much as a human, so logic says to stay shadow and go hand to hand. Just realise that if I get involved in hand to hand i will need to get inside the shields and would be effectivly trapped there so it is not a prefered option. *looks around for book*

*sits with Gryphon in the void of the global timezones* "How far ahead are we? 12 hours? With daylight saving too?" "Ok," *hands Gryphon a 6pack of coke cans* "Drink while we wait?" *picks up a second 6pack for himself*

What do you call a donkey with one leg? A wonky donkey. What do you call a donkey with one leg and one eye? A winky wonky donkey. What do you call a donkey with one leg and one eye, making love? A bonky winky wonky donkey. What do you call a donkey with one leg and one eye, making love, and farting? A stinky bonky winky wonky donkey. What do you call a donkey with one leg and one eye, making love, and farting, wearing blue suede shoes? A honky tonky stinky bonky winky wonky donkey. What do you call a donkey with one leg and one eye, making love, and farting, wearing blue suede shoes, playing a piano? A plinky plonky honky tonky stinky bonky winky wonky donkey. What do you call a donkey with one leg and one eye, making love, and farting, wearing blue suede shoes, playing a piano, driving a bus? Talented.