cryptomancer

The Raven, muttering under has breath about the treacle in his feathers, the small glowing ring on his left claw, and the fortune telling abilities of the Master of Time, flys past the tent with the dunk tank. Moments later returning, flying awkardly as he manhandles the aviator glasses onto his beak, while holding a corn dog, and a can of coke.

He succeeds in his task as he nears the dunk tank, and things go wrong from there.

First, he realises that the treacle still on the aviaor glasses, is not transparent, infact obscures all vision. In his attempts to remove the treacle, while the glasses are still in place, he swerves into the tent containing the dunk tank, clipping the tent flap with his wing.

The impact starts him spiralling on a collision course with the target. Dropping the corndog in an attempt to correct his flight, he successfully stabilises himself, just in time, narrowly missing the target, and although still flying blind from the treacle on his shade, pulls himself into a smooth upward curve, gliding effortlessly over the platforms edge, swooping low enough to pick up the corndog, that he spotted though the side of the glasses, and directs his arial path towards the open tent flap.

Unfortunatlly, due to a misculculation in the "complex world of arial navigation while wearing treacle covered glasses and holding a can of coke and a corndog" his resulting path took him, not out of the tent but directly into a slightly dry Almost Dragon, who due to the distracting influence of geld did not see the action untill he was hit by a Raven, beak first. the resulting peck(totally unintentional) followed by a can of coke and corndog caused (the slightly dry) Wyvern to shift his weight(not that there is a lot of it) with just enough force and direction to override the platform's mechanism, causing (the slightly dry) Wyvern and a treacle stained Raven in aviator glasses to plunge once more into the tank.

A very crumpled and wet raven clawed his way to the edge of the tank and apologising for the inconvenience caused, dropped 5 geld into the jar as he hastily exited the tent, leaving (slightly less dry)Wyvern to return to his platform

The moon, half waxed hid amidst the shifting fabric of the misted clouds.

The night chill formed my breath upon its grasp.

I searched; looking to the shadowed traces of daylight’s hidden shades,

Looking for the form that in the dreams of my mind I long to embrace.

Living in my world, insubstantial as my dreams, yet

Real in the love we share and the touch of her hand upon my cheek.

I hold her and touch the softness of beauty,

Caress one who in her existence describes

The very truth, that beauty exists to be seen, held, touched.

Caressed in the mind of a dreamer, and loved

In the words of a poet, watching and loving the

Vision that inspires his tongue to dance with the joy of his gift.

The night, young as the touch of beauty under the caress

Of my fingertips, and the embrace of her arms.

Night, the safe haven of the dreams I dare to envision.

I long for the night, and the paths in the solitude of its embrace.

I seek the shadows and the shelter of the cool air in my lungs.

And in the caress of the night’s breath, and the soft falling of dew

I find her touch and hold her in my arms again

This I like, maybe because I see the eternal conflict with self, over actions and reactions, ending in the pain and frastration when things go down a path other than the one chosen. True the flow seemed to me on first reading to be the flow of a tantrum, but it was this flow that made me re-read it and look deeper at the imagery. The use of the same word, "hush," to start consecutive stanzas gives a calming rhythm to the frantic 'tantrum' of the first part, and the flow is brough to a point where in the last two stanzas the frustration, anger, and pain ebb away leaving the true cause visible, saddness and lonelyness, born of a painfull conflict, yet to be resolved fully.

Thank you.

The Raven flys into the booth, again, and not landing this time drops 10 geld into the jar.

The Raven lands on The Master of Time's head, and in true annoyed bird fashion, does a very good woodpecker impersonation on his forehead.

Then flying off in search of a Wyvern, pauses only to pick up his can of coke.

the raven flew away from the booth, directly over to the kissing booth.

In my mind I have a room, and it is there that I meet my muse, for she is a beauty so true, that never before have I seen her likeness, nor ever will I again.

Her eyes are the colour of the skies of my world, and her beauty touches, all of the things I see, with its light. In the solitude of my mind I can see the inspiration that her beauty brings to me, and causes me to write, in life, that which I see in the light shed by her.

In the cool grasp that the air of winter breathed upon the singing leaf, holding to its home with the failing grasp of an elderly man, the words of its whispered dance, and the laugh of its breaking stem, echoed the goodbyes of autum's months.

On the moving floor of the night's cold wing, a beetle flew, and upon its every wingbeat, and in the song of its flight, caressed the winter night as a lover that embraced it drawing breath from the kiss of midnight's dew soft lips.

*grins* Cool, you are making me think about my wording, thanks.

A Raven with an eyeball dipped in chocolate, and cranberry sauce, in its beak, and a can of coke in its claw, lands on the counter. Looks at the sign in the quizzical manner of birds everywhere, and watches the gameboy playing Master of Time.

After a short pause, drops 10 geld onto the table, and once again although a lot more quizzically this time, watches the gameboy playing Master of Time.

"Eyeballs?"

"What sort?"

"chocolate covered?"

"oh go on, lead the way."

The shadow disapates in a white hot ball of flame, a stightly scorched raven lands on the table of the kissing booth.

Clearing his throat, and standing to his full treacle covered height, he looks at Ayshela. "My apologies for the disruption my lady, my sincerest and most humble apologies, please forgive a bird his flamboyance."

With this he drops 5 treacle covered geld into the jar, and in the true manner of gentlebirds everywhere, (with sharp pointy beaks,) takes Ayshela's hand and bows his head to touch it.

With that he departs, a small ring on his left claw glowing softly.

Raven looks at the Death of Rats, "sorry, my bad."

"we get out now or wait till she calms down?"

"SQUEAK"

"now it is then, hold tight and prepare to run, i hold the Mynx back"

"SQUEAK"

Death of Rats moves over to give the Raven room. A shadow grows from the wings of the black bird, touching the sides and denting them before pushing the torn metal to the side. The shadow contiues to grow untill it stands 15 foot tall wings half spread and staring calmly at Mynx with glowing blue eyes.

"Dont mess with the Ego sweetness." a clear, deep voice says, "you should know better than that."

A treacle stained raven with a can of coke lands next to the Death of Rats, and looks quizzically at the grinning anthropomorphic personification.

"meet the mynx did you, nice girl, nice temper too, and very good with treacle."

The raven takes flight to find a safe pearch.

A raven flies in through the tent flaps, circles the tent eyeing the interesting collection of beings it contains, before landing on the counter next to the jar for payment.

Placing the can of coke and the half pecked corndog on the counter, and after fighting the treacle covered feathers for the right amount of coin, he drops it into the jar. Hopping over to a stack of balls, he lands atop two, grasping each in his claws, and picking up a third in his beak takes flight

Beginning to circle the tent, flying faster and faster, gathering all the momentum he can manage before swooping to the level of the target, changing course and ducking his head, does the closest thing a raven can do to a shoulder charge.

Wyvern watches, with an amused smirk as the raven hits the target dead centre and it doesnt move. The raven leaving a small trail of treacle on the target falls into the tank.

After a flurry of feathers water and treacle, the drenched raven claws itself onto the edge of the tank. "I should have said 'nevermind' " it mutters as it collected the remains of its snack and flies out of the tent dripping water and treacle on those in the opening.

The Raven presses his eye to the air hole in the box, watching the roof of the booth that houses his box. he hears the comotion at the kissing booth , and dicides to leave them to it. pecking a hole in the corner of the box, (enjoying the taste of treacle and cardboard) he slowly fades to a black shadow in the middle and drifts out of the opening he created. As small trail of black slithered to the edge of the booth and over the edge to the ground, a small note appears on the box....

In the beautiful crafted script of a raven tapdancing on a scree slope, it simply read, 'out to lunch'.

On the floor a puddle if shade dissapated. Moments later a Raven flies past with a corndog, and a can of coke. Disappearing towards the dunk tank.

Write, it is in the writting that we find the words, the character and the passion.

All you need is to start and it will flow from there, if you seem to get stuck on a point, dont worry, the setting of the thread and the writtings of those involved will guide you very well.

I am new to this too, storytelling and character forming is not a style I weild well, but once I started the flow comes, and as the story grows, so does my passion for the style, and I am having fun.

So, write, enjoy, and see where the path leads you.

The Raven sits in the black box.... seemingly quite at home with the surroundings.

After a brief attempt at cleaning, looks around his confinement and finds a half flat treacle covered corndog, and a can of coke, with a bent straw.

Sitting back in the sticky puddle of treacle forming in the bottom of the box, he relaxes and continues with his snack.

"corndogs are good, even with treacle" he announces to the shadows in the box,

and braces as the box is hit once more by a quietning backhand from Mynx.

A Raven flies past sipping a can of coke through a straw, with a corndog in the other claw.

and wearing shades.... (aviator ones reminicent of 'top gun')

My thanks to both Lady and Amost Dragon, i am pleased to know where i stand in the giant scheme of things.

my primary concerns and hesitation have been removed, and i will let the insanities of my avian mind run free.

again my thanks.

In a flurry of black feathers, and scratching of talons upon the booth, a rather flustered and crumpled looking raven comes to rest next to the jar on the counter top.

After a long pause, in which the bird surveys the gathered crowd, the rather interesting painting, and a pair of rather beautiful ladies, the Raven hops onto the top of the jar, clears his throat, and in a crisp and pure voice addresses the gathered crowd, and the group in the booth.....

"Nevermind" and flies away in a blur of black feathers.

Again i give my thanks for your kindness, and welcome.

It is wonderful to be noted by one so gracious.

My Lady,

I thank you for the notice you give to such a humble traveler upon the waves of this realm.

It is a new task that brings me to a unfamiliar and yet truely wonderous place.

Story telling is not a style that i am gifted in , yet we try to walk in the magic of words, and the tale tells our path, as our path tells our tale.

Happily would this humble traveler tell of his journey to those who wish to hear.

I have many names, although i acknowledge few, to my friends i am "The Raven."

To myself i am "the Cryptomancer." I have been called a "devil of the silver tongue" by those who hear my rambling thoughts.

Words weave the fabric of my life, and the gift i seem to have is in need of sharing.

My Lady, should you wish to know more, please but ask, and i shall reveal what i can.

again my thanks i give for the welcome we have been granted.