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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Who even recognizes that strange figure on the horizon?


Tralla

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So I've graduated. Whoopee. BSc and top of my class. I also have virtually no prospects in my field for the next 6 months or so. Not a surprise, given the trend with university education these days. BUT, after two months of complete and utter down time in which I do nothing more challenging than write the date in files at work, I have managed to muster enough mental creative muscle to drag my muse back by her hair. She came kicking, screaming, and cursing foully enough to make a carpenter-sailor-ex-wannabe-gangsta curl his toes, but she is at least putting in a grudging appearance.

 

For the first time in four years, there are stories mud-slogging around in my brain. Gods, I've missed it. I've missed you.

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"Trallaaaaa!" Wyvern races into the Cabaret Room and gives the veteran pennite an almost dragonic huggle. He clears his throat of a few ashes and takes a step back in the hopes of maintaining his machismo, flashing Tralla a toothy grin. "Muse or no muse, it's always great to see ya around these parts."

 

Wyvern glances in both directions, then pulls a blank sheet of paper from his Devil's Advocate folder and raises his snout to Tralla's ear.

 

"Psssssssst." Wyvern snickers and lets his tongue hang loose. "Speaking of mussses... while I'm sure the BSc helps in convincing your muse to cooperate, you might want to consider investing in one of these Almost Dragonic Brand Bottom-of-the-Class BSing Degrees™ to dupe her into getting a work out. Trussst me, these degrees are so potent that I even use their BSing abilities when thinking up ads for them!"

 

Wyvern flaps the blank sheet of paper in the air.

 

"80 geld, cheap. This one was only used once by a carpenter-sailor-ex-wannabe-gangsta."

 

;-)

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