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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Scream into the Wind


Degorram

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This site, in my view, has been far too quiet. So here's an excercise: write your screams. Every one should be different, whether angry, joyful, frightened, pained....whatever is you. Feel free to post more than once, depending on your mood at the time of writing. Let's get some noise on this site!

 

I stood on the edge of the precipice and felt the wind rip through my hair and clothes. It snatched my breath away and caused my eyes to water. My skin tingled and felt cold, though the wind itself was not. I raised my arms in a straight line cutting across me, as if the East and West were pulling at strings attached to my fingers. Fighting the selfish wind, I brought air back into my lungs and screamed, sending forth a howl that was both joyous and regretful, filled with the spark of life and the damp ring of death. It felt so wonderful just to exist, to feel the wind pressing under my outstretched arms, as if it would transform them into wings and take me far away. I longed for flight, for the endless noise of the wind across my ears, to shout so that every cloud whispered with its echos. I screamed until the wind brought my breath back out of my lungs with a forceful tug, leaving me gasping for air, a grin plastered across my air-beaten face. This was life.

Edited by Degorram
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The dark forest loomed eerily behind me, wreathed in great sashes of mist that rose from the steaming ground. Before me the sun was setting in a huge conglomeration of fire and ash, painting its colors of farewell across the sky. Above, the moon glimmered hastily as night greedily vied for space in the heavens. In a flash of final flame, the sun disappeared and darkness settled over the land. Off the cliffs upon which I stood, the ocean thundered and crashed in the sudden silence that heralded the clamor of night. I opened my eyes and let the tiny light of the stars glimmer and reflect in my gaze, turning them into tiny pools of gold. I felt a wind pick up, hesitant at first, mirroring my tentative reach. I pressed my toes to the very edge, curling them bare over the stones, and threw back my head. A howl of wind surged up my body, blowing my hair up into the air like a great dark blossom. It thrashed and curled and twisted about me, forming a wild, invisible barrier against the world. I let it lift my arms and I stood on tip-toe over the precipice, my arms flung above me. A high, piercing noise erupted from my throat, not quite like a song, and not quite like a cry. It swelled and burst forth into a scream that sang high above the trees. Leaves flew down into the ocean as my scream startled the bushes, and from its neslted place, a black fox raised its head wearily and looked at the dark figure on the world's pinnacle. My scream dwindled and I settled, the wind stirring beneath my feet, tamed. For the rest of the night I stood at the ocean's edge, my eyes golden pools of star.

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Wyvern scrambles his way into the Pen's new screaming arena with a tape recorder clutched in one claw and a long cord held in the other. The overgrown lizard immediately hits the "Play" button on the recorder, not wanting to miss the opportunity to turn the variety of pennite screams into the latest death metal sensation. He cringes and grins at Degorram and Kikuyu's ocean and forest screams respectively, then begins pulling on his cord until a stand similar to that of a street musician organ grinder is rolled into the room. Wyvern cackles and pats the back of the stand, then clears his throat and rubs a claw on his chest.

 

"Allow me to presssent my latest invention: the Almost Dragonic Brand Organ Whine-der™." The reptilian Elder grins a grin of razor sharp teeth and raises a claw to a bar on the side of the grinder, clutching it with glee. "Thisss lil' baby is made with the sound circuits of, well, lil' babies. Lil' baby toys that is. Y'know, those ones like Mindy Diaperdump that actually have a wailing cry sound installed in them for realism or whatever? Well, imagine over a thousand of those sound chips in a sssingle potent screaming machine. Obssserve."

 

Wyvern pushes down on the bar of the grinder and then pulls up, rotating it in a circular motion. The mechanized baby screaming sounds start immediately, the thousands of cries amplified by high-volume speakers on both sides of the machine. A mechanical monkey with a baby doll head jerks its way onto the stand's platform and lets out an extra-piercing shriek, its sound leaning more towards that of a monkey than that of a baby.

 

"Now as you can see, I can let go of this handle to ssstop the screaming at any point." Wyvern lets go of the side-bar, only to frown as he watches it continue to move in circular motions. The mechanical baby screams also continue. "Hrrmm. No worriesss, I'll just stop the handle manually."

 

Wyvern reaches out to grip the handle but accidentally pushes it down, causing it to spin even faster and making the thousands of baby screams even louder. He grits his teeth as he attempts to grab it again, but backs off as the bar starts spinning at a dangerous speed. Wyvern pulls at his scales as the cries grow louder and louder, not even noticing the angered mob of pennites as they storm into the chamber. He reaches for a megaphone attached to the bottom of the screaming stand and lifts it to his snout with a frantic cry, his beady eyes bugging out of their sockets from the noise.

 

"HALLLLPPPPP!!!"

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Wyvern's megaphied cries of fear reached Degorram's ears past her own screaming and she turned, staring past the illusion she had cast about herself into the room that her physical body dwelled. A monstrous machine creating monstrous noises was vibrating and causing general rucous near the door, and a frantic Wyvern was hopping about it, entreating the rather ticked off Pennites around him, their screams interrupted.

 

The shape shifter slipped past the illusion as if it were a curtain of water and materialized into the room again, wincing as her ears were assaulted by the actualy volume of the machine. She rushed over to Wyvern's side and grit her teeth as the noise grew louder the close she became.

 

"What is this thing??" she screamed over the wails.

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Venefyxatu regained his self-control after raising his hands mere centimeters. Instead of striking his desk in irritation, he merely sighed - a sigh that was loaded with all the irritation of hours of research going poorly. As if that wasn't enough, there was also the sound of a whole lot of crying babies drifting in through his window. After closing his eyes for a few moments to compose himself, he got up, grabbed his staff and opened a portal to a world he'd discovered on one of his travels. As soon as he stepped through, he let the portal vanish, wanting to be completely alone.

 

The world was a deserted planet, its inhabitants aeons dead after some huge war. Their combined deaths and tortured souls had made the Nether energies particularly strong here; it was the perfect place for a Necromancer to get rid of some frustrations.

 

Calmly putting his staff in front of him, he let go of it. It stayed hovering upright, swaying slightly as the Nether energies tried to assault it and its Verdant/Nether wards protected it. The archmage held his arms next to him, slightly away from his body, and felt the energies swirling around him, running through his fingers as though they were water. He could feel their particular taint and knew they would start burning as soon as he opened up to them.

 

Slowly he did. He opened his mind to the energies of death and felt them trying to drag him away, trying to destroy everything he was and feed on his soul. This was the struggle he was familiar with, only with an intensity that not many other places could match. As he opened himself up further and took in more of the energies, the wailing cries of the spirits that the energies consisted of became more audible. Louder and louder they became, until it seemed as though he was at the very center of Hell itself, surrounded by millions of tortured souls.

 

He was unaware of the fact that he was raising his hands and that any onlooker would have been able to actually see the energies flowing through him. He was also unaware of the fact that he was subconsciously redirecting the screams of the spirits to where the crying of the babies had come from - the Assembly Room of the Pen.

 

Suddenly he clenched his hands into fists, simultaneously closing his mind again. If anything had been left standing in his surroundings, it would've been leveled right then as the Nether energies were hurled away from him in all directions. The silent explosion also cut short the wailing spirits, immediately halving the noise levels in the Assembly Room as Venefyxatu staggered forward, grabbing his staff for support. He summoned the strength to open another portal back and collapsed on his bed, exhausted but with his mind cleared.

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Perhaps Degorram was wrong when she had believed that the screams could get any worse in the Assembly Room.

 

No, perhaps wasn't the word. Definitely.

 

The frightening wails of the dead assaulted her ears for a timy before they cut off suddenly, leaving a ringing, and slightly quieter squalling, in her ears. This had gone too far.

 

She heaved in a breath of her own, her chest filling with air and irritation, and with a heavy shout she sent a blast of her own magic towards the wailing mechanism that Wyvern had wrought. It shuddered and a heavy clicking noise began in its core as sparks flew from the faltering gears and hammers. And suddenly, with the silver magic swirling like fire, the machine flew apart, a tiny, pitiful whining all that remained.

 

Degorram screamed her triumph and anger at the former machine, a laugh choking and shaking it.

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"Yog smash wittle Elfie!"

 

The tall slender gentleman, looking rather less perturbed than he should, merely sighed and brushed back his long dark hair with one hand.

 

"Dear sir, "He said, and let the air settle about him with an exaggerated pause. "Don't you know it is entirely improper to refer to yourself in the thid person? Besides, I'm not little at all. Why for an elf..."

 

His diatribe was cut short by the sound of cracking limbs and a pastel of autumn leaves falling about him as the most enormous and unsightly club he had ever seen came crashing down towards his head. If, in fact, he had been paying attention to what was transpiring instead of correcting a very perturbed Troll he might, in fact, still be alive today. But instead, he was too busy formulating his next words in the most elfishly calculated manner. In short, the last thing to pass through his brain was not a thought at all, but a blood-stained mithril spike perched atop the aforementioned enormous and unsightly club.

 

He did manage to utter, "Oh no, not again." It is widely thought that if we knew why he uttered, "Oh no, not again," then we might know much more about Middle Earth than we otherwise do.

 

note: Any symblance to a writing style, though still english, but from a vastly different style of book is not purely coincidental and should be taken with as many, or as few, grains of salt as any particular reader needs to. Thank you. And if you do happen to encounter a huge black troll in the forests of Middle Earth and this troll in particular happens to wielding an enormous and unsightly club with a bloody mithril spike perched just so atop it...For sake of the Undying Lands, don't correct him!

Edited by Da_Yog
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I took the small stone and hurled with all my might off of the precipice. The Shining Trapezohedron would never hurt anyone again, for I knew that hurling it into the caldera would trap it's power forever. The eternal light of the molten rock would prevent any darkness from penetrating it's many faceted panels. I stood for a moment, my breath heavy and wet. Sweat poured off my mostly naked form. Then, I screamed. Like an injured animal. Tears, mucus and saliva fell from my face. I curled into a fetal position, face down in the dirt and screamed until I was horse. I cried for my love, for my world, but mostly for myself. The magma below roiled indifferently as I bared my soul to it.

Edited by Nyarlathotep
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OK, I was quite good at geometry but anything called a "trapezohedron" simply requires more description...

 

According to Wikipedia...

 

"The n-gonal trapezohedron, antidipyramid or deltohedron is the dual polyhedron of an n-gonal antiprism. Its 2n faces are congruent deltoids (or kites). The faces are symmetrically staggered.

 

The name trapezohedron is misleading as the faces are not trapezoids, but the alternative deltohedron is sometimes confused with the unrelated term deltahedron.

 

The n-gon part of the name does not reference the faces here but arrangement of vertices around an axis of symmetry. The dual n-gonal antiprism has two actual n-gon faces.

 

An n-gonal trapezohedron can be decomposed into two equal n-gonal pyramids and an n-gonal antiprism.

 

In texts describing the crystal habits of minerals, the word trapezohedron is often used to refer to the polyhedron properly known as a deltoidal icositetrahedron."

 

source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trapezohedron

 

The text did me little good. If you are curious go see the picture.

 

"Trap...Trapi...Yog smash wittle elfie dat try to confuse Yog!"

 

"He's dead Jim, you've killed him."

 

"Yog smash funny man in da blue shirt!"

 

"No! No! No! Set for kill!"

 

We now interrupt the interruption and return you to your regularly scheduled program.

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OK, I was quite good at geometry but anything called a "trapezohedron" simply requires more description...

 

According to Wikipedia...

 

"The n-gonal trapezohedron, antidipyramid or deltohedron is the dual polyhedron of an n-gonal antiprism. Its 2n faces are congruent deltoids (or kites). The faces are symmetrically staggered.

 

The name trapezohedron is misleading as the faces are not trapezoids, but the alternative deltohedron is sometimes confused with the unrelated term deltahedron.

 

The n-gon part of the name does not reference the faces here but arrangement of vertices around an axis of symmetry. The dual n-gonal antiprism has two actual n-gon faces.

 

An n-gonal trapezohedron can be decomposed into two equal n-gonal pyramids and an n-gonal antiprism.

 

In texts describing the crystal habits of minerals, the word trapezohedron is often used to refer to the polyhedron properly known as a deltoidal icositetrahedron."

 

source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trapezohedron

 

The text did me little good. If you are curious go see the picture.

 

"Trap...Trapi...Yog smash wittle elfie dat try to confuse Yog!"

 

"He's dead Jim, you've killed him."

 

"Yog smash funny man in da blue shirt!"

 

"No! No! No! Set for kill!"

 

We now interrupt the interruption and return you to your regularly scheduled program.

My intention was for it to be an H.P Lovecraft reference. The Shining Trapezohedron is an ancient artifact that appears in the short story "The Haunter in the Dark", where it plays a role in summoning the menacing avatar of the Outer God Nyarlathotep.

 

But thank you for looking that up, I wasnt aware of it's geometrical connotations.

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My intention was for it to be an H.P Lovecraft reference. The Shining Trapezohedron is an ancient artifact that appears in the short story "The Haunter in the Dark", where it plays a role in summoning the menacing avatar of the Outer God Nyarlathotep.

 

But thank you for looking that up, I wasnt aware of it's geometrical connotations.

Ahhh, interesting. I haven't read much Lovecraft. I'd be curious to know how he used it in context. Did he provide an accompanying description or was it left for the reader to figure out what it was?

Edited by Da_Yog
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Kikuyu stands on a wooden platform thirteen by thirteen feet raised five feet off of the ground and looks at her bare feet. Her hair hangs loosely around her face, and she is wearing an uncharacteristic bard blouse and skirt. The skirts edge has been cut off to free her ankles, and she wears black and white stockings beneath. A weaved cloth bodice gathers the excess material of the shirt to leave her torso free of motion. In her mind she runs over the happenings of the day and closes her eyes, a small smile on her lips. She recalls: the talk, the dance, the screams, the songs, the kiss...her mouth widens in a wry grin at that and she opens her blue-green-grey eyes, looking up at the trees that surround her. She is standing on a deserted faire ground, the floor heavily padded with sand and pine needles. The air is fresh with the scent of fallen rain and crushed cranberries from the harvest. Slowly she turns a small circle, the bells on her ankles chattering their musical sound. Her feet move fast, arched and sure, as she dances a small circle around herself, arms in the air. She looks at her feet, her secret smile hiding her feelings. A quick back turn over and she leaps into the air, her skirts flying, dancing quicker now. She imagines she is surrounded by eyes that would watch her, and she would dance for many of them. A wild yip that sounds much like a fox's cry bursts from her lips as she kicks one of her knives into the air. She catches it's flat side on her head and balances. With a final, sad yip she throws it into the air again and sheathes it. Dego is standing nearby, dressed in black and red, but also in a skirt and blouse and bodice. Teal is all around them, but they must leave. But here they are not Dego and Kiku. They are Fallen and Slack, and they may not stay.

 

Slowly they leave the forest and slip back into their other bodies, leaving the silent watches behind. The teal dissipates into the forest, to be hidden until their next dance.

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  • 4 weeks later...

Sora wandered out the door of her tower, pacing back and forth on empty space. It was night, and she couldn't sleep. She had just finished a short story, but her brain refused to wind down. She wandered back inside and started digging through her closet.

She emerged a few minutes later with a kimono that was pure white, a dark blue sash, and several bracelets. She put on the kimono, tied the sash around her waist, and slipped the bracelets on her wrists and ankles. She went back outside, and flew up above her tower.

After putting a barrier around the top of the tower, she started to dance. Spinning around, bending over, leaping, waving her arms above her head as she spun. A wind started rising around her with every movement of her hands, causing her bracelets to clink together with sounds akin to those of a small bell. She started singing as she danced, no words, only a tune.

As Sora danced and sang, the sun started to rise. Layers of dusty pink, almost-white yellow, light blue, and dark blue. The sun rose over the horizon, giving the Pen Keep a rosy color in the dawn's light. Layers of clouds were painted almost every imaginable color, red, orange, purple, blue. . .

Sora abruptly stopped, calming the winds around her with a movement of her hand. She was panting, but her mind was clear. She dissolved the barrier, and headed back inside. Now she would be able to sleep.

 

OOC: read the thread and wanted to add to it. not sure if it's really screaming, but I'd like to be able to do something like that in real life when I can't get to sleep :D

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  • 2 weeks later...

Ran stood on the edge of a cliff, pondering what to scream. Rock songs where the singers scream out the lyrics, rap, animal sounds. . .

the wind blew up into her face, carrying a huge wave from the ocean below her. Now dripping wet, Ran screams louder than she ever thought she could, "WRITER'S BLOCK FREAKIN' SUCKS!!!!!!!!!"

She then stalks off, her anger not abated.

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